MR POTTER, OF TEXAS; OR, THE OLD LAG.

Evening Star, Issue 7496, 14 April 1888, Page 2 (Supplement)

MR POTTER, OF TEXAS; OR, THE OLD LAG.

+. BOOK I. THE BOMBARDMENT OF ALEXANDRIA. CHAPTER I. THE DESERTED HOTEL. 11 Sir, I have something to tell you ! " "My heaven ! Is there a woman—an English woman in this accursed place tonight?" sjaculates the young man to whom she has spoken, turning with a start and looking at her in amazed horror, but still holding in his hand a revolver, the cartridges of which he has been carefully examining. *' I have come all the way from Europe to Hay to you something of great importance." " There is nothing of importance now but to save your life ! " "My life! I•■ our personal danger so imminent ?" " There is death to every European man or woman in this City to-night. And they deserted you ?" This last is said in surprised astonishment, for he has uoticed the unusual refinement and beauty of the woman speaking to him, the richness of her dress and jewels, though she is in the black of deep mourning, and the latent appearance of haughty command in her pose, notwithstanding there is in her manner and gaz3, as she addresses him, a curious apologetic hnmility, as if she were ashamed of an indefinite something. " They d:d not desert me!" "Then how in Heaven's name are you here ?" •• I Baw them going away. The British Consul insisted on my leaving also 5 but I refused. I said I must see you, I had come so far to do bo. They telegraphed from Cairo that you would surely be here this morning, and I waited, expecting you, till too late ; then I hurried to the shore and found all communication with the ships cut off. W hat was I, a woman, to do in this strange city, not speaking an Eastern language ? My dragoman brought me back again to the hotel, and then even he became frightened and left me. The sun went down, the gas burners would not light, and bo I cowered alone in this vast, deserted, tenantleso hotel, till I heard a step, and, following it, afraid to make a noise, but more afraid of missing help or aid, saw you light that candle, and, thank God ! looked upon an English face. I have seen your photograph. You are Charles Errol, of Melbourne, Australia." " Yes, and you are ?" " Lady Sarah Annerley !" "Lady Annerley? here—to night —in Egypt ?' mutters the young man, astounded; for the name she mentions is one that has often appeared as a leader of rank and fashion Id all the newspapers that chronicle the doings of the aristocracy. I " Yes," she replied, " Sarah, widow of Viscount Annerley, and daughter of the late Sir Jonas Stevens. I must speak with you for half an hour; I have come from Europe for that purpose !" I " Half an hour 1 If we stay here half an ; hour I shall be dead—and you ." He 1 gives a horrid gasp at the thought that comes into his mind, for the more he apfireciates the fresh exqukite patrician oveliness of the woman the more he is , amazed and dismayed at the frightful nature of the danger which he sees surrounding her. *' Don't you know," he continues rapidly, as if time were very precious, "that at this moment we are probably the only English man and woman alive in Alexandria tonight? That the instant the English admiral opens his guns upon the Egyptian batteries it will be the tignal for these Eastern fanatics, who think themselves blessed by Allah in the deaths of unbelievers, to kill with fantastic atrocities every European that ia not in safety on board the ships that fled from the harbor to-day ? : ' For the time that this man is speaking to this woman is 11 o'clock upon the night of the 10th of July, 1882, when every European inhabitant of Alexandria who could escape from that Egyptian city had fled for his life as best he might from Moslem revenge and hatred, deserting his home, occupation, and wordly goods. All these had taken refuge upon the ships which had sailed away, their decks black with fugitives, leaving the harbor deserted save by the British squadron and a few men-of-war ; for the English admiral had that day given notice to Arab! Pasha, who, half as rebel, half as patriot, controlled the Egyptian armies, that he would the next morning bombard the forts and batteries of Alexandria,

The place where this man and this woman are muttering to each other with pale lips is a deserted parlor upon the first floor of the abandoned Hotel de l'Europe ( the light by which they see each other that of a flickering candle, for the gaawotks of the town have been deserted and the city is in darkness. Around them, as if to emphasise their loneliness and desolation, are articles of dress and open trunks, and furniture littered with robes, brie a-brac, and even jewellery; showing the haste with which their European owners have fled for life and liberty from the Eastern political eirocco of destruction and death. " Why did you not go with the rest in the Bteamers ?" Errol continues hurriedly. " I have been here but three days. They Baid every Englishman must come down from Cairo to escape. I expected you each hour." " And I—that cursed dragoman !—why could he have kept me?—what object?" cries the young man, striking his forehead. " A week ago I sent him into Cairo from Memphis, and he said : ' Everything quiet,' eo took my time." " I thought you would surely be here this morning." "And so I would, but our train was stopped by the black troops that scoundrel Arabi has in reserve at Kafrel-Dawar. I had to tramp it in seventeen hot, dusty miles. I should never have found my way here but for little Oaman, who knows every by-path ia Egypt. How that puny Armenian beggar stuck to my long steps to-day is a mystery. However, I've hung on to these, and they may help us." With this young man resumes the inspection of his arms that Lady Annerley has interrupted, carefully testing the lock of a Remington sporting rifle that is covered with the dust of his long tramp. " But I must tell you," says the woman, laying her hand'upon his arm with a curious pathetic intensity, " I must tell you !" and would go on, but he interrupts her by: " My Remington seems to be dirty, give me a piece of rag! Your handkerchief, anything—tear a piece from that silk skirt; the owner'll never miss it!" And Lady Annerley obeying him, he continues : " Hold the candle up, please, so I can get a better look at the lock ; this thing may save you as well as me." As she does so she begins again: "This information I.c"ame from Europe to tell you concerns'your 1 father-^—" But the click of the breech-loader interrupts her,' as thb young man tests it, and he remarks: "My father can wait, his life's not in danger; yours is—" and then very suddenly, " Blow out that candle !" "Why?" '. She gets no .'answer to this, and gives a ttle sunpressed shriek, for Errol has blown out himself?' ,r Why* did' you do that?" she asks, For* answer the young man points out of one'df th'e'.wiiidows. Lady Annerley has been* so engrossed with what she has to telftriat'srie has not heard the peculiar cries of a Moslem populace, the clank of arms, andtße Uramjf» of marching men that comes a at the window, growing louder and otider' each second. She goes cautiously to' the opening, and looking out sees the street' Mohammed Ali, that grand artery of Alexandria, full of. commotion, noise, and action; A-regiment of Soudanese Arabs, followed by one of the black troops of Arabi Pasha, "are tramping down the avenue to reinforce the. batteries and forts of Ras-el-Tini The blackness of the Egyptian night crushes the town with darkness comrrtli.tbe leading files of each company to arry torohes,the flames from which illumiafca and light up in vivid but ghastly fflgntness the Bwarthy faces, Eastern

features, and flashing eyes of these barbarians, making them look more like devils than men; and as they pass with slashing gait and hideous cries and Ethiopian jabber, the light of battle in their eyes, and lust of blood in their hearts, this delicate English lady, who has never in her gentle life seen even a blow in anger, shudders as she looks on them and mutters "Heaven help me !" and, for the first time, her peril comes home to her. Errol, who has stolen to her side, whispers: "A light would attract their attention—now they think the Frankish hotel deserted. Better darkness than those devils ! " and draws her from the window. He can feel her shiver, and asks with some concern : " You have not caught the fever ?" "No, I think not." " But you shivered you are not so ! frightened as all that ?" "No." " You can't be co'd this burning night?" But she, sinking into a chair, does not answer him; for it is the first time Lady Annerley has felt the touch of Charley Errol's hand, and it has given her a sensation that is neither fear, nor cold, nor even that of an Egyptian fever; but something she cannot describe, nor define, nor liken to anything else she had ever experienced before; for Lady Annerley, though a widow, has never as yet loved any man. While she is silent, the young man is thinking how to save her. Before she came to him he had intended, aided by the darkness, to make his way by stealth if possible, or fighting if necessary, to the shore ; then, if unable to find a boat, to swim off to one of the English gunboats in the harbor; for when a boy, living in semi-tropical Australia, he had become swimmer enough to make such an attempt not only a feasible but an easy performance. Now he is conscious that any such plan is only practicab'e by abandoning a woman who can at this moment look for her protection to no other aid than his. To desert her never even enters his honest, brave Anglo-Saxon head ; therefore he is racking his brain for some other Bcheme that promises safety to her as well as to him. " Of what are you thinking ?" says Lady Annerley, breaking the silence that has become all the more noticeable, the noise of the passing troops and accompanying rabble having died away in the distance. He is too generous to tell her how she has affected his chance of safety, and replies simply : "Of a way to give us both a chance of life!" The next instant he whispers " Hush !" Then she hears the click of his revolver as he cocks it, and a coming feline foot3tep in the gloom. " Halt, or I fire ! " says the Englishman. "It is only I, sahib. Is the Frankish gentleman frightened?" murmu's a soft, musical, Eastern voice with a slight American accent. " Oh, it's you, Osman ! What made you so long ? Have you found anything downstairs to eat ?" "None, sahib; the Frankish proprietor ■ has locked up his cellars and kitchens, and [ run away to the ships ; but there is a cafe a few hundred yardi away, kept by a Levantine who loves his property too well to desert it by anything but death—we might find something there ! " I " All right, we must get there somehow. ' I haven't had a bit since I left Cairo last ' night." I " I have a bottle of wine and some crackers in my room; the proprietor sent them to me before he left," suddenly says Lady Annerley. ! "By George, that's awfully jolly ! " exclaims Errol. " With a little wine—l don't care of wiut brand or vintage—and a bite of anything, I'm a new man." Then he suddenly pauses and says : " Forgive the selfishnsss of hunger, but you must need the things yourself, Lady Annerley." " Not at all," she replies. " Martin and I ate all we wanted two hours ago !" " Martin ?" " Yes—my maid. She remained with me, but is now cowering in my room. The lonely darkness has frightened her. I don't need anything so much as your strength and protection, Mr Errol. I'll get the wine and eatables in a second—my room is only two doors away," and before he can stop her, Lady Annerley hurries off,leaving Errol and his Armenian dragoman together. " The sahib has a lady in his care ?" " Two apparently!" " That is bad; to-night ia a very bad time to be troubled with women." "Nevertheless I shall not desert them. Osman, for two months I have had you for my dragoman knocking about Egypt; your ingenuity has got ine out of a good many difficulties. Help me to get these women on a ship to-n?ght, and I'll make it the bestpaid job you ever had." "Impossible, sahib! The boats in the harbor are all guarded by order of Arabi Pasha. All the Franks have gone away on the ships dreading the vengeance of our populace. A good many Egyptians have fled from their Homes fearing the cannons of tho English. To-morrow will be a great day in Alexandria !" This last is said with a cat-like glitter and sparkle in his rest'ess Eastern eyes; but the room is dark, and Errol does not notice it, as these remarks of Osman have given him an idea that may lead to safety. 1 " A grand day in Alexandria !" repeats the dragoman, as if in meditation, for there is no greater scoundrel in this world nor the , next than this same Osman Ali, half Arab, half Armenian, and whole rogue, called ky his tribe Backsheesh Osman, Aiiglice j " Begging Osman," and he had some rather curious ideas as to what his occupation will i be upon the morrow in Alexandria. I The next instant Errol interrupts his I meditation, saying : " You tell me a number ' of Mahmedar.s have left their homes for fear of the English guns ?" " Yes, sahib !" returns Osman, who in his various wanderings has been in India, and addresses his employer in Indian fashion. "They will not return to their houses till after the fight is over; they are in the country hiding." "Can you not get one of these deserted Moslem houses for mo and these women ? In the home of a believer the rabble would never seek for European refugees." "Ah, yes, they would not search for you there unless someone told them ! What a mind the sahib has ! But to find a deserted Moorish house this dark night—it will be very difficult and expensive." " You know every nook and everything else about Alexandria, Osman. Get me the home of a follower of Allah. We'll risk the English guns, but not Arab massacre. Set about it at once ! " " The night is dark. It is dangerous to tread the streets." "Do it! " " Yeß, sahib, to-morrow morning." " Now ! At once !" " It will be bo expensive ! " " Curse the expense ! Don't you see these ladies' safety depends upon it ? Do as I tell you !'' and Errol's voice has a ring in it that Btops any reply from Osman Ali, whose white teeth as he smiles glitter in the darkness. " Can't you light the candle, Mr Errol ? Those awful soldiers must be far away, and I cannot see to come to you with the refreshments," floats to them from the door in Lady Annerlcy's musical voice. Osman goes quickly to the windows, pulls their draperies over them, and says :—" The light will not betray us now"; then, as Errol strikes a match, and the candle illuminates the room, gives a little start and suppressed cry as Lady Annerley comes out of the darkne3s; for this delicate, fragile Moslem imp is very susceptible to female loveliness, and for half a moment imagines that he sees a genuine houri stolen from Paradise. For, though English, Sarah Annerley tonight is an Eastern picture. The heat of Egypt in mid-summer compels a tropical lightness of costume, and her dress, though black, is fragile in texture, and sweeps and clings to her perfect figure, outlining and developing each charm of movement or pose. In it she looks like a statue of jet, save where the transparent tissue of her gown makes it ivory by revealing the whiteness of her gleaming arras and graceful neck, which supports a face of delicate, refined, aristocratic, womanly beauty ; its haughtiness relieved by a trace of passion; its passion redeemed by a brow of Intellect. All this is made charming, radiant, and vivid by a pair of grand dark eyes, through which the soul says two things : " I shall love but once, for I shall Jove lor ever,"

Her gaze is fixed on Errol, and her beauty | seems to come more strongly home to him -than in the few excited minutes in which he had seen her before. Both the Englishman and the Armenian gaze in silence at Lady Annerley as she comes towards them, followed by her maid, a Scotch girl, who crouches along in a distracted sort of way bearing a bottle of Rhine wine and a can of English biscuits. " Martin," says her mistress suddenly, as the girl with a slight shriek stumbles over some of the robes that litter the room, "there is no danger. These gentlemen are here to take care of us. Pass them the wine !" but the next instant, apparently changing her mind, she assists Errol herself, leaving her maid to do a like office for Mr Osman, who smacks his thia lips over the drnk forbidden by Allah, and munches Frankish crackers with a very good appetite, for he as well as his mastar has had nothing to eat since the evening before when they left Cairo. This is perfectly apparent in Errol's case, as that stalwart young Englishman finishes up the biscuits and pouis the last drop of wine down his throat in less than five minutes after he gets his hands on them. Lady Annerley stands silently looking at him as he sits lolling back over a sofa, his rifle lying across his knees. His lpgs and feet in their stout walking-boots and knickerbockers are thrown lazily over a silken gown that an Italian lady had tossed aside as she fled for safety the evening before. His long, athletic arms in shirt-sleeves rolled up above the elbows, display his big, white muscles, as he eats and drinks in a manner that shows that it is only starvation makes him forget the great fatigue and exertions of the day. He has thrown aside his coat, the night being hot; and apparently eats and thinks at the same time. The instant he has finished the first, he says quickly : " Osman, go out and get two donkeys for Lady Annerley and her maid to ride. We must leave this hotel at once." " Donkeys will cost a great deal of money to-night," returns the dragoman. " All right! Buy the cursed donkeys ! Here's 50Jfr," and the young man crosses to his coat that lies over one of the chairs in the room, looks in one of its pockets, starts as if astonished ; then hurriedly rummages in every one of them, apparently startled, and after a quick search of his trousers and vest, and in a hurried look about the floor, says in a broken, horrified voice: "My pocket-book's stolen ! My God, to be alone in this city to-night without money !" "I have plenty of that," cries Lady Annerley. " I've a thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, and a few thousand francs in French gold and Egyptian silver in my room, besides my diamonds," and she points to her ears where a couple of brilliants of large sizs and first water sparkle, and give out fire even in the dim light of the flickering candle. At the mention of this considerable sum of money a grim smile crosses Osman's features, but he says nothing, only gazes upon the diamonds intently. The English lady has turned to go to her room, but the Australian gentleman stops her, faying hurriedly and somewhat doggedly: " I would rather not borrow your money." "But you must. You can't get it from anyone else. The consuls have gone. The banks arc closed and their treasure taken away on board ship, Mine was the last cheque paid by the Anglo-Egyptian Bank before it closed its doors. Besides, this money is partly for my use; the donkeys were intended for my service." "Still I'd rather not." "But you shall," says Lady Annerley. " I demand it. Take it to save us both !" This discussion is interrupted by Osman, who comes to the side of Errol and suggests: " Why not use your first plan ? Make your way to the harbor and swim to tha English warships " " And leave these ladies ?" " These ladies shall be my care. I can hide them better without you than with you. They shall be safe. I, Osman Ali, swear it by the beard of Mahomet! " " Impossible ! I were not a man if I deserted women to-night." " You had a way to save yourself and gave it up for me, a stranger to you ? Mr Erroll, make use of it at once ! lam not afraid. I can take care of myself; this man has sworn to save " She doesn't finish the sentence, for as she turns to look at the man in whose honor she about to trust, ho cannot for an instant control his features, and a gn'n of such fantastic joy flits across his Oriental. face that the words die out on Lady Annerley's lips, a sickly terror giving place to any faith in the promises of Osman Ali. This is emphasised by her maid, who gasp 3: "Oh, my lady, don't let him leave us alone with the heathen." "Wc are wasting very precious time. Under no circumstances could I leave English women alone to-night; not if I knew my life depended on it;" and Errol, as he says this, tosses back from his forehead the yellow Saxon locks that make his blue eyes seem so handsome to Sarah Annerley. Then he goes on sternly: "This discussion must stop at once ! To end it I will borrow your money, and if anything happens to me, my father, who is one of the richest men in Australia, will repay you !" " Your father is rich—and happy ?" gasps Lady Annerley. " Certainly—both. He's one of the jolliest chaps in the world. Why not ?" "I—l (lid not know—l never saw him. I will get you the money, and am but too glad that it may be of use to—to us !" With this Lady Sarah leaves the room in a dazed sort of manner, as if she almost doubted Charley Errol's word. ( To be continued.)