"THE RIDDLE OF SIWA."

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 20130, 15 December 1928, Page 20 (Supplement)

"THE RIDDLE OF SIWA."

'■ 3 BY DIXON KAYE.

i ■ SYNOPSIS. Eva Manders. the daughter of Sir Bertram Manders, a high official in Cairo, finds that »h 6 i 4 followed whenever sbo appears in the streets. Greatly concorned, sho seeks the assistance of her fiance, Seymour Barham, a plever young engineer, who exacts a_ promise 'of help from a sheik friend, Ibrahim. Later, in a remote village in the desert, Barham meets Agib Ben Hassan, a wizened old man said to be over one hundred years of, age. The old man _ tells him of the mysterious pyramid of Siwa " where thoße within are not dead but have lived for thousands of years 1" i > The story aroUses Barham's interest, and. unknown to Eva, he visits the pyramid with his friend Ibrahim and a few followers. Barham enters the pyramid, but tho sheik, " sensing evil," decides to camp a short distance away. He says be will wait two days for Barham's 1 return. Within tho pyramid, Barham is set upon ■nd taken before a mysterious Egyptian, Abdullah Bey. who sentences him to death. • Barham is apparently unmoved, and Bey realises that such a man is more useful alive' than dead. Consequently, a pact is made whereby Bargain's life is saved if he obtains tho release of one of their number who is in prison in England awaiting- bis trial for murder. Barham is escorted to the railway by Osman, a friendly Egyptian at tho pyramid.

CHAPTER X.—(Continued.)

The camels and their attendants were waiting for them, and' Seymour and the man whom be was beginning to regard as a. friend went toward them. Camel-riding is not suited to a maintained conversation. As the sun rose, the beauties of tho desert disclosed thornpelves. Osman pointed to a recently evacuated camp, and turned to Seymour. " Your friend, Ibrahim, has gone." he said, with a wave of his hand. Tt- seemed strango to Seymour that Osman' should know Ibrahim, but he f>aid nothing. His quick eye had, however, noted something; in a clear space by the encampment a stick had been thrust into tho ground, and a letter was stuck in tho cleft Of it.

In a moment Seymour was off his camel and- went toward it. He noticed as ho passed that the camp firo was stdl smouldering Ibrahim could not hava left •' ' very long. As ho expected, tho letter was addressed to him. " Your friend, Ibrahim, has a curious way of posting his letters," Osman commented. "I hope you will enjoy the contents." ■Evidently, Seymour surmised, that Osman knew them. ■ ;The Englishman toro open the letter, ' which was contained in an ordinary envelope, sealed, and read it. >'-1 have waited nearly three days for vou," it began, " and now I lose all I hope that you are alive. If, however, you have escaped with your life, communicate with me so soon as you can, if that be possible; you know where to find me. I* grieve for the beautiful lady to whom you are engaged, but unles I have certain news of your death, I will not communicate with her. ":If I have .no such news within a month, I will tell her the bare circumstances of the case, and leave her to judge. ":My sympathy for this youu,? lady is great; the more so as she never knew the mission you had undertaken, and which to those who know, meant certain death.. ''-Adieu, my friend; may -we meet again, either here, or in Paradise. »-C.. "Ibrahim." £ "Do you like it?" queried Osman, "'especially that part which concerns his great sympathy for the young lady you wish to marry?" ; Then, in a moment, it flashed across ' . Seymour's brain that Ibrahim loved Eva tbi)/ and might. in, his absence and . presumed death, become a suitor for her hand. •'lf, for nothing else, his great wealth might recommend him to Eva's father, ■who was himself notoriously '"mpfceunious. Tho thought maddened Seymour. Here was. he going far away from tho girl ho loved and leaving the field clear for a rjvsil. Then ho thought of the wonderful power displayed before by Osman with j-egard to Eva. He moved his camel beside him . . " Tell mc," he said, " I lielieve that in your heart you are a friend to me, what the girl I love is doing now." ! Again there came that smile half satirical, half compassionate, on Osman's face. -He answered: at once and apparently without effort. "Miss Manders," he said, "is as might bo expected at this hour, awakening from , sleep." " And her thoughts?" asked Seymour. " You told.me what she was thinking of some days ago, and I believe what you said was true. What i 3 Eva thinking about at the present moment?" ; " Of you,-' was the prompt reply. " Her , thoughts aro always of you, both night and. morning." f " And of no other?" urged Seymour, giving way to tho jealousy aroused by Ibrahim's letter. : OSman paused a little -before he answered him; then lie spoke very slowly and almost deprecatinglv. /"Her mind is shadowed sometimes, by the..thought of the man who*followed her iri' the streets of.Cairo."' * Tho young Englishman became desperate. ; ".Cannot I go to her now before I leave for England 1" he suggested. I Qsman shook his head. I ""You would never reach her," he said. " Once you betray His Highness your life .is forfeited." "But suppose I decided to brave it?" the other asked. ' " Night is falling upon tis," Osman responded. " Wait till it falls, and I will answer you. Wo must camp sootji." Seymour wondered, but the day was drawing to a close and the sun was <ui the. horizon, for they had ridden far. Osman deoided to camp at once, and the little caravan was halted accordingly.Noiselessly, the men pitched tho tents and duly provided them with beds and rich hangings from the camels, while others in a marvellously short time prepared their dinner : When the meal was' announced, the tents were not only complete, but brilliantly illuminated. Seymour touched Osman on tho arm as ho was about to enter the pavilion, which was to he their dining room. ." You promised to tell me something ,whpn night fell." Osman gently removed his arm. ■ " You had better dine first," ho I answered, " or perhaps your appetite may tnffer." They passed in and were served with a dinner which would have borno comparison: with a first-class Paris restaurant. "Tako plenty of wine," commanded Osman. It is good for you in this desert air which is very dry. It is not to bo wondered at that men live so long in it, but it'shrivels up you Englishmen.'' They had finished their tiny cups ot coffee and were idling over cigarettes, Seymour full of anxiety, when Osman tose. •' Come!" ho said Seymour- followed him until lie had reached a point about half a rnile from the encampment; there they were alone and" in pitchy darkness, for the moon had not risen. Osinan raised his arm in the direction in which the sun had set. "Look!" ho commanded. Slowly, out of the black night, there formed a hazy picture; blurred at first, but growing overy moment more distinct. * Seymour's gaze was riveted upon it; lie - »n»tched each figure emerge from the mist *jith a beating heart; the scene was horM'as in the process of being ti^ned 8 e^mour £ avo a cry and

■ ■ —,, ; A WEIRDLY MYSTERIOUS, BRILLIANT STORY.

"I know that man," ho cried.' "It is Hargraves. He was a schoolfellow of mino and wo served hero together in Egypt.'' Ho disappeared suddenly." "Yon will see him no more," commented Osman. . " He dnred to do what you havo done and suffered tho penalty." Presently, tho shrieks of tho victim resounded over the desert; tho flames in their natural colours leapt around him; his body mercifully foil over into the fire. " Enough!" cried Osman as he saw Seymour's body swaying. " You have seen enough to warn you not to betray us." "But what would my fate be?" Seymour gasped. At once the horrible scene reappeared, but this timo it was himseli that was bound to the stake amid tho leaping flames. "Tortured all day, and death by fire at night," repeated Osman. Seymour felt his arm around him as ho fell in a swoon. CHAPTER XI. TUE AWAKENING. When Seymour awoko from the swoon into which lio had fallen on beholding the horrors of tho visions of tho previous night, ho was lying in bed 111 his tent and the sunlight was streaming through the opening. At first his mind" was full of the heartrending scenes he had beheld, but presently these were dispelled and a great elation took their place. Osman entered the tent. " Well," ho asked, "how havo you rested?" " I havo slept without dreams," Seymour answered, "and for that I am thankful, except that toward my wakening, when my mind was straying back to consciousness, I thought of Eva. ,Tcll mo something more of her. Osman shook his head. " We will speak no more of Eva," he answered, "until you come back victorious from England." "But shall I come back victorious?' Soymour asked. " You who havo such great powers ought to tell me." Osman shook his head again. " Come," he said, "rise and bathe, and wo will eat together, and then get on our journey to the railway." Seymour required no further invitation; tho beautiful air of tho desert had given him a keen appetite. A servant entered with an india-rubber bath tilled with hot wat6r, which was heavily scented with Eastern perfumes. In this Seymour bathed, and rapidly dressed for the journey. The breakfast was what one could have expected in a first-class hotel in Paris, but thero, was added to it an abundance of tho finest fruit. Seymour almost cleared a dish of cutlets,, cooked to perfection, with a good sauce, before ho could devote himself to the luscious fruit. Meanwhile, Osman looked on much amused at the Englishman's fine appetite. He, himself, was content with a small cup of black coffee and a cigarette. When Soymour's app.etite was appeased ho too,, lit a cigarette and waited for orders. Theso soon come. »

"I see you aro equipped for your journey," Osman said. " I ride forward "with you until you come in sight of the railwayj then I leavo you." " Is it not possible for you to come farther with meSeymour asked. " No." was the answer, " it is utterly impossible. I never even approach the railway. I disliko it." The tents were once more packed up, the riclily-furnished divans disappeared, and the camels fell into their long line. The desert to Seymour looked lovely on this sunny morning; he was. loth to .exchange tho sweet, ihvigorating air for the closeness of the train. • However, the departure had been accurately timed for Seymour to catch the Port Said express. > He looked round as the railway became visible with a shunting engine, sending upclouds of steam.! He waved his hand. " Good-bye," ho said. " I may never see the descct again." Cut his farewell to Osman was much more imprfissivfe: • It seemed to Seymour that, ho, was sofry ho was and sympathised, wiih him in his difficult undertaking. 'But, Osman's faco was a stranger to tears. He took Seymour's hand in his and pressed it. "Have a fcaro how you go," ho said. " Your path will b,e set with pitfalls, you must uso' great' circumspection to avoid them. But I- hopo to see you come back victorious with our brother with you. Then 'your path-in life will be straight ami sunlit."

" And: you will help me ?" Seymour asked.

. "I -will help you ns much as'l liave Iho power to do. That you may rely upon." " And Eva," Seymour continued. "Will you guard her, if it is possiblo for you to do so, until I come back?" Osman's almost sweet smilo came to his face again. "Yes; If will fry and guard her," he answered. . . The caravan had halted now and Seymour and" Osman dismounted. The railway station was in full view. Seymour laid his hand on Osman's arm. " Tell me," lie said in a beseeching voico, " what my Eva is doing now?" . Osman'seemed to be looking faraway. " Sho is thinking of you," no said. "She is sad that she has received no letter from you. Write to her before yoli leave "l had intended to do so," Seymour! replied, " but I can tell her very littlo. Simply that lam going to England. No moi'f.-" • . j "You dare not (ell her more." Osman i replied . sternly, "or you would meet a terrilile fate." Seymour extended his hand and Osman took it between his own two again. " Be of good cheer," ho said. " and ! be valiant and true, and all will come > right. Hero is the sealed-packet which lam commanded to give you. Do n6t opr-n it till you have left Port Said." Then Seymour sprang lightly on to bis camel again and raised his hand, after secreting the packet.. " Farewell, good friend," he said. " Farewell!" Osman answered. And the caravan moved off toward the station. The last he saw of the mystic, Osman. was a tall figure with hands clasped, watching him as he went. CHAPTER XII. SUKX'KXSES FOR DAIJHAM. When Seymour had dismounted from his | camel and had offered bakshees to the i camel men—which, to his astonishment, i they refused —he entered the station, from j which he had started with the stationmaster's bicycle, to discover the centenarian. Ho was surprised 'vlicn a man with tho , appearance of au English valet approached liiin anrl touched his cap. Ho pointed to ;i littlo heap of luggage 011 the plat- j form " I think I havo got everything you j wanted, sir," ho said. " I was very j careful to follow out your instructions." To his amazement, Seymour saw his own baggage before him, which 110 himself had locked up in a room in his flat at I .Cairp,, , , , > " My instructions?" ho repeated." j" Tho valet, looked rather surprised. "Yes, sir," . lie answered. "Tho in-1 structions in your letter which was de- ' livered to mo in Cairo." Then tho inspiration came to Seymour! to accept all this as a matter of course; I he knew full well it was tho marvellous work of Osman. Oh, very well," ho answered the man,! " that's all right, I had frogottcn tho let- 1 ter. Do you happen to have it with you?" , 1110 man produced it at onco from his pocket. • j Yes, it was a letter in his own hand-t writing, signed with his, usual signature. 1 He learned from, it that the valet's namo was John Willett, and that bis« rate*of .■ pay was ten pounds a month. The letter, contained instructions to pack up his I clothes for tho journey.

Ho handed back the letter, and looked ovef tho baggage; ; ' Everything was there which he might require, including a tall hat in its leather case. He foresaw that ho should bo confronted with a series of theso surprises, so determined to bo propared for tliem.

But, now a diversion arose. The Port Said train was due and the stationmaster camo running along • the platform waving a wliito packet.

>" So glad to see you!" he exclaimed. " I havo here all your letters for you which you asked mo to keep." 110 placed in Seymour's hands a packet, of letters, and the top onQ lie knew at once; it was in Eva's handwriting. " There is just timo for ono iced whisky and soda and a cigar." continued the station-master, " before your train leaves." He led tlio way to his office. " This is verv kind of you, monsieur/' Seymour remarked when ho was seated in the bureau with a sparkling glass of whisky and soda bofore him. '"lt is just what I wanted after that rido across the desert."

" Where havo you coma from?" tho chef asked.

Seymour was confronted with his first difficulty; ho could uot say ho had come from tho pyramid. " Oh, from Siwa," ho answered, which was not incorrect.

" I am very glad to see you back," tho chef continued, " becauso there wercv rumours among tho villagers that you had been murdered."

" Murdered! " Seymour exclaimed, and his heart grew cold. " Yes, they were full of it," tho other repeated. " They insisted that you had entered the Pyramid of Siwa and that you would never be heard of again. That Is why I was so glad to sec you." " And how.did you get tho letters?" Seymour asked, trying to brush aside the other subject. t ... . : The .station-master looked surprised. " Why, you had them sent to mo from your railway works," ho said, and you wrote and told me so." y

" Oil, of course," answered the Englishman, as if suddenly recollecting.l think tho desert air has got into my head and made mo forgetful." Seymour finished his whisky "and soda iust as-the ,warning, wlustlb of the PortSaid express was heard. ' He walked.out of the office, smoking hi? cigar, just as the train drew up.

It was a novelty to him to find a smart English valet holding open the door of tho reserved smoking compartment. • He felt instinctively for. his tickets and took out his note-case.

" You had better go and take the tickets," he said to the valet. The latter at once produced them from his pocket. " The places in the train were reserved yesterday, sir," lie said. " Hie stationmaster has just handed me the tickets." Seymour got into his reserved carriage and found it plentifully supplied with current literature for the journey. But Seymour did not require literature; he had Eva's letter in his pocket still unread, and this absorbed all his interest till ho had reached the end of it.

" Why do you not ■write to mo every day," Eva complained, " as you used to do ? Arc you ceasing to love mc 1 " The words cut him to the quick; he determined that when he got on board the liner ho would write her one of the most affectionate letters she had ever received from him. That would bo his first task, and ho would endeavour to koop a diarv of all ho did on board and post her portions of it at every port they touched. But he bad 'other heavy tasks as well. Ho had to explain his position to the railway department and state why he had left Egypt, and gone to England without first asking leave. Then the thought struck him that ho would wire for le„avc at the next station, putting forward " very urgent private affairs " as the reason, nskas a special favour.

This he carried out at the next stoppage, asking for a reply to Port Said. Fortunately, he knew well lie had good friends on the directorate of the railway. Ho believed that tlicy had confidence in him. and would trust him. He was determined now to train himself not to marvel at anything; indeed, he was beginning to look forward to future surprises with pleasure and amusement. The compartment he was in, though one of the best on the train—being a coupe to himself—was very close and stuffy as the strength of the sun increased. Ho was not at all surprised, howover, to find that a block of icc had been placed in the corner. Although called " express. " the train dragged on with many stoppages., and ;t was over three hours before tho white houses, clear blue sea and golden sands of Port Said drew in sight. Port Said, celebrated for its soles for over all that part of Egypt, though the little fishes look, to us, accustomed to the Dover product, more like dabs.

His man was waiting for him to des cend from the train.

" A tendor is waiting, sir, to tako us out to tho ship," lie said. "Is there anything you will want on going aboard? " "I"shall change into white drill, Willett," Seymour answered. " You can see to that. I think that is all." Ho picked his way through the Eastern crowd and went aboard tho tender; he was glad to get away from Port Said and its incessant chatter.

There were very few passengers embarking at Port Said, fortunately nsjio that he knew; ho would not be bothered by a hundred questions about his journey and its object.

Whfcn tho tender reached the liner lie went straight down to the writing room and fulfilled his promise to write Eva a long and kind letter; this he finished in time for it to go back in the tenders. Then he went down to his cabin—one of the best on tho ship—and changed into cool-looking white drill. As ho emptied the pockets of the khaki suit- ho had worn, he took out the sealed packet which had hoen given him by Osman. He' read tho instructions on its cover again.

"To bo opened and read only when tho linrr on which you will travel has left Egypt." . Seymour knew that the ship would not sail for an hour, and lie dared not open it within sight of land.' He determined to keep it locked in his dressing case until after 'tiffin, for which the bell was just sounding. So, with a good appetite, he descended the com-panion-way to the saloon. Tho sealed packet which Osman had handed to Seymour lay before him now fni the. table in his cabin. Tho coast of Egypt was sinkiug in the distance; lie wjts entitled to opeil the packet. He broke'tho seals, which he saw bore the head of a woman, obviously an Egyptian goddess. lie spread the papers it contained; large, broad sheets, before him and began to rend; it was written in classical Arabic, probably to conceal its contents from the multitude. Seymour read it with the greatest ease.

" Signoseth, high priest of tho Goddess Islitar, giveth greeting to all to whom this may come, but especially to those who aro of tho cult of the goddess. It has pleased us to send forth into tho world a stranger named Seymour Barha.ni, an Englishman, who has crossed tho threshold of the Tomb of 'fanimus unbiddon, but whoso life has been spared that ho may go forth to save our brother Ahmed-who. placed himself beyond our power to aid him, and who now is incarcerated in London, the capital of tho English, in a prison called Brixton, awaiting trial for tho murder of a worthless fellow named Marchmont.

" Now, to all to whom theso presents may come, I, Signoseth,' high priest :of (lie goddess Islitar; command'all of the cult of tho goddess to assist tho bearer, Seymour Barham. to the utmost of their power, in aiding our beloved lost brother Ahmed to escape from the rope of the English executioner. " And I hereby command the bearer of theso presents, Seymour Barham, immediately on his arrival in England, to report himself to our good brother, who is known in England as Sir Ainroth Milvain, who lives in a place called Hampstead adjacent to London, and to submit himself entirely to the srid Sir Amroth Milvain's will and advice in this matter. " Given in the Tomb of Tammus on tho 10th day of tho moon of Osiris, in the year of the creation nine thousand and eighty-four." ... - ? . Seymour laid down tho letter bewildered. (To bo continued on Saturday next.)