WELL OF GOLD

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22945, 25 January 1938, Page 17

WELL OF GOLD

By BENTLEY RIDGE

CHAPTER X.r-(Continued)

Lynne was deeply mortified, she wished above all things that the part she had played had not been so underhand.

"I'm not thirsty," she said, and her lips were dry as she spoke. "A moment ago you said you were frightfidly thirsty. Or was that in the* hope that I'd get suffocated by sand on my way to get tho water?" camo Guthrie's voice in the dark.

Scarified by the justice of this remark, Lynne realised how impossible it was to go on sheltering under his blanket. She rolled over sideways into tho open, and getting to her feet, madu her way through tho gritty haze toward the camels. The wind buffeted her, and the sand stung her face and neck, but the sky was clearing; here and there she could Seo tho horizon through the stifling haze, and she saw with a vast feeling of relief that the storm was not going to last as long as Guthrie had feared.

In a moment or two, as she crouched on her knees in the shelter of a bush, protecting her face from the flying sand with her arms, Guthrie came to her side. He cast a doubtful glance round, crouching down to escape the rush of sand over tho top of the bush. His hair was white with dust; sand stood on his eyelashes. Seething with wrath he held out the water flask and said: "Darn it all! Here we are in the middle of a sandstorm in the middle of a desert. You're engaged in some sort of conspiracy against me. You fooled me pretty thoroughly"down there in the river bed. You ought to be jolly glad I don't wring your neck and bury you in a nice grave out here with a stone or two on top! Do you think anyono would ever find you?"

Lynne laughed in spite of herself. "You're not a murderer," she said

"No—only a damn fool collector of ancient rubbish— and much, much too chivalrous. I don't believe in chivalry—• look here, will you drink that water?" The last demand was made with such explosive exasperation that Lynne took the bottle to save further trouble, and drank a long, grateful draught. "Now lie down under a blanket," said Guthrie, as she handed the bottle back to him, her head bowed, and her eyes half-blinded by the sand. Ho stood up and held out the blanket. Lynne, blinking through grit, could see very little; she rose, intending to protest, and Guthrie, without further ado grasped her by the elbows and pushed her down on to tho ground. Her protests were drowned as the blanket descended on her; she lay in muffled darkness, alone this time and very conscious of the absurdity of the situation. Evidently, in spite of his usually even manner, one must not annoy him too much.

She ventured to peep out after a moment or two when she got her eyes clear of sand, and she saw him sitting huddled with his back to the wind a few feet away from her. But the wind was dying, and in another ten minutes only a light breeze was carrying loose eddies of dust over the surface of the sand. A new difficulty arose, though in the fact that the sun was sinking and it would soon be doirk.

"Well," said Guthrie. "There's no going back to Diala for mo to-night! Where you want to go I have no idea, ff you want to come with me you can. But I'm afraid I don't feel inclined to follow your lead any further." "All right," said Lynne. "Then we'll part." Guthrie paused as he finished tightening his camel's girth. "Where £to you going?" "Back to where you found me," replied Lynne. "You can't get there before dark!" said Guthrie.

"Never mind," said Lynne coolly; but for all her coolness her heart misgave her as she looked at the empty wastes. Even now sho was not quite certain —was it over the most easterly of the two sandy ridges behind them that the dried-up water course lay? Or was it behind the other?

"What do you propose to do!'" Lynne asked Guthrie, after a moment. "There's a well, a small oasis called Yezd, which ought to be about three iniles away, on the other side of the hill over there. I was going to try to find it and spend the night there, but if you are going back to the wadi, I suppose I shall have to go with you." Realising that it would be better to keep him away from the river-bed and the ruins of the fort as long as possible, Lynne said after some hesitation: "I'll follow you to Yezd, I think." "Very well," said Guthrie, as though it were a matter of complete indifference to him, which it was not. And a few minutes later they set out, with Guthrie in the lead. • • • • • After the storm the sand lay over the hills so smoothly, so glitteringly in the sun that it had the appearance of newfallen snow. The wind soon dropped to utter quiet as quickly as it had arisen, and now not even a haze of dust could be seen in the south where the storm had passed away. They rode in silence until the sun was low on the horizon, and when they rode over the saddle of the hill Guthrie had pointed out ; they saw below them in the neck 01 a wide valley, the dark cluster of trees, so rare a sight in the eternal dusts of the plateau. Whereever there was water, life sprang riotous from the soil; in this lonely spot grew planes and mulberrys, hiding with rank verdue the low roofs of a few Ilyat huts and the decayed walls of what had once been the dwelling of some wealthy merchant. Low and rambling, in a shady garden of roses growing in wild profusion, the house was decorated with blue-green faience which gleamed in the twilight as Lynne and Guthrie rode along the track beside the wells.

A few Ilyats gathered to stare at tliern. An aged man with a white beard and a high astrakhan hat emerged from the house, and after some hesitation came to welcome them.

Guthrie explained, in Arabic, that he and the English lady had been held up by a dust storm and could not get to their destination before dark. Bowing a trembling head the old Persian begged them to accept the hospitality of his roof for the night. "What do you say?" Guthrie asked Lynne. "Shall we go in?" "Very well," Lynne replied, after a moment's hesitation.

Shooing from his path a straying goat or two, the old Persian called to tho Ilyats to water their camels; and then led Guthrie and Lynne along a winding path to the foriorn-looking house. Stil and peaceful, the sunset sky shone through the leaves. Everywhere flowers were pale in the gloom and hero and there hovered over the glimmering darkness of sunken water tanks.

The events of the day, tho situation between herself and Guthrie were all forgotten in hushed wonder as Lynne passed through this garden paradise. And Guthrie, too, looked' about him in forgctfulness, impressed by tho dim, wild beauty of the scene. In the house all was aged and decayed; a woman not as old as the man, apparently a servant, lighted their way with an oil lamp whoso wick burned with an uncovered flame. Their shadows '"moved before them enormously along passages lined with patterned tiles, as with wordless smiles and black eyes agleam in the lamplight the old lady showed Lynne to a separate! chamber in what had once been the nnderoo, or harem quarters of tho house.

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A STORY OF A SEARCH FOR TREASURE, A QUEST THAT LEADS TO ADVENTURE AND ROMANCE

The chamber contained nothing but a torn curtain over the door, a wide couch in the centre of the room over which the servant had.thrown a clean cotton cover, and a barred grating opening into the garden. The old servant set the lamp on the floor and with Guthrie —who had followed into thcsp once sacrosanct quarters to see what was happening—went away, leaving Lynne alone. She stood and stared before her, her hands clasping her bolt, smelling the strange smell of the house, thinking and wondering, until she heard Guthrie's step coming back along the passage: "May I come in?"

"Yes, do I" He pushed aside the curtain and came into the room carrying an earthern bowl full of water.

"Here you arc. I asked for this for you; I don't believe in chivalry, but I thought you might like to wash your face."

"Thank you," said Lynne, stepping forward in surprise. She took ho.ld of the bowl, and still holding the other side of it, he remarked: "As I don't believe in chivalry I may point out that your face is very dirty indeed!"

"Thank you," said Lynne again, and jerked tho bowl so that the water splashed over his hands and poured down on to his boots. "Damn!" said Guthrie, letting go hastily, with a laugh. He took out a handkerchief and dried his hands.

"Do you call that gratitude," he said.

"Do you call your own remark polite?" Lynne said. "No —.it's the truth. You have a long black smudge—" "If you'll go away perhaps I might wash it off."

"Certainly." He swung round to the doorway, then looked back. "Our host says that he wants us to eat with him in a 'little while.' But if I know the length of time it takes them to get a feast ready it will bo a very long while."

Ho went out; Lynne set the bowl of water down on the sill of the window. She was confused by his manner, with its puzzling mixture of hostility and an obvious desire to be on more familiar terms with her.

Outside a nightingalo began to sing. Nightingales! This seemed to be the land of nightingales. Lynne splashed cool water on her face, and siood up, drying it with the clean, rough towel. She looked out at the dim fragrant night beyond the grating. What, a strange, enchanting place! She combed her hair, using the comb and mirror in the little case she had pushed into the pocket of her slacks that morning. Then she lay 'down on the broad divan and remained staring into the shadows in a kind of dream. And, indeed, everything did seem like a dream; all this was so far from homo, and so unexpected. Guthrie, too, was like a person whom on(j met in a dream; so abruptly had she been thrown into close contact with his personality. She had a confused, heady feeling, almost as though sho had had too much wine to drink. Sho was still lying there when the old woman camo to the door with a lamp held over her head, , with incomprehensible murmurs, indicated that Lynne was to follow her. Lynne did so, and at the end of a passage they came to a room hung round with rugs and tapestry, with a beautiful blue-tiled floor. Here were Guthrie and the old Persian. They sat down on cushions to eat the repast which was laid on tho floor, and the old woman and a little girl shuffled to and fro waiting on them. There were dishes of lettuce, the inevitable pilau of rice, sour plums in a bowl, and sherbets of strange and (delicate flavours. They drank pale golden tea without milk.

The old Persian exchanged a few words in Arabic with Guthrie, but as neither could understand much that the other said, it was a meal of amiable smiles and polite gestures. The lamp-light threw great shadows on the richly patterned hangings. Guthrie sat opposite Lynne, and though they hardly spoke to one another, ho watched her, noticing the transluscent whiteness of her face in the soft light, and tho mysterious gleam of her eyes, as they sometimes met his own.

Lvnne felt curiously lazy, as if under a spell, languidly disregarding everything, who she was, and what Guthrie was, and everything that was designed to part them. She seemed to be drifting, drifting, drawn by the spell of that clean-cut figure with the dark, goodhumoured face ; who sat opposite smiling and throwing foreign words at the old Persian, while his gaze, intent and arresting, was ever and again on herself.

When the long and polite repast was finished it was like waking up from a dream; only to go on dreaming again afterwards, after she had excused herself and said that she must retire as she was tired.

Guthrie was looking at her intently, almost anxiously, and sho knew that ho did not want her to go. But it was the Persian custom to retire immediately after the meal, and in a moment the old Persian would be bowing and excusing himself. Lynne followed the old woman with the lamp again back to the room with the grating into the garden; the old woman left licr the lamp, but Lynne blew it out, and then lay down on the divan without undressing. _ Iho darkness smelled of jasmine, drifting in with the cool night air from the garden.

For how long she lay there, dreamy, yet tense in every nerve, sho hardly knew. A nightingale had sung and gone away, when she heard a step outside on the stone-paved walk and soon a smell of tobacco mingled itself with the scents of the flowers.

She lay quite still, listening, while her heart began to beat heavily. The footsteps sounded again, and stopped near her window; after a moment she got up and went to the grating and stood against it, looking out. Stars showed in the sky above the surrounding trees. A wide tank sunk in tho ground by the paved walk showed hero and there a steely glimmer in its profound blackness. ' A dark figure on the left of the grating turned toward her arid she saw the glow of a cigarette. "Did you hear the nightingale P" said Guthrie's voice. "Yes." They hushed their voices in the quiet. Guthrie came nearer to the grating. "This is a queer place, isn't it?" "It's rather sad in a way," said Lynne. "So lovely and so neglectod." "I wonder why on earth you brought me here?" "I didn't bring you here." "No; but I wonder why you tricked me into coming away from that wadi?" "Surprising how far away all that seems. Even though I know you're up to some devilment or other, I can't think very seriously about it here." She heard the hiss of his cigarette as it was thrown into tho tank. "It's difficult here to remember quite where one is, and who one is," Lynne admitted. "Then let's forget,!' said Guthrie. (To bo continued daily)