The Curved Blades

With a wave of his hand and a few short commands, he sent the bothersome Arabs flying, and greeted Pauline with affectionate enthusiasm.

“Polly, dear! but I’m glad to see you! Have you had a good trip? But such questions must wait a bit. Where are your checks? Do you see your boxes?”

“There’s only one, and some hand things. Here is – ”

“All right,” and Loria took the little sheaf of papers she produced from her handbag. “Ahri, look after these.”

A tall Arab glided to Loria’s side, and took the checks. “Ahri is my dragoman and body-servant and general factotum,” said Loria, by way of introduction. “This lady, Ahri, is my cousin, Miss Stuart. Her word is law.”

“Yes, Mr. Loria. Miss Stoort is queen of all.”

The man made a salaam of obeisance and turned away to look after the luggage.

“He’s a wonder, that Ahri,” said Carrington Loria, looking after the retreating Arab. “But be very haughty with him, Polly. He presumes upon the least encouragement. Treat him like the dust under your feet, and he’ll adore you.”

“That’s easy enough,” and Pauline smiled. “I’m scared to death of these brown and black men. But your servant is so grand of costume.”

“Yes, he’s a very high-class affair. Handsome chap and fond of dress. But he’s invaluable to me. Speaks almost perfect English, and knows everything there is to know, – and then some. Knows, too, everybody who has ever been in Cairo or ever thought of coming here. And he possesses the proud distinction of being the only dragoman here-abouts who hasn’t a letter of recommendation from Hichens. You haven’t that, have you, Ahri?” for the Arab had just reappeared.

A marvelous set of white teeth gleamed in the sunlight, as the response came quickly: “I had one, Mr. Loria, but I sold it. They are of use to others; Ahri needs none.” His self-conceit was superb, and he spoke with the air of a prince. But warned by Loria, Pauline gave him no answering smile, rather a patronizing nod, and Ahri’s respect for the newcomer went up several points.

“Come along, girlie,” commanded Carrington and he took Pauline’s arm as he hurried her to the boat-train.

Watchful Ahri showed them to the compartment he had secured for them, and soon they were on their way to Cairo.

“Now, tell me everything,” said Carr Loria, as they sat alone. “This is a three-hour trip and I want to know the whole story. Just think, Pauline, I’ve had only a few letters, and they were – well, – they were almost contradictory in some ways. So tell me all, from the beginning.”

Pauline did, and by the time they reached Cairo, Loria knew as much as she of the death of their aunt and the subsequent search for the murderer.

“Wasn’t it strange,” he mused, “that that Bates person should go in to kill her, the very night somebody else had the same intention?”

“Well, but, Carr, Bates didn’t start out to kill her, you know; he went to steal the jewels, and he knew they were all in the house that night, because Estelle told him so. Now, of course, whoever gave her the poison, must have known it too – ”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why didn’t somebody want to put her out of the way to get a bequest? Not necessarily the Count gentleman, but maybe one of the servants. Maybe that Estelle? Didn’t she receive a legacy in Aunt Lucy’s will?”

“Yes, but nobody has thought of suspecting her.”

“Don’t see why not. I thought of her first clip. I don’t think that Stone paragon amounts to much. Hey, what are you blushing about? Sits the wind in that quarter?”

“Don’t tease me, Carr. I do like him better than any man I ever saw, but – ”

“And so you ran away and left him! Out with it, Polly. Tell your old Uncle Dudley the story of your life!”

“There’s nothing to tell, Carr, about Mr. Stone. But I came to you, because some people suspect me, —ME– of – of killing Aunt Lucy – ”

“Pauline! They don’t! Who suspects you?”

“All the police people, and Gray and Anita Frayne, – ”

“They do! You poor little girl! I’m glad you came to me. I’ll take care of you. But, Polly, whom do you suspect? Honest, now, who is in your mind?”

“I don’t know, Carr. I can’t seem to think. But when they fastened it on me, I was so frightened, I just flew. Why, just think, every one at Garden Steps was suspicious of me! I could see it even in the servants’ eyes. I couldn’t stand it, and I was afraid – ”

“Yes, dear, go on, – ”

“Well, I was afraid Mr. Stone would think so, and I couldn’t bear that, so I just ran off on impulse. I regretted it lots of times on the trip over, – and then at other times I was glad I came. Are you glad?”

“Sure, Polly. I wanted you to stick to your plan of coming over, you know. Yes, I’m glad you’re here. Now, we’ll soon be in Cairo, and you’ll love it, – all the strange sights and experiences. You’ll live at Shepheard’s for the present. I’ve engaged a chaperon for you.”

“How thoughtful you are, Carr.”

“Oh, of course, a beautiful young woman can’t live alone in Cairo, and also of course, you couldn’t live with me. So, Mrs. MacDonald will look after you, but she won’t in any way bother you. Whenever you need a duenna, she’ll be right at your elbow, and when you don’t want her about, she is self-effacing. You’ll like her, too, she’s not half-bad as a companion.”

At Cairo, Ahri handed them from the train. Again Polly was impressed with the Arab’s dignified bearing and rich costume. His long galabeah, shaped like a well-fitting bathrobe, was of white corded silk, exquisitely embroidered. Collarless, it gave glimpses of other silken vestments, and over it he wore a correct English topcoat, short and velvet-trimmed. From his tarbush to his English shoes and silk hose, he was perfectly garbed and groomed, while the scarab ring on his little finger was the only bit of jewelry visible.

“That’s nothing,” laughed Loria, following her glance. “Wait till you see him in all the glory of his burnoose and other contraptions. Here, Ahri, take this duffel, too. And, now, Polly-pops, you’ll see Cairo.”

The ride to the hotel was like a moving picture in color. The street crowds were rushing by, a flare of bright-hued raiment and dark-skinned faces. Everywhere, baubles were for sale. Street vendors carried them on their heads, in their arms, or thrust them forth with eager hands.

Post-cards, jewelry, scarfs, and fans. Fly-whisks with dangling beads. Embroideries, carved ivories, brasses, sweetmeats, fruits and newspapers, all were successively and collectively offered for immediate, almost compulsory sale.

“And I want to buy every one!” declared Pauline, entranced at the sight of the catch-penny toys.

“All in good time, honey. To-morrow, Ahri shall take you to the bazaars, with or without Mrs. MacDonald, as you choose, and you can get a bushel of foolishness if you want to. Everybody has to cure that first mad desire to buy rubbish, by yielding to it. You soon get enough.”

“Then I may go alone with Ahri to the shops?”

“Yes, anywhere, by daylight, except to social affairs. There, or to any in-door entertainment, you must take her. But she’ll know all these things. Abide always by her decision.”

“But won’t you be with me, Carr? You speak as if I will be much without you.”

“I’m awfully busy, Pauline; I’ll tell you all about it this evening. Then you’ll understand. Here we are at Shepheard’s. Did you ever see such a horde of freaks?”

It was just about dusk. The last rays of the Egyptian sunset were lingering, as if for Pauline to get one glimpse of the picture by their rainbow lights. Many were at tea on the broad Terrace; the scarlet-coated band crashed their brasses; and Pauline entered the hotel, her whole being responding to the strange thrill that Cairo gives even to the most phlegmatic visitor or jaded tourist.

Later, at dinner, she met Mrs. MacDonald, a correct, tactful and diplomatic widow, who looked forward with pleasure to the chaperonage of the beautiful girl to whom she was introduced.

At Loria’s advice, Pauline had put on evening dress; and she made a striking picture, in black tulle, devoid of all jewelry or ornament save a breast-knot of purple orchids her cousin had sent to her rooms.

At dinner, conversation was general, and the trio was made a quartet by the addition of an English friend of Loria’s whom he ran across in the hotel lobby. Later, after they had had their coffee in the great hall, Mrs. MacDonald and the Englishman strolled away and the cousins were left alone.

“How beautiful you have grown, Pauline,” Carr said, his eyes resting on her piquant face, crowned with its mass of soft, dark hair.

“Speak for yourself, John,” she returned smiling up into the handsome, sunburned face of the man who scrutinized her. “You have acquired not only a becoming tan, but a new air of distinction.”

“Glad you think so, girlie. Thanks a whole lot. How do you like the MacDonald?”

“Very much so far. She won’t try to boss me, will she?”

“Not unless you make it necessary; but you must remember that English etiquette obtains in Cairo, and you mustn’t try to be unconventional, except as Mrs. MacDonald approves.”

“Oh, I won’t disgrace you, Carr, I’ve common sense, I hope. Now tell me about yourself.”

“I’m deep in a new project, Polly, a wonderful one. It’s an enormous undertaking, but I shall put it through all right.”

“What is it? Excavation?”

“In a way. But here’s the story. Mind, now, it’s a dead secret. Don’t mention it to Mrs. Mac. I trust you with it, but it must go no further. Well, in a word, I’ve come into possession of an old papyrus, that tells of a treasure – ”

“Oh, Carr, are you a treasure-seeker?”

“Now, wait till I tell you. This papyrus is authentic, and it’s nothing more nor less than an account of a great hoard of jewels and gold sunk, purposely, by an old Egyptian king to save them from seizure. You wouldn’t understand all the reasons that prove this is a true bill, but it is, and so you must take my word for it. All right. The old duffer saw fit to sink this stuff in the Nile, at a certain spot, designated in this papyrus thing, and all I’ve got to do is to dig her up, and there you are!”

Carr Loria’s face lighted up with the enthusiasm of the true archæologist, and Pauline caught the spirit, too, as she exclaimed, “How splendid! How do you get down to it, – if it’s under the Nile?”

“It’s a big scheme, Polly!” and Loria’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve got to have a coffer-dam, an enormous one, – and, oh, and a whole lot of paraphernalia, and it will cost like fury, but the end justifies the expense, – and then, think of the glory of it!”

“Have you got a right to do all this? Can anybody dig wherever he likes in Egypt?”

“No, you little goose! But I’ve managed all that part. I won’t tell even you about it, but I’ve – well, I’ve fixed it up. Now, listen here, Pollypops, you’re to tell just simply nobody a word of all this, – not one, littlest, leastest mite of a word! See?”

“All right, Carr, of course I won’t tell, if you say not to. But will you be away from us? Out of Cairo?”

“Off and on. I’ll be back and forth, you know. This place is up the Nile a bit, and, of course, I have to be there much of the time. But you’ll be all right. I know heaps of people, jolly sort, too, and Mrs. Mac will take you round, and you’ll have the time of your sweet young life!”

“I’m sure I shall. But, Carr, have you forgotten all about America, and Aunt Lucy and – and Fleming Stone?”

“No, Pauline, I haven’t forgotten those things. But, I own up, aside from the awful circumstances, I’m not terribly wrought up over Aunt Lucy’s death. Poor old thing, she wasn’t so awfully happy, you know, and Lord knows, she didn’t make anybody else happy. Then, too, you must realize that as I wasn’t there, through the dreadful time, as you were, I can’t feel the same thrill and horror of it. In fact, I try to forget it all I can, as I can’t do anybody any good by mulling over it. So, if you want to please me, old girl, you’ll refer to it as little as you can.”

“But don’t you care who killed her? Don’t you want to find out the murderer and bring him to justice?”

“I want that done, Polly, but I don’t want to do it. That’s why I put it all in Haviland’s hands; that’s why I didn’t want to go to America, unless, as I told you at first, unless you needed me. I can’t pay proper attention to my work here if I have any such worriment as that on my shoulders. And I tell you, Pauline, this chance that has come to me is the chance of a lifetime, the chance of a century! It means fortune, fame and glory for me. It means – oh Pauline, it means everything!”

“All right, Carr, I won’t interfere in anyway with your work. I’ll do as you tell me, but – but if they continue to suspect me, – ”

“Suspect you! My dear girl! Let ’em try it! I’ll see to that! Don’t you fear. If anything bothers you, just leave it to me! Ah, here come our truants. Now, Polly, for my sake, leave all those subjects for the present, and be your own dear entertaining self.”

And Pauline granted his request, and was so attractive and charming that the Englishman straightway fell over head and heels in love and Mrs. MacDonald was torn between throes of admiration and envy.

XXIII

TWO WILLS

For a few days Loria staid in Cairo, and devoted all his time to the amusement and entertainment of Pauline. Together they visited the Sphinx and the Great Pyramids. Together they made trips to Old Cairo and to the Ostrich Farm. Together they saw the Little Petrified Forest. But the immediate sights of Cairo, the tombs, mosques and bazaars, Loria told her, she could visit with Mrs. MacDonald or with their dragoman, after he and Ahri had gone on their trip up the Nile.

Pauline was happy. At Carr’s request she had endeavored to put out of her mind the horrors she had been through. Frightened at the suspicions directed toward herself, fearing that she could not successfully combat them, – and, for another reason, – she had fled to Egypt, and her cousin’s protection. This other reason she had almost dismissed from her mind, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment of the novelty and interest of her present situation.

After their sight-seeing each day, they returned for tea on the Terrace at Shepheard’s or went to Ghezireh Palace for it, or to the house of some friend. Dinner was always a pleasant affair, and they had frequent guests and were often invited out.

As Pauline was wearing mourning, no large social affairs were attended, and under Mrs. MacDonald’s guidance the girl pursued her happy way.

Nearly a week after Pauline’s arrival, Loria told her that the next day he must leave her, and go up the Nile to attend to his work there. They were in the sitting room of Pauline’s pleasant suite at the hotel, and Mrs. MacDonald promised to cherish most carefully her charge in Loria’s absence.

“How long shall you be away, Carr?” asked Pauline.

“It’s uncertain, Polly. Perhaps only a few days this time, perhaps a week. I’ll be back and forth, you know, and you’re bound to find enough to interest you. Keep me advised of any news from America. You can always reach me by mail or wire, or telephone if need be. And, here’s another matter, Pauline. You know, this work I’m up against is more or less dangerous.”

“Dangerous, how?”

“Well, there’s blasting and danger of cave-ins and such matters, – but don’t feel alarmed, I’ll probably come through all right. Only, I want to make my will, so if anything should happen, you’ll be my heir without any fuss about it.”

“Oh, don’t talk about such things, Carr. You frighten me.”

“Nonsense, don’t take it like that. Now, see here. You know my way. Touch and go is my motto. So, I’ve asked a lawyer chap to come here to-night and fix up things. Suppose you make your will, too. Then it will seem more like a business matter, and not as if either of us expects to die soon. Who’s your heir to be, Polly?”

“Why, I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it.”

“But you ought to. You see, now you’re some heiress, and it isn’t right not to have a will made, – on general principles. To be sure, you may marry, – ”

“Oh, I don’t think I ever will, Carr!”

“Nonsense, Pollypops, of course you will. But you must take your time and select a good chappie. Now, how does this strike you? Jeffries, my lawyer, is coming here, right away. Suppose we each make a will, leaving all our worldly goods to each other. Then, later, when you decide on your life mate, you can change and rearrange as you like.”

“But I haven’t any fortune yet. Aunt Lucy’s estate isn’t all settled, is it?”

“No matter about that. It will be, in course of time. I have every confidence in Haviland, he’s as honest a chap as ever breathed. He’ll fix up all our interests over there, in apple-pie order and don’t you forget it! Humor me in this thing, Polly, and believe I know more of business affairs than you do, and it’s best to do as I say.”

Pauline was easily persuaded, and as the arrangement was conceded to be merely temporary, she agreed. Jeffries came. The two wills were drawn, signed and witnessed, all in correct form. Loria, in his, bequeathed to Pauline all he might die possessed of, and except for a few charities and minor bequests, Pauline left her fortune to Carr. The business was soon over, and Loria took both documents, saying he would put them in his Safe Deposit box for the present, as Pauline had no place for valuable papers.

The next day, Loria, accompanied by the invaluable Ahri, went away to the site of his projected enterprise. This affair was conducted with such strict secrecy that even the location was not known to many. Actual work had not yet been begun, but negotiations and preparations of vast importance were being made, and secret conclaves were held by those most interested. Pauline had been emphatically adjured to give not the least hint to any one whatever of the project, and she had promised faithfully to obey Carr’s injunctions.

The next afternoon, a telegram from Fleming Stone announced his arrival at Alexandria and his immediate appearance in Cairo.

Addressed to her, in Loria’s care, Pauline received it duly, for her mail was brought to her at Shepheard’s, and Carr’s forwarded to him wherever he might be. She had had a cable from Haviland, but no American letters had yet reached her. Stone, having sailed just a week after Pauline’s departure from New York, was arriving eight days after her own advent at Cairo.

The girl’s first emotion was of joy. The thought of seeing Stone again, eclipsed all other thoughts.

“Oh, Mrs. Mac!” she cried, clasping that somewhat rotund matron round the waist and leading her an enforced dance. “Mr. Stone is coming! Will be here for tea! Oh, I am so glad!”

But her second thoughts were more disturbing. Why was he coming? What were his suspicions? Could he be tracking her down? Though Fleming Stone had never said a word of love to her, Pauline knew, by her own heart’s ‘detective instinct,’ that he cared. But, his sense of duty might make it necessary to follow where the trail of suspicion led, even at cost of his own affections. Then, too, could he suspect? – But Pauline’s irrepressible joy at thought of seeing him left her little time or wish to indulge in gloomy forebodings.

Singing, she ran off to dress for Stone’s reception.

“Which is prettier?” she asked of Mrs. Mac, holding up an embroidered white crêpe, of Cairo construction, and a black net gown, brought from New York.

“Wear the white, Miss Stuart. It’s most becoming to you.”

It was, and when arrayed in the lovely, soft, clinging affair, with a cluster of tiny white rose-buds at her belt, Pauline’s unusually pink cheeks and her scarlet flower of a mouth gave all the color necessary.

Her beautiful hair, piled in a crown atop her little head, was held by a carved ivory comb, and beneath their half-drooped lashes her great eyes shone like stars.

For the Terrace, she donned a large white hat, with black ostrich plumes, and flinging a white cape edged with black fur over her arm, she descended to meet her guest.

Though little given to emotional demonstration, Fleming Stone caught his breath with a quick gasp at sight of her, and advanced with outstretched hands and a smile of a sort no one had ever before seen on that always calm face.

“How do you do?” she said, smiling; for, though thrilled herself, she remembered the unfailing curiosity of the Terrace crowds.

But Stone, having taken her two hands in his, stood looking at her as if he intended to pursue that occupation for the rest of his natural life.

“Sit down,” she said, laughing a little nervously under his gaze; “this is our table. Will you have tea?”

“Tea, of course,” and at last Fleming Stone took himself in hand and behaved like a reasonable citizen. “And how are you? And your cousin, where is he?”

“Mr. Loria is out of Cairo just now,” and Pauline turned to give the waiter his order. “But we are three, as I am under most strict surveillance – ” she paused, realizing what that phrase meant to a detective! “Of a perfect dragon of a chaperon,” she continued bravely, trying to control her quivering lip. “Here she comes now.”

The appearance and introduction of Mrs. MacDonald gave Pauline time to regain her poise, and a glance of pathetic appeal to Stone made him take up the burden of conversation for a few moments. And then, with the arrival of the tea, the chat became gayer, and, of course, impersonal.

The Englishman, Pitts, appeared, indeed, he inevitably appeared when Pauline was on the Terrace, and joined the group without invitation.

It was not Fleming Stone’s first visit to Egypt, and he noted with interest the changes, and looked with gladness on things unchanged, as the kaleidoscopic scene whirled about him.

Later, they all went up to Pauline’s sitting room, and viewed the street pageant from second-story windows.

And then, Mrs. MacDonald, after a short and losing battle between her conventions and her kind-heartedness, insisted that Mr. Pitts must take her across the street to buy some imperatively necessary writing-paper.

Outwardly courteous but inwardly of a rampageous unwillingness, Mr. Pitts acquiesced in her scheme, and Fleming Stone politely closed the door behind them.

He turned, to see Pauline looking at him, with a gaze, frightened, but, – yes, surely, – welcoming, and not waiting to analyze the intent of the gaze more deeply, Stone took a chance, and in another instant, held her in his arms so closely that the intent of her glance was of little importance to anybody.

“Pauline!” he breathed, “how I love you! My darling, – mine! No, no, don’t speak – ” and he laid his finger tips on her parted lips, “Just look at me, and so – tell me – ”

The wonderful eyes raised themselves to his, and Stone’s phenomenal insight was not necessary for him to read the message they held.

“You do love me!” he whispered: “oh, my little girl!” and after a long, silent embrace, he cried jubilantly: “Now tell me! Now tell me in words, in words, Pauline, that you do!”

Unhesitatingly, without shyness, Pauline, radiant-faced, whispered, “I love you, dear,” and the vibrant tones filled the simple words to the brim of assurance.

Though it seemed to them but a moment, it was some time later that Mrs. MacDonald’s tap sounded on the door.

“Come,” cried Pauline, springing away from Stone’s side, while he sauntered to the window. “Oh, Mrs. MacDonald, you must know it at once! Mr. Stone is my fiancé!”

Mrs. Mac was duly surprised and delighted, and, after congratulations, sent Stone away to dress for dinner, and endeavored to calm down her emotional charge.

Later that evening, Stone and Pauline sat in the hall watching the people. Almost as much alone as on a desert island, they conversed in low tones, and Stone, between expressions of adoration, told her of his theory of the beauty charm.

With paling face, Pauline listened. “Who?” she whispered. “Who? Do you suspect anybody?”

“You don’t know of your aunt ever having consulted any beauty doctor or any such person?”

“Oh, no! I’m sure she never did. Never!”

“And you don’t know of any one who would give her poison, under pretense of its being a charm or beautifier?”

“Oh, don’t! Don’t ask me!” and, with a face white as ashes, Pauline rose from her chair. “You must excuse me, Mr. Stone. I am ill, – I don’t feel well – . Really I must beg to be excused.”