the size of a small mountain, adding that the Abati had long ago lost all courage and enterprise, and were content to sit in their fertile and mountain-ringed land, feeding themselves with tales of departed grandeur and struggling for rank and high-sounding titles, till the day of doom overtook them.
“I inquired whether she were also content, and she replied, ‘Certainly not’; but what could she do to regenerate her people, she who was nothing but a woman, and the last of an endless line of rulers?
“ ‘Rid me of the Fung,’ she added passionately, ‘and I will give you such a reward as you never dreamed. The old cave-city yonder is full of treasure that was buried with its ancient kings long before we came to Mur. To us it is useless, since we have none to trade with, but I have heard that the peoples of the outside world worship gold.’
“ ‘I do not want gold,’ I answered; ‘I want to rescue my son who is a prisoner yonder.’
“ ‘Then,’ said the Child of Kings, ‘you must begin by helping us to destroy the idol of the Fung. Are there no means by which this can be done?’
“ ‘There are means,’ I replied, and I tried to explain to her the properties of dynamite and of other more powerful explosives.
“ ‘Go to your own land,’ she exclaimed eagerly, ‘and return with that stuff and two or three who can manage it, and I swear to them all the wealth of Mur. Thus only can you win my help to save your son.’ ”
“Well, what was the end?” asked Captain Orme.
“This: They gave me some gold and an escort with camels which were literally lowered down a secret path in the mountains so as to avoid the Fung, who ring them in and of whom they are terribly afraid. With these people I crossed the desert to Assouan in safety, a journey of many weeks, where I left them encamped about sixteen days ago, bidding them await my return. I arrived in England this morning, and as soon as I could ascertain that you still lived, and your address, from a book of reference called Who’s Who, which they gave me in the hotel, I came on here.”
“Why did you come to me? What do you want me to do?” asked the Professor.
“I came to you, Higgs, because I know how deeply you are interested in anything antiquarian, and because I wished to give you the first opportunity, not only of winning wealth, but also of becoming famous as the discoverer of the most wonderful relics of antiquity that are left in the world.”
“With a very good chance of getting my throat cut thrown in,” grumbled Higgs.
“As to what I want you to do,” I went on, “I want you to find someone who understands explosives, and will undertake the business of blowing up the Fung idol.”
“Well, that’s easy enough, anyhow,” said the Professor, pointing to Captain Orme with the bowl of his pipe, and adding, “he is an engineer by education, a soldier and a very fair chemist; also he knows Arabic and was brought up in Egypt as a boy—just the man for the job if he will go.”
I reflected a moment, then, obeying some sort of instinct, looked up and asked:
“Will you, Captain Orme, if terms can be arranged?”
“Yesterday,” he replied, colouring a little, “I should have answered, ‘Certainly not.’ To-day I answer that I am prepared to consider the matter—that is, if Higgs will go too, and you can enlighten me on certain points. But I warn you that I am only an amateur in the three trades that the Professor has mentioned, though, it is true, one with some experience.”
“Would it be rude to inquire, Captain Orme, why twenty-four hours have made such a difference in your views and plans?”
“Not rude, only awkward,” he replied, colouring again, this time more deeply. “Still, as it is best to be frank, I will tell you. Yesterday I believed myself to be the inheritor of a very large fortune from an uncle whose fatal illness brought me back from South Africa before I meant to come, and as whose heir I have been brought up. To-day I have learned for the first time that he married secretly, last year, a woman much below him in rank, and has left a child, who, of course, will take all his property, as he died intestate. But that is not all. Yesterday I believed myself to be engaged to be married; to-day I am undeceived upon that point also. The lady,” he added with some bitterness, “who was willing to marry Anthony Orme’s heir is no longer willing to marry Oliver Orme, whose total possessions amount to under £10,000. Well, small blame to her or to her relations, whichever it may be, especially as I understand that she has a better alliance in view. Certainly her decision has simplified matters,” and he rose and walked to the other end of the room.
“Shocking business,” whispered Higgs; “been infamously treated,” and he proceeded to express his opinion of the lady concerned, of her relatives, and of the late Anthony Orme, shipowner, in language that, if printed, would render this history unfit for family reading. The outspokenness of Professor Higgs is well known in the antiquarian world, so there is no need for me to enlarge upon it.
“What I do not exactly understand, Adams,” he added in a loud voice, seeing that Orme had turned again, “and what I think we should both like to know, is your exact object in making these proposals.”
“I am afraid I have explained myself badly. I thought I had made it clear that I have only one object—to attempt the rescue of my son, if he still lives, as I believe he does. Higgs, put yourself in my position. Imagine yourself with nothing and no one left to care for except a single child, and that child stolen away from you by savages. Imagine yourself, after years of search, hearing his very voice, seeing his very face, adult now, but the same, the thing you had dreamed of and desired for years; that for which you would have given a thousand lives if you could have had time to think. And then the rush of the howling, fantastic mob, the breakdown of courage, of love, of everything that is noble under the pressure of primæval instinct, which has but one song—Save your life. Lastly, imagine this coward saved, dwelling within a few miles of the son whom he had deserted, and yet utterly unable to rescue or even to communicate with him because of the poltroonery of those among whom he had refuged.”
“Well,” grunted Higgs, “I have imagined all that high-faluting lot. What of it? If you mean that you are to blame, I don’t agree with you. You wouldn’t have helped your son by getting your own throat cut, and perhaps his also.”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I have brooded over the thing so long that it seems to me that I have disgraced myself. Well, there came a chance, and I took it. This lady, Walda Nagasta, or Maqueda, who, I think, had also brooded over things, made me an offer—I fancy without the knowledge or consent of her Council. ‘Help me,’ she said, ‘and I will help you. Save my people, and I will try to save your son. I can pay for your services and those of any whom you may bring with you.’
“I answered that it was hopeless, as no one would believe the tale, whereon she drew from her finger the throne-ring or State signet which you have in your pocket, Higgs, saying: ‘My mothers have worn this since the days of Maqueda, Queen of Sheba. If there are learned men among your people they will read her name upon it and know that I speak no lie. Take it as a token, and take also enough of our gold to buy the stuffs whereof you speak, which hide fires that can throw mountains skyward, and the services of skilled and trusty men who are masters of the stuff, two or three of them only, for more cannot be transported across the desert, and come back to save your son and me.’ That’s all the story, Higgs. Will you take the business on, or shall I try elsewhere? You must make up your mind, because I have no time to lose, if I am to get into Mur again before the rains.”
“Got
