if I was an impotent prisoner, absolutely helpless in the power of this outraged Emir--and she was riding with him, alone. . . .
Chapter XIV.
A Second String
That night I was honoured by a visit from the Hadji Abdul Salam, the chief marabout and hakim of this particular tribe, and a man whose immense influence and power seemed disproportionate to his virtues and merits. (One of the things the Occidental mind can never grasp, is the way in which the Oriental mind can divorce Faith from Works, the office from its holder, and yield unstinted veneration to the holy priest, knowing him to be, at the same time, a worthless and scoundrelly man.) . . .
The good Hadji crept silently into my tent, in the dead of night, and very nearly got a bullet through his scheming brain.
Seeing that he was alone and apparently unarmed, I put my pistol under my pillow again, and asked him what he wanted.
The Reverend Father-in-Islam wanted to talk--in whispers--if I would take a most solemn oath to reveal nothing that he said. I was more than ready, and we talked of Cabbages and Kings, and also of Sealing-Wax and Whether Pigs have Wings. . . . And, after a while, we talked of Murder--or rather the Holy One did so. . . . He either trusted my keeping faith with him or knew he could repudiate anything I might say against him later.
I had a touch of fever again, and I was still in the state of mental turmoil natural to one who has just seen the edifice of a life's labour go crashing to the earth, and yet sits rejoicing among the ruins--thanking God for failure; his mind moaning a funeral dirge over the grave of all his hopes and strivings--his heart chanting a pæan of praise and thanksgiving over the saving of his Self. . . .
"Come, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of Kings, How some have been deposed, some sleeping killed,"
I quoted, from Etonian memories of Shakespeare's Richard the Second.
The Reverend Father looked surprised, and said he had a proposal to make.
This was that he should contrive to effect my escape, and that I should return with an army, defeat the Emir, and make the Hadji Abdul Salam ruler in his place.
An alternative idea was suggested by the probable assassination of the Emir by one Suleiman the Strong, "of whom I knew," and who was even now somewhere in the Great Oasis, and had visited the tents of the Holy Hadji!
Would I, on the death of the Emir, help the Hadji to seize the Seat of Power? He could easily poison Suleiman the Strong when he had fulfilled his vengeance--and his usefulness--or denounce him to the Tribe as the murderer of the Emir, and have him impaled alive. . . .
The pious man swore he would be a true and faithful friend to France.
"As you are to your master, the Emir?" I asked.
The Hadji replied that the Emir was a usurper, and that no one owed fealty to a usurper.
Moreover this was positively my only chance, as I was to be put to death shortly. . . . The Emir might then send a deputation to the Governor-General of French Africa, offering to make an alliance on receipt of a subsidy of a million francs and other advantages, and swearing that no emissary of the Governor-General's had ever reached him.
Or he might just let the matter rest--merely keeping the women, killing me, and washing his hands of French affairs, or, rather, declining to dirty his hands with them. . . . Or, of course, Suleiman might get him--and then the Wazir could be eliminated, and the good Hadji, with French support, could become the Emir and the Friend of France. . . .
"Supposing you could enable me to escape," I said when the good Hadji had finished. "I should not do so without the women. Could you effect their escape with me?"
He could not and would not. Here the Holy One spat and quoted the unkind words of the great Arab poet, Imr el Kais:
"One said to me, 'Marry!' I replied, 'I am happy-- Why take to my breast A sackful of serpents? May Allah curse all woman-kind!'"
Two faithful slave-women always slept across the entrance to the anderun, where the girls were. Even if the slaves could be killed silently, it would be impossible to get so big a party away from the place--many camels, much food, girbas of water. . . . No, he could only manage it for me alone.
He could visit me at night and I could leave the tent in his burnous and green turban. . . . He could easily bribe or terrify a certain Arab soldier, now on sentry-go outside, and who was bound to be on duty at my tent again sooner or later. I could simply ride for dear life, with two good camels, and take my chance.
But the women--no. Besides, if it ever came out that he had helped me to escape, it would not be so bad. . . . But as for getting the women away, he simply would not consider it. . . .
No--if I were so extremely anxious about the fate of my two women ("and, Merciful Allah! what are women, that serious men should bother about them?"), the best thing I could do was to consider his firm and generous offer--the heads of the Emir and his Vizier on a charger, and the faithful friendship to France of their successor in power, the Hadji Abdul Salam. . . . The Emir had announced his intention of making the boy-Sheikh not only Sheikh of his Tribe, but eventually Emir of the Confederation also. The Hadji would be the young prince's Spiritual Guide, Tutor, Guardian and Regent--until the time came to cut the lad's throat. . . .
"So Suleiman the Strong is here--and is going to assassinate the Emir, is he?" I said, after we had sat eyeing each other, warily and in silence, for some minutes.
(I must warn the Emir as soon as possible.)
"Yes," replied the Hadji. "And where will you be then, if I am your enemy?"
"Where I am now, I expect," I replied, yawning with a nonchalance wholly affected.
"And your women?" asked the good man.
I ground my teeth, and my fingers itched to seize this scoundrel's throat.
"Take my advice and go," he continued. "Go in the certainty that you will have done what you came for--made an indissoluble and everlasting treaty of alliance between the Franzawi and the Great Confederation, through their real ruler, the Hadji Abdul Salam, Regent for the young Emir after the assassination of the Emir el Hamel el Kebir, impostor and usurper. . . . And if he is not assassinated, no matter--come with an army--and a million francs, of course--kill him, and make the boy nominal Emir. . . . I swear by the Sacred names of God that France shall be as my father and my mother, and I will be France's most obedient child. . . . Go, Sidi, while you can. . . ."
"Get two facts clearly and firmly into your noble mind, Holy One," I replied. "The first is that I do not leave this place without the lady Sitts; and the second is that France has no dealings whatsoever in assassination--nor with assassins!"
Then the reverend gentleman played his trump card.
"You are in even greater danger than you think, Sidi," he murmured, smiling wryly with his mouth and scowling fiercely with his eyes. "And our honourable, gracious and fair-dealing Lord, the Emir el Hamil el Kebir,
