The Talbot Mundy Megapack. Talbot Mundy

trying wine, not speaking again for nearly an hour, until we drew abreast of a chaos of irregular great boulders that partly concealed the mouth of a gorge as dark and ugly as the throat of Tophet.

      “There is your chance!” she said. “Will you take it? You shall have employment with the Lion of Petra! Come!”

      But neither of us answered, and I kept a bright lookout for a pistol she still might have concealed on her; for she had not been searched—there was none who could do that with decency except Ayisha, who was not to be trusted.

      I knew Grim would not halt again before morning because the camels would not feed properly until after daylight, even if you put corn in front of them. We were likely in for a forced march on Petra, and he would not choose to halt twice if it could be helped. And I supposed that when we did halt he would look to Narayan Singh and me for information.

      Yet Mrs. Ali Higg number one was hardly a person you could expect to answer questions truthfully; and even until the stars began to grow pale in the east ahead of us I possessed my soul in patience.

      Then: “Is it money your Sheikh Jimgrim wants?” she asked at last. “Does he hold me to ransom? If so, I will give him a draft on the Bank of Egypt. I have Ali Higg’s seal here, and I write all his letters.”

      I did not answer, but Narayan Singh checked his camel a stride or two to make a signal to me behind her back.

      “Hah!” he remarked with an air of triumph. And I took that to mean that in his judgment Jimgrim could find use for Ali Higg’s seal.

      But of course she heard him, and she took it to mean that she had guessed rightly. She turned to Narayan Singh; and because in that land, as an almost invariable rule, no business with a chief can be accomplished without bribing his minions, she worked off a little spite and offered largesse with the same hand.

      “Arrange good terms for me and you shall have Ayisha.”

      “But I have her,” said Narayan Singh with a great laugh.

      “Maybe. But you haven’t settled yet with Ali Higg. Arrange good terms for my ransom, and I will see that Ali Higg wipes off Ayisha’s score.”

      “We shall see about that; we shall see,” he answered.

      “Yes, yes! You go and see! Go to him now!”

      “When we halt,” the Sikh answered.

      “In an hour it may be too late,” she insisted. “If Ali Higg is prowling and should swoop down on you who would bargain then?”

      By that time it was light enough to see clearly at close range, and Narayan Singh caught my eye behind her back. I nodded. If there were any likelihood of Ali Higg being on the prowl why should she be in such a hurry to make terms?

      Right then Grim called a halt—none too soon for the camels—in a semicircular space protected by a low cliff that might have been a quarry-face two thousand years ago; what might have been a pit was all filled in by drifted sand. But he had his own mat spread on the top of the cliff, whence he could keep an eye on the surrounding country, and gave none of the prisoners a chance to talk to him.

      Nobody helped Jael Higg from her camel, for she jumped down like an acrobat and stood staring about her at Ali Baba’s gang, and being stared at as they went about the business of off-loading the complaining beasts. I saw Ayisha get out of the shibriyah, face around slowly, and meet Jael’s eyes.

      Neither woman spoke for a minute, or made any sign, but you could almost see the alternating current of scorn and hate that passed between them. Then Ayisha fell back on insolence and walked past Jael deliberately, with dark eyes flashing and a thin smile on her lips.

      “So you are now a Pathan’s light o’ love?” Jael sneered in Arabic.

      At that Ayisha turned again and faced her.

“Who speaks? She whom the Lion could not trust to go to Hebron? Um Kulsum!”41

      Ayisha passed on with a scornful shoulder movement. Narayan Singh grinned with malicious amusement. And I was just in time to catch two of the men again attacking my medicine-chest. Instead of trying to open it they were dragging it along the ground, and they were as pleased with themselves as two small dogs caught burying a boot.

      “She has given us money!”

      “Who has?”

      “The lady Ayisha. We are to bring her this, and she will take poison from it and put it in the other woman’s food! So Jimgrimwill be rid of her, and all will be well!”

      I got Narayan Singh to keep his eye on the chest, and walked up to where Grim was going through the form of Moslem prayer, facing Mecca on his mat on the low hilltop. That was for the benefit of the prisoners, no doubt.

      To save time I got down on my knees beside him and went through the same motions, keeping a bright lookout for interruptions and telling him in low tones all that had taken place, repeating conversations word for word as well as I could recall them.

      At last we both squatted, facing each other, and he lighted a cigarette; but it was several minutes yet before he answered.

      “Wants to make terms in a hurry, eh? And has the Lion’s seal with her?” he said at last.

      “Well, as old Ali Baba keeps repeating, Allah makes all things easy! It’s a little soon to talk yet, but I think we’ve got the Lion of Petra on the hip!”

      CHAPTER X

      “There’s No Room for the Two of You!”

      Of course, no committee in the world ever yet did more than cloud an issue with argument. It takes one man to lead the way through any set of circumstances, and the only wise course for a committee is to make that man’s decision unanimous and back it loyally. But men have their rights, as Grim is always the first to admit.

      Ali Baba came and joined us on the cliff-top, and Narayan Singh was not long following suit. The Sikh said nothing, but Ali Baba was conscious of the weight that years should give to his opinion, as well as justly proud of his night’s work, and not at all disposed to sit in silence.

      “Now the right course, Jimgrim, is to make a great circuit and carry these two women back across the British border,” he began at once. “The Lion of Petra will then pay us all large sums of money, without which you will refuse to intercede with the government on his behalf for their return. Thus every one will be satisfied except the Lion, who will be too poor for a long time afterward to have much authority in these parts. Moreover, it will be told for a joke against him, and he will lose in prestige. I am an old man, who knows all about these matters.”

      “What do you think, Narayan Singh?” Grim asked.

      “Sahib, what are we but a flying column? Swiftness and surprise are our two advantages. We should be like a javelin thrown from ambush that seeks out the enemy’s heart. If we fail we are but a lost javelin—an officer, a sepoy, a civilian and a handful of thieves—there are plenty more! If we succeed there is a deed done well and cheaply! I never hunted lions, but I have seen a tiger trapped and beaten. Have we not good bait with us?”

      There followed a hot argument between Arab and Sikh, each accusing the other of ulterior motives as well as ignorance and cowardice; in fact, they acted like any other committee, growing less and less parliamentary as their views diverged. Ali Baba seemed to consider it relevant to call Narayan Singh a drunkard, and the Sikh considered it his duty in the circumstances to refer to Ali Baba’s jail record. In the midst of all that effort to solve the problem at Petra, Grim asked me to go and invite Jael Higg to join us.

      In that hard, uncharitable desert daylight she did not impress me very favorably. The lines of her freckled face suggested too much ruthlessness, as though she was positively handsome in a certain way—as long as you observed the whole effect and did not study details—there was a look of cold experience about her brown eyes that chilled you. Of course, she was tired and