Under the Rebel's Reign Part 14

"Yes, and the providential way we have been brought together astonishes me still more," answered his companion. "Let us turn down here, it will take us out of the town; we have plenty of time. I don't suppose either of us will have much opportunity for pleasure after this. I say, isn't Dr. Dixon a brick?"

"Rather! I only wish I was going to see more of him."

They had turned into a quiet street, which rapidly brought them to the outskirts of the town. The houses on either side stood right up to the pavement, and appeared to be of the better cla.s.s. This portion of Port Said was much more picturesque than the parts of Cairo and Alexandria to which our hero was used, and he remarked upon it.

As they neared the end of the street, an Arab turned into it, from one of the many bye-ways, and came quickly towards them. He was a picturesque-looking man, dressed in his native garb. His dusky polished skin shone in the evening light, and he hurried along with a light, easy, swaying stride, his every movement displaying the athletic qualities that his robes tended to hide. As he approached the two friends, his watchful black eyes glanced quickly up and down the street, and then, apparently satisfied with what he saw, rested with a keen, penetrating look upon Helmar.

Without slackening his pace for a moment, or giving the least indication of his intention, he suddenly held out his hand and a piece of paper fluttered at our hero's feet, and the fellow pa.s.sed swiftly on.

The whole thing was done so suddenly, that neither of the friends had time to say a word before the man had pa.s.sed; and when, after picking up the paper, they looked round for him, he had disappeared as quickly as he had come.

George gazed at his companion, holding the missive in his hand, and burst out laughing.

"What a queer chap! If it weren't that he touched me as he pa.s.sed, and I felt that he was flesh and blood, I should be inclined to think he was a ghost. I wonder what he is up to?"

"Examine the paper. Doubtless that will enlighten us," said the practical Osterberg. "If I'm not mistaken, this is some game, in which we are wanted to partic.i.p.ate."

George examined the paper, turning it over and over wonderingly. It was a dirty envelope, of the cheaper kind, sealed down and addressed to him.

"The mystery deepens. It's from some one who knows me, evidently.

The writing seems familiar, too. I wonder----"

"Confound it, man, open it!" broke in his impatient companion. "You are right about the handwriting. It _is_ familiar."

Helmar tore the envelope open, and examined the contents. It was a brief note, signed by Mark Arden.

The two read the contents eagerly.

"Dear George,

"I have just found out you are in the town. For certain reasons, I cannot meet you in public; but, if you will meet me at the last Mosque outside the town, on the lake's edge (any one can direct you), in half-an-hour, I shall be glad to return you the money I borrowed at Varna.

"Yours ever,

"Mark."

As they finished reading this extraordinary epistle, the two young men silently looked at one another. Osterberg was the first to break the silence.

"Well, of all the unadulterated cheek I ever heard of, this beats everything! I suppose he's going to pay you out of what he stole from the barracks. What are you going to do about it?"

Helmar looked long at the paper before replying. He was trying to find out what lay hidden under these lines. Somehow, he could not bring himself to believe in their genuineness. There was a deeply suspicious air about the whole thing, not the least being the delivery of the note. At last he appeared to make up his mind.

"We'll see it through. If there is any trickery, I dare say we can hold our own. Will you come?"

"Rather!" cried his friend. "But have we time?"

Helmar looked at his watch. It still wanted two hours to the time he must be aboard the transport, and he had no doubt the quay could be reached in time.

"Oh, yes, heaps of time! We'd better find out where this particular Mosque is. We'll ask the first person we meet."

At this moment an elderly Arab came along from behind, as if in answer to his expressed intention, and Helmar stopped him, and inquired the way. The old fellow grinned, showing a row of perfect white teeth, which, in a man of his apparent years, astonished the companions.

"It is not far," he said, in a peculiar, grating voice, "and I am going that way myself. It will take but a few minutes."

Osterberg looked inquiringly at George.

"All right, come along. You lead the way, old man," said Helmar, "and we will follow."

Helmar slipped his hand in his coat pocket to make sure his revolver was there, and, having satisfied himself on the point, hurried along behind the Arab, talking and laughing with his friend, as if he had not the slightest doubt but that everything was fair and above-board.

The limit of the town was reached, and they pa.s.sed along the sandy road until they came to some gardens. Here they turned off, and soon found themselves in a lonely, obscure sort of disused brick-field surrounded by some tumble-down hovels. At this spot their guide suddenly stopped.

"That is the Mosque, in the distance," he said, and without waiting for reply, hurried off at a pace that belied his age.

"I believe there's some trickery," said Osterberg. "I half wish we hadn't come. What's to be done?"

"That old man has brought us to this spot for a purpose," said Helmar. "Why didn't he leave us at the gardens?" A dark look came into his eyes as he spoke. "Well, we'll give Mr. Mark ten minutes to turn up," he went on. "After that, we'll go."

The two young men stood for a minute or two, kicking their heels about, and, at last, Osterberg got so impatient that he suddenly burst out----

"Come on, don't let us wait here, let us get back to the quay. This is some beastly hoax. The place is as silent as the grave--it gives me the creeps."

"I said we would give him ten minutes, and we will do so," said George, determinedly. "I'm not going until the time has elapsed.

Hallo!" as he caught sight of a figure approaching, "here comes somebody. Perhaps it's Mark."

His surmise proved correct. Mark came quickly up, and held out his hand. He was dressed in Egyptian costume, and with his dark complexion and black eyes might easily have pa.s.sed as a native.

"Ah! Helmar, and you, Osterberg!" he said. "I am glad to see you."

Then, as neither took the proffered hand, he drew back. "Why, what's up? Aren't you going to shake hands?"

"You said in your note," exclaimed our hero, impatiently, "that you wanted to return the money you owe me. Where is it?"

"Ah, that's it!" answered Mark, with apparent relief. "Well, if you'll come into this house I'll give it you. Oh, it's all right!"

as Helmar did not offer to move, "there's not a soul about besides ourselves. Come along."

"But why can't you pay me here? I have no time to fool about, and must get back to the quay in time to catch the boat."

"I know--at least, that is--all right," said Mark, seeing that he had made a mistake. "But you don't understand. This is where I have to live."

"Since you robbed those who helped you here, eh?" said George, contemptuously.

"I see you have heard of that, then," replied Mark, with a smile.

"But really I had no intention of stealing, I only borrowed it as I borrowed it from you, and am equally as ready to return it as I am yours."

"Why don't you do so, then?" said Helmar, a little mollified at the man's open words. "Look here, Mark, I don't want to say hard things, but if you're not a knave you are a fool, and the sooner you pull yourself together and live a decent life, the better!"

"Oh, don't preach, Helmar!" cried Arden impatiently. "Allow me to do as I think fit. Now, will you come and get that money, or must I, on account of some silly notion of yours, go and fetch it? Of course, if you will not, then----"