II
That was the beginning, then. I cursed to think how short a time was at my disposal; but since, the very next morning, I found myself enjoying a second delicious little stolen interview, I perceived that my company was not unacceptable.
What? oh, I had lost my head entirely; I admit it.
It was an effort to speak of matters ordinary, topics of the ship; my impulse was to whisper delicious nonsense into those tiny ears. However, I forced myself to talk about things in general, and told her that the famous diamond, Lure of Souls, was aboard.
This was news to her, and she seemed to be tremendously interested. Her interest was of such a childish sort, so naïve, that the project grew up in my mind at that very moment—the project that was to terminate so disastrously. It was hardly a matter of so many words; there was nothing definite about the thing at all, and this, our second interview, was cut short in much the same manner as the first.
“Ssh! Mustapha!”
With those whispered words, and a dazzling smile, this jewel of Damascus who interested me so much more deeply than the Rajah’s diamond, departed hurriedly—and I turned to meet again the malignant gaze of the wall-eyed guardian.
The sort of romance in which I was steeped at that time flourishes and grows fat upon incidents of this kind. I have searched my memory many a time since then, for some word or hint to prove that the conversation about the diamond was opened and guided in a desired direction by the lady of the yashmak; but excluding transmission of thought, I could never find any evidence of the kind—have never been able to do so.
Certainly my memories of that period are hazy except in regard to Nahèmah. If I were an artist, I could paint her portrait from memory without the slightest error, I think. She occupied my thoughts to the exclusion of all else. But the project was formed and carried out. Hamilton was one of those popular men who seem born to occupy the chair at any kind of meeting at which they may be present; he organized almost every entertainment that took place on board. At first he was not at all keen on the idea.
“There are all sorts of difficulties,” he said; “and one doesn’t care to ask a favor of a native. At any rate one doesn’t care to be refused.”
But I had set my heart upon gratifying Nahèmah’s curiosity, and, with the aid of Hamilton, it was all arranged satisfactorily. The native guardians of the diamond were rather flattered than otherwise, and a select little party of the “best” people on board met in the chief officer’s cabin to view Lure of Souls.
The difficulty in regard to Nahèmah was readily overcome by Hamilton the energetic, and Dr. Patterson’s wife “took her up” for the occasion in a delightfully patronizing manner. The four swarthy, polite Orientals were there, of course; several other ladies in addition to Mrs. Patterson and Nahèmah, the chief officer, myself, Hamilton, and a sepulchral Scotch curate, the Rev. Mr. Rawlingson, whom I had scarcely noticed hitherto, and whose presence at this “select” gathering rather surprised me.
The sea was like a sheet of glass, and this was the hottest day which I had yet experienced. It was about an hour before lunch-time when we gathered to view the diamond; and Mr. Brodie, the chief officer, exercised his pawky humor in a series of elaborate pantomimic precautions, locking the door with labored care, and treating the ladies of the company to Bluebeard glances of frightful intensity.
Phew! if we had only known!...
Finally one of the Indians took out the diamond from its case—which had been brought from the strong-room a few minutes before. It was a wonderful thing, I suppose, of quite unusual size, and it sparkled and gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the open porthole in an absolutely dazzling fashion. I had ranged myself close beside Nahèmah. Each of us was permitted to handle the stone. It was I who passed it to her, Mr. Rawlingson having passed it to me. She held it in the palm of her little hand, and her eyes sparkled with childish delight as she bent to examine the gem. Then a very strange thing happened.
From somewhere behind me—I was sitting with my back to the porthole—a dull gray object came leaping and twirling; and a scorpion—I have never seen a larger specimen—fell upon Nahèmah’s wrist!
She uttered a piercing cry, dropped the diamond and brushed the horrid insect from her wrist; then fell swooning into my arms....
A scene of incredible confusion followed. The four Indians, ignoring the presence of the scorpion, dropped like cats upon the floor, seeking for Lure of Souls. Mrs. Patterson and I carried Nahèmah to the sofa hard by and laid her upon it. Just as we did so the scorpion darted from between the end of the sofa and the wardrobe, and the chief officer put his foot upon it.
Ensuing events were indescribable. Since the diamond had not yet been picked up, obviously the cabin door could not be unlocked; so in the stuffy atmosphere of the place it was a matter of some difficulty to revive Nahèmah. Meanwhile, four wild-eyed Indians were creeping about amongst our feet—like cats, as I have said before.
In the end, just as the girl began to revive somewhat, it became evident that Lure of Souls was missing. A pearl shirt button, the ownership of which we were unable to establish, was picked up, but no diamond.
The chief officer showed himself a man of priceless tact. He rang for the stewardess, and the ladies were shepherded to a neighboring, vacant cabin. Then the door was relocked, and Mr. Brodie proceeded to strip, placing his garments one by one upon the little folding table for examination. He was not satisfied until every man present had overhauled them. We all followed his example, the Rev. Mr. Rawlingson last of all ... and Lure of Souls was still on the missing list!
Then we gave the chief officer’s cabin such a turnout as it had never had before, I should assume. Our quest was unrewarded. Meanwhile, the ladies had been submitted to a similar search in the adjoining cabin; same result.
With great difficulty we succeeded in hushing up the matter to a certain extent; but the captain’s language to the chief officer was appalling, and the chief officer’s remarks to Hamilton were equally unparliamentary; whilst Hamilton seemed to consider that he was justified in placing the whole blame upon me, which he did in terms little short of insulting. The four Indians apparently regarded all of us with equal suspicion and animosity.
I could not foresee the end. The thing was so sudden, so serious, that at the time it banished even thoughts of Nahèmah from my mind. I anticipated that we should all find ourselves arrested when we reached Port Said.
Later in the day Hamilton walked into my cabin and placed a little cardboard box upon the dressing-table. It contained the crushed body of the scorpion.
“Where did that scorpion come from?” he demanded abruptly.
It was a question which already had been asked fully a thousand times, yet no one had discovered an intelligent reply.
I shook my head.
“It came from the open porthole,” he replied, “and as it’s a thousand to one against a scorpion being aboard, somebody was carrying it for this very purpose—somebody who was on the deck outside the chief officer’s cabin and who threw the scorpion into the cabin.”
“But such a deadly thing....”
“Have a good look,” said Hamilton, turning the insect over with a lead pencil; “this one isn’t deadly at all. See!—his tail has been cut off!”
I looked and stifled an exclamation. It was as Hamilton had said. The scorpion was harmless.
I never once set eyes upon Nahèmah again until we arrived at Port Said. Then I saw her preparing to go ashore in one of the boats. I managed to join her, ignoring the scowls of her one-eyed attendant, and we arrived at the quay together. Right there by the water’s edge a most curious scene was being enacted. Surrounded by two or three passengers and a perfect ring of uniformed officials, Hamilton, very excited, watched his baggage being turned out upon the ground. He saw me approaching.
“Hang it all, Fane,” he cried, “this is disgraceful!—I don’t know upon whose orders they are acting, but the beastly police are searching my baggage for the diamond....”
I thought it very extraordinary and said as much to the Rev. Mr. Rawlingson, who was one of the onlookers.
“It is very strange indeed,” he said mildly, turning his gold-rimmed spectacles in my direction.
A moment later, to my horror and indignation, Nahèmah was submitted to the same indignity! The crowd had been roped off from the part of the quay upon which we stood, and I could see that the whole thing had been arranged beforehand in some way, probably by wireless from the ship. Curiously, as I thought at the time, my own baggage was not examined in this way, but I was detained long enough to lose sight of Nahèmah and her one-eyed guardian. When I got to the hotel I indulged in some reflection. It occurred to me that Hamilton was bound for Colombo, which made it rather singular that he should have had his baggage put ashore at Port Said.
I should have liked to have searched the town for my lady of the yashmak, but having no clue to her present whereabouts, realized the futility of such a proceeding. My last thought before I fell asleep that night was that some day in the near future I should visit Damascus.