The Treasure of the Tigris: A Tale of Mesopotamia

by A. F. Mockler-Ferryman

"Well," said Edwards, "I will tell you all about it. I was sleeping peacefully, when my boy rushed up on to the roof, and nearly upset my bed in his eagerness to wake me. He told me a garbled tale, about two men having come to the door; that one of the men was dead, and that the other man said that the dead man was an Ingleezee whom he had found in the river. So I bolted down, and heard what the old Arab had to say, and then I overhauled you, and you can imagine my astonishment when I eventually discovered who you were. You had been reported as drowned weeks before, we had had courts of inquiry about it all; and had wired and written home to your people. The whole thing was a mystery, especially when I learned that the boatman had found you miles above Baghdad, and you were supposed to have been drowned on the way down to Bussorah. However, as I found that you were not actually dead, I had you carried indoors, and we soon took your clothes off. Then I came across the gold belt, and I knew that you had been at that desperate game again; so I sent off to the Consul-General, asking him to come round as quickly as possible. He nearly had a fit, and it was a long time before he could believe his eyes. After a bit, he went off with the belt and your boatman, and having investigated the matter thoroughly, paid the old man the thirty kerans which he said you had promised him, and gave him another five as bakhshish."

"He deserved every penny of it," said I; "for, if it had not been for him, I should never have seen Baghdad again."

"There you are right," said Edwards. "You ran things about as close as possible, and you may thank your stars that you tumbled across the fisherman when you did."

The next matter of interest which Edwards related to me was the fate of the unfortunate Kellner. I had told him what I had heard from Daud about his death, but I was surprised to hear that Edwards himself had been with Kellner when he died. Just after I was supposed to have been drowned, the Turkish Governor at Hillah had sent word to say that the German in his hospital was thought to be dying, and that he had expressed a wish to see me or Edwards, or both of us if possible. The Consul-General sent Edwards off to Hillah at once, with a small escort, and when he reached the place, he found Kellner still alive, though in a state of collapse. He lived, however, for another three days, during which time Edwards remained with him continuously, and received from his lips his dying confession—for by no other name can it be called. It was a wretched story, and I was really sorry for the poor fellow. As far as daring and pluck went, if anyone deserved to succeed, he certainly did; but, of course, he had been ill-advised.

From what he told Edwards—and he was most anxious to tell him all—it seems that he was in the employ of a South African millionaire, who was a great collector, and who, in some way, had got possession of my uncle's secret. Kellner, much to his credit, refused to tell the name of his employer, but he made a clean breast of everything else. As I had imagined when I came across him at the Birs Nimroud, he had been put on to my track from the very beginning, and, when I thought of it all, I was astounded at the cunning of the man. In one way and another he had got an immense amount of information out of me during the voyage, and before we reached Baghdad he had made himself acquainted with the contents of all my papers. In one matter I was greatly interested: Kellner and I had jumped together at the document relating to Shahzadi's shoe; but he had an advantage over me, in that his employer had given him instructions to seek out the Jew Mersina, take him into his confidence, make him his agent, and promise him a large reward. Money was to be no object; the Girdle was to be obtained at any cost.

Kellner found Yusuf Mersina the very man for his purpose, a man with a rapid brain, who weighed the pros and cons of everything carefully, and who, having once formed his plans, never hesitated. Now, the Jew had spies and friends all over the country, and as soon as he heard of the paper about Shahzadi's shoe, and the defunct Munshi of Kerbela, he decided to take Kellner to that town, and see what could be discovered there. They were in Kerbela some days before Edwards and I had started from Baghdad; and Mersina went straight to the Hindu astrologer, whom Daud subsequently consulted. Mersina was an old client, and always paid well for information and advice, so the astrologer received him with open arms. He did not, however, altogether like having anything to do with the Golden Girdle, the history of which was well known to him; but, after a time, he confessed that he knew where it was, though, as the secret was his own and his alone, it would require much money to purchase it. In the end, terms were agreed upon: a goodly sum down, and a still larger sum if the Girdle were secured. Kellner was astonished to hear that it was no longer buried, but, as Mersina told him that the astrologer never lied, he was forced to believe what he said.

The next step was to open up communications with the Seer of Katib, who, according to the astrologer, possessed the Girdle. He himself had had a quarrel with the seer, and could not, therefore, communicate with him; but there happened to be in Kerbela at that time a Bedouin sheik, who, if paid adequately, would doubtless be able to obtain the Girdle. This sheik was the Shammar Abbas-ibn-Mirshid, and Kellner and Mersina were soon introduced to him. After matters had been satisfactorily arranged, Mersina returned to Baghdad, and Kellner became the guest of Abbas, accompanying him to his temporary camp near Babil. Kellner now confided in Abbas, and told him about me, and how important it was that I should be balked in my attempt to obtain the Girdle, explaining that he thought it quite possible that I might know that Raspul had it. Abbas decided to watch the Baghdad road and to check my progress, but as Kellner refused to allow him to do me any bodily harm, he contented himself with the theft of my money, under the impression that that would be sufficient to delay me. Why he did not wait to see the result Kellner did not say, but, apparently, they thought it best to get away in the direction of the ruins of Katib as quickly as possible.

What happened after this I knew, or had guessed correctly. Raspul had agreed to sell the Girdle to Abbas for two thousand kerans, and to bring it to a certain place at a certain time. But Faris upset all their plans by overwhelming the Shammar and killing Abbas. All this Edwards and I had heard from Daud, and Kellner threw very little fresh light on the events that followed. He maintained, however, that when he rode away with the Girdle, he was unaccountable for his actions. He was under the delusion that the Shammar intended to murder him, and when he found himself pursued, he felt bound to defend himself with his revolver. The terrible privations that he underwent from that time until he found himself at the Birs Nimroud put all my own experiences in the shade, and, as I listened to Edwards, I could not help wondering why my luck should have been so good and Kellner's so bad. It would appear that he never heard that Mersina had played him false, and he fully imagined that the Birs Nimroud Jews had taken the Girdle to Mersina, who was to retain it until he arrived to claim it. In proof of this he gave Edwards a note to convey to Mersina, whom he instructed to hand over the Girdle, on payment of a certain sum, for conveyance to the British Museum. He expressed many regrets that I had been drowned, and it pained him to think that I had not lived to receive his apologies for the way in which he had treated me.

The pathos of the story made a great impression on me, and I grieved at the thought that Kellner's end had been such a sad one. But Edwards quite restored my spirits by describing how, for a time, armed with Kellner's note, he had sought Mersina, in the full expectation of acquiring the Girdle, and of taking it home to my uncle.

"You see," said he, laughing, "I could have made a very good story out of all our adventures in pursuit of it, and everyone would have thought that I was no end of a hero."