About my voyage out I shall say little—for it was much like any ordinary voyage to the East—and of the passengers one only need be mentioned. That one joined the steamer at Marseilles, and became my cabin companion. He was a German, named Kellner, an amusing and pleasant individual, who talked English perfectly, and who, in spite of the fact that he seldom lined up for his morning bath, was tolerably clean. For some considerable time I could not make out what his business was, but at last I discovered that he was a "traveller in glass and china," and was going to Karachi. He interested me a good deal, as he appeared to be thoroughly well educated, and able to discuss almost any topic.
At Karachi I had to remain two days, waiting for the Persian Gulf steamer, and when I embarked again I found, to my astonishment and no little joy, that the only other passenger on board was my friend Kellner. He explained his unexpected reappearance by saying that he had had a telegram from his firm, telling him to go on up the Gulf, as there was a good opening for trade at Bushire and Baghdad. I was delighted at having his companionship, and during the next week our friendship increased considerably, so much so, that when we put in at Bushire, I persuaded him to come on with me to Baghdad, and first do his business there, taking Bushire on his way back. As was only natural, I had talked over my plans with him freely, though I had never divulged the secret of the Girdle, merely telling him that I was going to excavate at Babylon for the British Museum. He was politely interested in all I had to say, but he was not enthusiastic, giving it as his opinion that it would be much more practical to induce the people to take to European goods and forget all about their past history.
At last we got up to Bussorah, went on board the river steamer, and after four or five days on the Tigris, came alongside the wharf at Baghdad. I was duly accredited to the British consul-general, and was met by a kawas, who removed me, bag and baggage, to the Residency at once. Kellner went off with an Armenian gentleman, who, he told me, was agent for the firm for which he was travelling, and we parted with many expressions of regret that our long voyage was at an end.
The Consul-General had, I found, received a despatch from the Foreign Office about me, instructing him to assist me in every possible way, and he was kindness itself. I soon decided that there could be no possible harm in my telling him the object of my journey; in fact, I came to the conclusion that it was absolutely necessary. He said that I would have a most exciting hunt, and that he himself would have liked to have accompanied me, but unfortunately he could not leave Baghdad for some time. The Residency surgeon, who had only been in the country about eighteen months, wanted to visit Babylon, and it was soon settled that he should go with me—an arrangement that pleased me immensely, as George Edwards was a man of the world, with a delightful personality. It took a few days to get things in order: the firman from the Turkish Government examined and signed by the governor; servants and horses engaged, and an escort of mounted zaptiehs provided.
At length everything was ready, and, the evening before our departure, I overhauled all the papers in my despatch-box, in order to refresh my memory. I had studied them thoroughly on the voyage out, and knew their contents almost by heart. I had even gone to the length of making a précis of everything in a note-book. I thought it advisable, however, to have a final look through the papers, as I did not wish to encumber myself with the heavy despatch-box, which I had arranged to leave with the Consul-General. On opening the box I found, to my surprise, all the papers in a state of confusion—confusion which could not have arisen from the box having been turned upside down, because I always kept the papers, which were docketed and tied up in order, in their proper places, by filling up the box with two thick books. The books I now found nearly at the bottom of the box, and the bundles of papers were all untied and thoroughly mixed up. Someone had tampered with the box; there was not a doubt of it. I hastily checked off the papers with the inventory in my note-book, and, to my dismay, discovered that one was missing. I went over everything again—the missing document contained a carefully-drawn plan of the ruins of Babylon, with instructions as to the best method of attempting to locate the burial-place of the Girdle. It was, to my mind, the most important paper in the box; but its loss was not irreparable, as I had fortunately made copious notes from it, and possessed a duplicate plan. Nevertheless, it was most annoying to find that someone had been turning over my papers, and I mentioned the matter to my host at dinner that night.
"What sort of lock have you got on the box?" he asked.
"A Brahma," I replied, "and the key is on my watch-chain."
"Have you ever left your watch lying about?"
"Never; I have always been most particular about it."
Then I remembered that the day I went on shore at Muskat, I had left my watch in my cabin. I remembered the fact, because when I visited Jelali Fort, the governor showed me his watch, and I put my hand in my pocket to take out mine, wishing to explain the advantages of a repeater, but discovered that I had left it behind.