Long and earnestly did he then speak, and he gave us a full explanation for his having carried us off from Ali Khan's camp. There were three reasons. The first was, as Daud had told us, in order to deceive Ali Khan, and so prevent him from having a cause of everlasting feud with the Shammar tribesmen. As matters stood, it was his hope that Ali Khan would think that Edwards and I had released the three prisoners, and had assisted in the theft of the five horses, for them and ourselves to ride. The second reason was that the sheik knew that Daud was ill and might require the attention of a doctor; he knew that one of us was a doctor, but being uncertain which, had thought it advisable to bring both of us. But the third reason was the most important, and doubtless the real cause of our having been kidnapped.
"From my friend Daud," continued the sheik, "I have learned much information concerning you. From him also you have learned many things, and you know of your mysterious fellow-countryman, as well as of his evil deeds. You know also of the gold belt which he has with him, and for which he promised to pay 5000 kerans. But of more recent events neither you nor Daud have heard."
Then he related how he and his men had come to know that the "ill-born Ingleezee," as he styled him, had taken refuge with two Jews who lived in a hovel close to the Birs Nimroud—the reputed Tower of Babel, a few miles from Hillah. These Jews had always been firm friends of the Shammar, and had helped them out of many difficulties, and for that reason they felt bound to respect the person of the man who had become the dakhil, or protected guest, of the Jews. They were thus cheated of their revenge, and the blood feud was at an end. Yet, there was now a hope that the Ingleezee, who was very ill, would be induced to pay them the money for the belt; in fact, he had told the Jews that he would do so, if he should recover sufficiently to reach Baghdad. The long and the short of it was that Edwards was to go and treat the man, so that the Shammar might get their 5000 kerans. We were, we were told, barely twenty-five miles from the spot, and it was proposed that we should rest the next day, starting on the journey at nightfall. We willingly agreed to undertake the work, for we were naturally inquisitive as to the strange individual of whom we had heard such queer tales. Moreover, I saw before me a chance of striking a bargain for the Golden Girdle. I was prepared to pay the Shammar what had been promised, and to give the mysterious foreigner something for himself in addition. I built palatial castles in the air, and continued to build them until long after our host had brought his visit to a close. The Serpent Belt of Sophana lay within measurable distance of my grasp. Two days hence it might be actually mine. Before the week had ended, Edwards and I might be back in Baghdad, when a wire to my uncle announcing my success would make the name of Walter Henderson famous, if not in the world, at any rate in the British Museum. My mother had often told me how, when I was quite a small boy, she had been present, at the Albert Hall, at the reception given to the great Stanley, on his return from the Emin Pasha expedition; and how the Prince of Wales and all London were there to do him honour. I trembled to think what was in store for me. Would I also have to face tier above tier of London society? Would I have to deliver an address, and relate all my experiences? Undoubtedly all these things would happen, and more besides. I should, of course, be commanded to a private audience of the King at Buckingham Palace, so that he might inspect the Girdle, before others had seen it. Then I thought of the endless dinners of various learned societies in London, whereat I should be the guest of the evening. I began to wonder if I could stand it all; or if it would not be better to seek the post of commander-in-chief to Ali Khan, when he should be reinstated at Adiba.
So I dreamed on far into the night, and the sleep that followed was unbroken for many hours of the following day.
At dusk we prepared for our new journey, and our friend Daud himself brought us our horses, smiling as he told us that the chief presented them to us. I was given the horse that I had ridden to the ruins of Katib with Faris, while Faris's own horse was bestowed on Edwards.
"Little did you think," remarked Daud to me, "that you would ever ride this horse again."
"We never know," said I, "what is written in our fate."
"True," said he; "Allah alone knows."