“I say, Doctor,” said Higgs to me excitedly, “do you know that we have got all the best of the treasure of the Tomb of Kings in those five-and-twenty crates? I have thought since that I was crazy when I packed them, picking out the most valuable and rare articles with such care, and filling in the cracks with ring money and small curiosities, but now I see it was the inspiration of genius. My subliminal self knew what was going to happen, and was on the job, that’s all. Oh, if only we can get it safe away, I shall not have played Daniel and been nearly starved to death for nothing. Why, I’d go through it all again for that golden head alone. Shove on, shove on, before they change their minds; it seems too good to be true.”
Just then a rotten egg thrown by some sweet Abati youth landed full on the bridge of his nose, and dispersing itself into his mouth and over his smoked spectacles, cut short the Professor’s eloquence, or rather changed its tenor. So absurd was the sight that in spite of myself I burst out laughing, and with that laugh felt my heart grow lighter, as though our clouds of trouble were lifting at length.
At the mouth of the pass we found Joshua himself waiting for us, clad in all his finery and chain armour, and looking more like a porpoise on horseback than he had ever done.
“Farewell, Gentiles,” he said, bowing to us in mockery, “we wish you a quick journey to Sheol, or wherever such swine as you may go. Listen, you Orme. I have a message for you from the Walda Nagasta. It is that she is sorry she could not ask you to stop for her nuptial feast, which she would have done had she not been sure that, if you stayed, the people would have cut your throat, and she did not wish the holy soil of Mur to be defiled with your dog’s blood. Also she bids me say that she hopes that your stay here will have taught you a lesson, and that in future you will not believe that every woman who makes use of you for her own ends is therefore a victim of your charms. To-morrow night and the night after, I pray you think of our happiness and drink a cup of wine to the Walda Nagasta and her husband. Come, will you not wish me joy, O Gentile?”
Orme turned white as a sheet and gazed at him steadily. Then a strange look came into his grey eyes, almost a look of inspiration.
“Prince Joshua,” he said in a very quiet voice, “who knows what may happen before the sun rises thrice on Mur? All things that begin well do not end well, as I have learned, and as you also may live to learn. At least, soon or late, your day of reckoning must come, and you, too, may be betrayed as I have been. Rather should you ask me to forgive your soul the insults that in your hour of triumph you have not been ashamed to heap upon one who is powerless to avenge them,” and he urged his camel past him.
As we followed I saw Joshua’s face turn as pale as Oliver’s had done, and his great round eyes protrude themselves like those of a fish.
“What does he mean?” said the prince to his companions. “Pray God he is not a prophet of evil. Even now I have a mind—no, let him go. To break my marriage vow might bring bad luck upon me. Let him go!” and he glared after Oliver with fear and hatred written on his coarse features.
That was the last we ever saw of Joshua, uncle of Maqueda, and first prince among the Abati.
Down the pass we went and through the various gates of the fortifications, which were thrown open as we came and closed behind us. We did not linger on that journey. Why should we when our guards were anxious to be rid of us and we of them? Indeed, so soon as the last gate was behind us, either from fear of the Fung or because they were in a hurry to return to share in the festivities of the approaching marriage, suddenly the Abati wheeled round, bade us farewell with a parting curse, and left us to our own devices.