Brood of the Witch-Queen, Sax Rohmer [books to read for beginners txt] 📗
- Author: Sax Rohmer
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“Bats!” ejaculated Robert Cairn.
“Yes. There is a small colony of bats in this pyramid, of course; but the bat does not hunt in bands, and the sight of these bats flying out from the place was one which Ali Mohammed had never witnessed before. Their concerted squeaking was very clearly audible. He could not believe that it was this which had awakened him, and which had awakened the ten or twelve workmen who also slept in the camp, for these were now clustering around him, and all looking up at the side of the pyramid.
“Fayûm nights are strangely still. Except for the jackals and the village dogs, and some other sounds to which one grows accustomed, there is nothing—absolutely nothing—audible.
“In this stillness, then, the flapping of the bat regiment made quite a disturbance overhead. Some of the men were only half awake, but most, of them were badly frightened. And now they began to compare notes, with the result that they determined upon the exact nature of the sound which had aroused them. It seemed almost certain that this had been a dreadful scream—the scream of a woman in the last agony.”
He paused, looking from Dr. Cairn to his son, with a singular expression upon his habitually immobile face.
“Go on,” said Robert Cairn.
Slowly Sime resumed:
“The bats had begun to disperse in various directions, but the panic which had seized upon the camp does not seem to have dispersed so readily. Ali Mohammed confesses that he himself felt almost afraid—a remarkable admission for a man of his class to make. Picture these fellows, then, standing looking at one another, and very frequently up at the opening in the side of the pyramid. Then the smell began to reach their nostrils—the smell which completed the panic, and which led to the abandonment of the camp—”
“The smell—what kind of smell?” jerked Robert Cairn.
Dr. Cairn turned himself in his chair, looking fully at his son.
“The smell of Hades, boy!” he said grimly, and turned away again.
“Naturally,” continued Sime, “I can give you no particulars on the point, but it must have been something very fearful to have affected the Egyptian native! There was no breeze, but it swept down upon them, this poisonous smell, as though borne by a hot wind.”
“Was it actually hot?”
“I cannot say. But Ali Mohammed is positive that it came from the opening in the pyramid. It was not apparently in disgust, but in sheer, stark horror, that the whole crowd of them turned tail and ran. They never stopped and never looked back until they came to Rekka on the railway.”
A short silence followed. Then:
“That was last night?” questioned Cairn.
His father nodded.
“The man came in by the first train from Wasta,” he said, “and we have not a moment to spare!”
Sime stared at him.
“I don’t understand—”
“I have a mission,” said Dr. Cairn quietly. “It is to run to earth, to stamp out, as I would stamp out a pestilence, a certain thing—I cannot call it a man—Antony Ferrara. I believe, Sime, that you are at one with me in this matter?”
Sime drummed his fingers upon the table, frowning thoughtfully, and looking from one to the other of his companions under his lowered brows.
“With my own eyes,” he said, “I have seen something of this secret drama which has brought you, Dr. Cairn, to Egypt; and, up to a point, I agree with you regarding Antony Ferrara. You have lost all trace of him?”
“Since leaving Port Said,” said Dr. Cairn, “I have seen and heard nothing of him; but Lady Lashmore, who was an intimate—and an innocent victim, God help her—of Ferrara in London, after staying at the Semiramis in Cairo for one day, departed. Where did she go?”
“What has Lady Lashmore to do with the matter?” asked Sime.
“If what I fear be true—” replied Dr. Cairn. “But I anticipate. At the moment it is enough for me that, unless my information be at fault, Lady Lashmore yesterday left Cairo by the Luxor train at 8:30.”
Robert Cairn looked in a puzzled way at his father.
“What do you suspect, sir?” he said.
“I suspect that she went no further than Wasta,” replied Dr. Cairn.
“Still I do not understand,” declared Sime.
“You may understand later,” was the answer. “We must not waste a moment. You Egyptologists think that Egypt has little or nothing to teach you; the Pyramid of Méydûm lost interest directly you learnt that apparently it contained no treasure. How little you know what it really contained, Sime! Mariette did not suspect; Sir Gaston Maspero does not suspect! The late Sir Michael Ferrara and I once camped by the Pyramid of Méydûm, as you have camped there, and we made a discovery—”
“Well?” said Sime, with growing interest.
“It is a point upon which my lips are sealed, but—do you believe in black magic?”
“I am not altogether sure that I do—”
“Very well; you are entitled to your opinion. But although you appear to be ignorant of the fact, the Pyramid of Méydûm was formerly one of the strongholds—the second greatest in all the land of the Nile—of Ancient Egyptian sorcery! I pray heaven I may be wrong, but in the disappearance of Lady Lashmore, and in the story of Ali Mohammed, I see a dreadful possibility. Ring for a timetable. We have not a moment to waste!”
XVIII The BatsRekka was a mile behind.
“It will take us fully an hour yet,” said Dr. Cairn, “to reach the pyramid, although it appears so near.”
Indeed, in the violet dusk, the great mastabah Pyramid of Méydûm seemed already to loom above them, although it was quite four miles away. The narrow path along which they trotted their donkeys ran through the fertile lowlands of the Fayûm.
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