CHAPTER IX
A ROLL OF PAPYRUS
“I tried to tell him, sir, that it was not right that he should comein,” the polite waiter apologized to the Colonel, Mary’s father. “Isaid it is not convenient, it is not allowed, but he would come.”
“It’s all right, Pierre,” the Colonel spoke quietly. “What is it youwish?” He turned to the Arab.
“Oh! Sir, if you knew.” The Arab spoke English without a flaw. “You areinterested in Egypt, all her past,—”
“Yes, yes, I know, but—”
“It is this.” The man drew something from beneath his robe. Both Sparkyand Ramsey half rose in their places, then settled back for, the Arab’sfingers, long and thin, held what appeared to be a roll of paper.
Taking the roll, the Colonel removed the outer layer of green paper, ofa peculiar tint, then examined the dull, gray roll beneath.
“Is it papyrus?” he asked.
“Yes, Colonel,” came in a whisper. “From an ancient tomb. It is, Ibelieve, three thousand years old.”
The Colonel made no reply. Instead he took from his pocket a small,powerful magnifying glass.
Mary, who was watching the Arab, saw a sudden look of fear pass overhis face. It was little more than a flitting shadow, yet she was torecall it in the days to come.
“Yes,” said the Colonel after a minute examination of the roll, “it ispapyrus. Beyond a doubt it is quite old. And I suppose you want to sellit?”
“Oh, no! No! No!” The man’s face was twisted into a look of terror. “Itis not for me to sell. I must send it to Dr. Spinka. He is a greatEgyptologist. His home is in America.”
“But I am not returning to America. Perhaps I shall never return.”
“Ah, yes, but the young lady—” The Arab leaned forward, hiding theroll under his long robe. “She is but a visitor. Is it not so? She willreturn very soon. Is this not true?”
“Perhaps.” The Colonel spoke slowly. “What do you say, Mary? Will youaccept the responsibility?”
“No!” was the quick response. “How could I? Even my own life is notsafe. Only today—”
“Ah! Yes, it is true,” the Arab broke in, “today, yes, but themiserable wretch who threatened your life is dead.”
“What? How did you find this out?” Sparky demanded.
“Not so loud, my friend,” the Arab spoke in a hoarse whisper, at thesame time completely covering the roll. “There are those who would killme for having this roll.”
“They would kill me as quickly,” Mary declared.
“Ah, but they shall not know. It shall be at your Chateau one minutebefore you go. You fly to Persia. I do not ask, I know. I shall notspeak. I am always to be trusted. In Persia they do not care forpapyrus. There you are safe. Wherever you go, you are safe.”
Mary looked to her father for the answer to this strange problem. Whathe said puzzled her more than a little.
“There is no reason why you should not take this with you. At my houseand the airport you will have ample protection.
“You, of course, must take the risk of its being destroyed by thefortunes of war.” He spoke to the Arab.
“It shall be in the hands of God and a lady,” was the reply. “If Godwills its destruction, I shall bare my head. As for the lady, I trusther.”
“It is then so arranged.” The Colonel re-wrapped the roll. “The rollmust be in my hands at midnight.”
“But, sir, the plane does not—”
The Colonel held up a hand. “None but God is permitted to know the hourof departure. Midnight—how do you say?”
“It is the will of God.” The Arab was gone.
The two hours that followed will linger long in Mary’s memory. “I neverdreamed of anything like this when I volunteered for this trip,” shesaid to Captain Ramsey, as they swung away for the dance.
“You expected only blood, sweat, and tears,” he replied soberly.
“Something like that.”
“That’s mostly what war is like. But there must be change and contrast,laughter, music and the lighter touch or we break and then we’re nogood.”
Music, laughter, and the lighter touch, that was what they had duringthe next swiftly passing hours. The dances were all waltzes. Thestrange, fantastic orchestra—Mary could not name half theinstruments—played very well. There was a wild ecstasy running throughit all. The shrill pipe of reed instruments, the tom-tom-tom of strangedrums at times set her blood tingling. Then, too, there were moments ofquiet, swinging rhythm that set her dreaming.
The people too were interesting, intriguing. Dark-eyed, Egyptian women;slender, young French officers; smiling, little French ladies withfaces like dolls; imperial dames from the British Isles—all theseswung past her and on out of sight.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_The Quiet, Swinging Rhythm Set Her Dreaming_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
She danced with Ramsey, with her father, and with nice British andAmerican boys to whom she was introduced.
“This,” she said to Ramsey, “is the sort of life I used to love.”
“But not now?” he asked.
“For tonight—yes—tonight it is divine.”
“But not for tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow. Even now I find my hands reaching for the controls, myfingers itching for the feel of the switches, and my ears listening forthe roar of the motors.”
“It gets in your blood. I know. What’s it going to be after it’s allover?”
“We’ll know when it is all over, if we’re still around to know. Let’shave tonight for tonight.”
“And tomorrow for tomorrow.”
The music ceased. That dance was over. It was announced that theorchestra would play two selections that were not dances.
“We sit these out. Come on!” He led her by the hand. “There’s a spotbefore the fountain where we can sit and watch the pyramid.”
“Does it need watching?” she asked with a laugh.
“It seems not.” His tone was sober as he helped her to a seat beneaththe stars. “I like to watch it all the same. Sometime I expect it tospeak to me.”
“Speak to you?”
“Yes, why not? Surely it’s stood there in silence long enough. Look,”he leaned close to her, “did you ever think what that great pile ofstone over there stands for?”
“No—I—”
“Of course not. You haven’t watched it night after night as I have. Itstands for power. That’s what. The power one man wielded over thousandsand thousands of others. Think of the weary years toiled cutting thosestones with primitive tools and getting them up, up, up toward the sky.”
“What for?”
“Because some man wanted to be remembered after he was dead. They didremember, but only to curse him. We have our monuments today,skyscrapers, museums, places for fishes to live in, homes for mummiesand stuffed elephants. They have been built by men who wanted to beremembered. But the people who pay for them are the little people whohave made machines, sold goods, and all that for a little pay, and whowere left to finish their lives as best they could when they were tooold to work any more. That is what the pyramid will say to me somemoonlit night.”
“And what shall you do about it?”
“Probably nothing, just as other generations have done. But see here!”he sprang to his feet. “This was to be a night!”
“Of music, laughter and the lighter touch.” She supplied the words.“Well, there’s the music. Isn’t it lovely?”
When it was over and they were sauntering back toward the dance floorhe said:
“I’m to be up there with you over the Arabian Desert tomorrow. Rommel’sdesert rats have a hidden base somewhere out there. We lose a plane nowand then, never get a trace of it. It seems your father doesn’t wantyou to get lost.”
“I think you’re righ
t.”
“There will be three other escorting planes in the squad. They will allbe double seaters. I’ll be in a single-seater, a regular blue devil ofa fighting plane.”
“So I’ll be able to recognize you. How grand!” she enthused. “You shallbe my knight in shining armor.”
“Sure, it’s like going back to ancient days, when fair ladies and richtreasure in coaches were guarded on their way by armored knights onhorseback.”
“Swift steeds you ride now,” she laughed.
“Real enough for all that. The lady is real, too, and the treasure,never forget that.”
“I shall not forget.”
“Have you any notion what the treasure is?”
“Not the slightest. All we know, Sparky and I, is that it is of thegreatest importance to China and that it must go through.”
“Here we are,” he said, helping her up the steps. “One more dance.”
“One more and that’s all,” she agreed. “I must have my beauty nap, fortomorrow I am a working woman again.”
A short time later they said good-night to the Colonel who assured themhe was leaving at once. Then he drove her home in his car.
“It’s been the most delightful evening of my life,” she declared.
“It’s the contrast,” was his reply. “Today you were in great danger.”She had told him of her adventure with the spy. “Tonight you have beensafe with the right kind of people and quite happy.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Who knows? I shall be with you in the Arabian skies. That much isdecided. The rest is chance.”
He went with her to the door of the chateau. Then, gripping her hand hewhispered: “Just something to remember.”
She did not refuse. A moment later, a little flushed and quite happy,she was in her own room preparing for a few winks of sleep.
She was just putting on the night robe that had been left for her whenher father entered the chateau.
“Have a good time?” he asked.
“Best ever.”
“That’s splendid! I wish you were to be here a week.”
“I don’t,” was the quick reply. “I love duty, and, I’m ashamed to sayit, danger. But, Dad, I don’t see this papyrus business. Why should Itake that roll to America?”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“It might be dangerous.”
“There’s scarcely a chance. In the first place, I know that Arab. Heseems an honorable old man. In the second, I shall place your overnightbag in your plane the moment before you start—”
“And the roll will be in that bag?”
“Exactly. Once you are in the air, the roll cannot possibly get youinto trouble. When you arrive at your destination there is not a chancein a thousand that anyone there will know about that papyrus—or anypapyrus, for that matter.
“So you see—” he went on, “you will be aiding this aged Arab and, atthe same time, adding a little to our American collection of Egyptianlore. Some rare discoveries have been made by those who delve into themysteries of the messages recorded thousands of years ago.”
“Perhaps this tells of some war fought and won on these very grounds,”she suggested.
“Here is a card,” he said, handing her a square of cardboard. “On it Ihave written the address of my old professor of Egyptology. I suggestthat you show the roll to him before you deliver it to this DoctorSpinka—”
“Why?”
“Well,” he hesitated, “in these times we must be very careful. There isan off chance that an enemy spy is working through this Arab to turn asharp trick on us.”
“And if that is true, your professor will discover it?”
“He and his colleagues.”
“Okay—good-night, Dad. You’ll call me?”
“You’ll be at the airport on time, with a good cup of coffee andtoasted English muffins under your belt.”
The off chance is sometimes the real chance, also the wisest of mensometimes make mistakes. It is also true that the game is neither wonnor lost until the last card is played. The roll of papyrus went aboardMary’s plane as planned and was promptly forgotten.
------------------------------------------------------------------------