Flying Legion

  CHAPTER XLIV

  INTO THE JEWEL-CRYPT

  It was time some exit should be discovered. The tumult had notablyincreased, at the barred entrance. The staples could not hold, muchlonger.

  The Legionaries pressed forward. At the far end of the chamber,another door was indeed visible; smaller than the first, low, almostsquare, and let into a deep recess in the elaborately carved wall ofgold.

  Barefooted, in their socks, or some still in slippers, they reachedthis door. A little silence fell on them, as they inspected it.One man coughed, spitting blood. Another wheezed, with painfulrespiration. The smell of sweat and blood sickened the air.

  "That's some door, all right!" judged Bohannan, peering at its darkwood, heavily banded with iron. "Faith, but they've got a padlock onthat, big enough to hold the Pearly Gates!"

  "It is only a question, now, of the key," put in Leclair, with Frenchprecision.

  "Faith, _here's_ a trap!" the Irishman continued. "A trap, for you!And thirteen rats in it! Lucky, eh?"

  "In Jananti Shahr," the memory of a sentence flashed to the Master,"we do not anoint rats' heads with jasmine oil!" But all he said was:"Light, here! Bring lamps!"

  Three Legionaries obeyed. The flare of the crude wicks, up along thedoor, showed its tremendous solidity.

  "A little of our explosive would do this business," the Masterdeclared. "But it's obvious nothing short of that would have mucheffect. I think, men, we'll make our stand right here.

  "If we put out all lights, we'll have the attackers at a disadvantage.We can account for fifty or more, before they close in. And--'CaptainAlden,' sir! Where are you going? Back, here!"

  The woman gave no heed. She was half-way to the entrance door, roundthe edges of which already torch-light had begun to glimmer as theattackers strained it from its hinges.

  Amazed, the Legionaries stared. The Master started after her. Now shewas on her knees beside one of the dead Maghrabis--the one killedby Janina. She found nothing; turned to the other; uttered a cry ofexultation and held up a clumsy key.

  Back over the floor of gold she ran. Her fingers held a crimson cord,from which the key dangled.

  "Those two--they were guardians of this vault, of course!" she cried."Here is the key!"

  A cheer burst from the Legionaries. The Master clutched the key,pressed forward to the inner door. A terrible intensity of emotionseized all the survivors, as he fitted the key to the ponderous lock.

  "God!" the Irishman grunted, as the wards slid back. The padlockclattered to the floor. The hasp fell. In swung the door.

  Through it pressed the Legionaries, with lamps swinging, pistols inhand. As the last of them entered, the outer door collapsed with abursting clangor. Lights gleamed; a white-robed tumult of raging menburst through. Shots crackled; yells echoed; and the sound of manysandaled feet, furiously running, filled the outer chamber with soundsof ominous import.

  "_Ah, sacres cochons!_" shouted Leclair, emptying his pistol at thepursuers. The Master thrust him back. The door clanged shut; downdropped another bar.

  Bohannan laughed madly. The fighting-blood was leaping in his veins.

  "Oh, the grand fight!" he shouted. "God, the grand old fight!"

  Confused voices, crying out in Arabic, wheeled the Master from thedoor.

  This inner chamber, very much smaller than the outer, was well lightedby still more lamps, though here all were of chased silver.

  At the far end, four dim figures were visible. Black faces peered inwonder. The Legionaries caught sight of giant simitars, of flutteringwhite robes as the figures advanced.

  "By Allah!" a hoarse shout echoed. "Look, Mustapha! The Feringi!"

  In the shadows at the other end, the amazed Maghrabi swordsmenhesitated one precious moment. White-rimmed eyes stared, teeth gleamedthrough distorted lips.

  These gigantic _mudirs_, or Keepers of the Treasure, had expected theopening of the door to show them the Feringi, indeed, but preceded byBara Miyan and surrounded by men of Jannati Shahr.

  Now they beheld the dogs of unbelievers all alone, there, with guns inhands, with every sign of battle. They had heard sounds of war,from without. Their dull minds, slowly reacting, could not grasp thesignificance of all this.

  "The Feringi, Yusuf," cried another voice. "And they are alone! Whatmeaneth this?"

  "_M'adri_" (I know not), ejaculated still another. "But _kill--kill_!"

  Their attack was hopeless, but its bravery ranked perfect. Theirshouting charge down the chamber, sabers high, ended in gruntingsprawls of white. Not half-naked like the low-caste Maghrabi outside,but clad in Arab fashion, they lay there, with Legionaries' bullets inbreast and brain.

  The Master smiled, grimly, as he walked to one of the bodies andstirred it with his naked foot. He swung above it a silver lamp he hadpulled down from the wonderfully arabesqued wall.

  "Four scimitars added to our equipment will be useful, at closequarters," he opined very coolly, unmindful of the dull uproar nowbattering at the inner door. "Pick up the cutlery, men, and don'tforget the admirable qualities of the _arme blanche_!"

  Himself, he took one of the long, curved blades. The major, Leclair,and Ferrara--an expert swordsman he had been, in the Italianarmy--possessed themselves of the others.

  Bohannan whistled his scimitar through the air.

  "Very fine I call it!" he exclaimed, with a joyful laugh. "Some littlegame of tag, what? And our Moslem friends are still 'it!' We're stillahead!"

  "And likely to be, till our friends bring powder, mine that door, andblow it in!" The Master added: "We've still a few minutes--maybe more.Now, then--"

  A shrill cry in French, from Lebon, drew all eyes away to the left ofthe small chamber.

  "_Voila_!" the lieutenant's orderly was vociferating. They saw hisdistorted, torture-broken hand wildly gesticulating toward the floor."My Lieutenant, behold!"

  "In the name of God, what now?" Leclair demanded, scimitar in hand.The silver lamps struck high-lights from that gleaming blade, as heturned toward his orderly. Never had he seen the man seized and shakenby excitement as at this moment. "What hast thou found, Lebon? What?"

  "But behold--behold!" choked the orderly. Articulation failed him. Hestammered into unintelligible cries. The Legionaries crowded towardhim. And in the dumb stupefaction that overcame them, the roaringtumult at the door was all forgotten. The sentence of death hangingabove them, faded to nothing.

  Even the Master's cold blood leaped and thrilled, at realization ofwhat he was now beholding as the silver lamps swung from out-stretchedhands. Bohannan, for once, was too dazed for exuberance.

  Only the Master could find words.

  "Well, men," said he, in even tones. "Here it is, at last. We'reseeing something no Feringi ever saw before--the hidden treasure ofJannati Shahr!"