Pharos, The Egyptian: A Romance

The mention of his ward's name decided me, and, with a recklessness that forces a sigh from me now, I gave my promise to accompany them.

"I am very glad to hear it," said Pharos. "I think you have decided wisely. We shall sail to-morrow evening at ten o'clock. My servants will call for your luggage and will convey it and you on board. You need not trouble yourself in any way."

I thanked him, and then, finding that it was close upon eleven o'clock, took leave of him. That I was disappointed in not being permitted an opportunity of saying farewell to his ward I will not deny. I feared that she was offended with me for not having taken her advice earlier in the evening. I did not mention the matter, however, to Pharos, but bade him good-night, and, declining his offer to send me home in his carriage, made my way into the hall and presently left the house. Having crossed the courtyard, the ancient gate-keeper passed me out through a small door beside the gates. The night was exceedingly warm, and as I stepped into the street the moon was rising above the opposite house-tops. Having made inquiries from Pharos, I had no doubt of being able to make my way back to my hotel. Accordingly, as soon as I had rewarded the concierge, and the gate had closed behind me, I set off down the pavement at a brisk pace. I had not gone very far, however, before a door opened in a garden wall, and a black figure stole forth and addressed me by my name. It was the Fräulein Valerie.

"Mr. Forrester," she said, "I have come at great risk to meet you. You would not listen to me this evening, but I implore you to do so now. If you do not heed me and take my warning it may be too late."

The moon shone full and fair upon her face, revealing her wonderful beauty and adding an ethereal charm to it which I had never noticed it possessed before.

"Of what is it you would warn me, my dear lady?" I asked.

"I can not tell you," she answered, "for I do not know myself. But of this I am certain, since he has interested himself in you and has declared his desire for your friendship, it can not be for your good. You do not know him as I do. You have no idea, it is impossible you should, of what he is. For your own sake, Mr. Forrester, draw back while you have time. Have no more to do with him. Shun his society, whatever it casts you. You smile! Ah, if you only knew! I tell you this – it would be better, far better, for you to die than to fall into his power."

I was touched by the earnestness with which she spoke, but more by the sadness of her face.

"Fräulein," I said, "you speak as if you had done that yourself."

"I have," she answered. "I am in his power, and, as a result, I am lost body and soul. It is for that reason I would save you. Take warning by what I have said and leave Naples to-night. Never mind where you go – go to Russia, to America, bury yourself in the wilds of Siberia or Kamchatka – but get beyond his reach."

"It is too late," I answered. "The die is cast, for I have promised to sail with him to Egypt to-morrow."

On hearing this she uttered a little cry and took a step away from me.

"You have promised to visit Egypt with him?" she cried, as if she could scarcely believe she heard aright. "Oh! Mr. Forrester, what can you be thinking of? I tell you it is fatal, suicidal! If you have any regard for your own safety you will get away to-night, this very moment, and never return to Naples or see him again."

In her agitation she clutched at my arm and held it tightly. I could feel that she was trembling violently. Her touch, however, instead of effecting the purpose she had in view, decided me on a contrary course.

"Fräulein," I said in a voice I should not at any other time have recognised as my own, "you tell me that this man has you in his power? You warn me of the dangers I run by permitting myself to associate with him, and, having risked so much for me, you expect me to go away and leave you to his mercy. I fear you must have a very poor opinion of me."

"I am only trying to save you," she answered. "The first day I saw you I read disaster in your face, and from that moment I desired to prevent it."

"But if you are so unhappy, why do you not attempt to save yourself?" I asked. "Come, I will make a bargain with you. If I am to fly from this man, you must do so too. Let us set off this moment. You are beyond the walls now. Will you trust yourself to me? There is a steamer in the harbour sailing at midnight. Let us board her and sail for Genoa, thence anywhere you please. I have money, and I give you my word of honour as a gentleman that I will leave nothing undone to promote your safety and your happiness. Let us start at once and in half an hour we shall be rid of him forever."

As I said this I took her arm and endeavoured to lead her down the pavement, but she would not move.

"No, no," she said in a frightened whisper. "You do not know what you are asking of me. Such a thing is impossible – hopelessly impossible. However much I may desire to do so I can not escape. I am chained to him for life by a bond that is stronger than fetters of steel. I can not leave him. O God! I can not leave him!"

She fell back against the wall and once more covered her face with her hands, while her slender frame shook with convulsive sobs.

"So be it then," I said; and as I did so I took off my hat. "If you will not leave him, I swear before God I will not go alone! It is settled, and I sail with him for Egypt to-morrow."

She did not attempt to dissuade me further, but, making her way to the door in the wall through which she had entered the street, opened it and disappeared within. I heard the bolts pushed to, and then I was in the street alone.

"The die is cast," I said to myself. "Whether good or evil, I accompany her to-morrow, and, once with her, I will not leave her until I am certain that she no longer requires my help."

Then I resumed my walk to my hotel.

CHAPTER VIII

The clocks of the city had struck ten on the following evening when I left the carriage which Pharos had sent to convey me to the harbour, and, escorted by his servant, the same who had sat beside the coachman on the occasion of our drive home from Pompeii on the previous evening, made my way down the landing-stage and took my place in the boat which was waiting to carry me to the yacht.

Throughout the day I had seen nothing either of Pharos or his ward, nor had I heard anything from the former save a message to the effect that he had made arrangements for my getting on board. But if I had not seen them I had at least thought about them – so much so, indeed, that I had scarcely closed my eyes all night. And the more attention I bestowed upon them the more difficult I found it to account for the curious warning I had received from the Fräulein Valerie. What the danger was which threatened me it was beyond my power to tell. I endeavoured to puzzle it out, but in vain. Had it not been for that scene on the Embankment, and his treatment of me in my own studio, to say nothing of the suspicions I had erroneously entertained against him in respect of the murder of the curiosity dealer, I should in all probability have attributed it to a mere womanly superstition which, although it appeared genuine enough to her, had no sort of foundation in fact. Knowing, however, what I did, I could see that it behooved me, if only for the sake of my own safety, to be more than cautious, and when I boarded the yacht I did so with a full determination to keep my eyes wide open, and to be prepared for trouble whenever or in whatever shape it might come.

On gaining the deck I was received by an elderly individual whom I afterward discovered to be the captain. He informed me in French that both Monsieur Pharos and the Fräulein Valerie had already arrived on board and had retired to their cabins. The former had given instructions that everything possible was to be done to promote my comfort, and, having said this, the captain surrendered me to the charge of the servant who had escorted me on board, and, bowing reverentially to me, made some excuse about seeing the yacht under way and went forward. At the request of the steward I passed along the deck to the after-companion ladder, and thence to the saloon below. The evidence of wealth I had had before me in the house in Naples had prepared me in some measure for the magnificent vessel in which I now found myself; nevertheless, I must confess to feeling astonished at the luxury I saw displayed on every side. The saloon must have been upward of thirty feet long by eighteen wide, and one glance round it showed me that the decorations, the carpet, and the furniture, were the best that taste and money could procure. With noiseless footfall the steward conducted me across the saloon, and, opening a door on the port side, introduced me to my cabin.

My luggage had preceded me, and, as it was now close upon eleven o'clock, I determined to turn in and, if possible, get to sleep before the vessel started.

When I woke in the morning we were at sea. Brilliant sunshine streamed in through the porthole and danced on the white and gold panelling of the cabin. Smart seas rattled against the hull and set the little craft rolling till I began to think it was as well I was a good sailor, otherwise I should scarcely have looked forward with such interest to the breakfast I could hear preparing in the saloon outside.

As soon as I had dressed I made my way to the deck. It was a lovely morning, a bright blue sky overhead, with a few snow-white clouds away to the southwest to afford relief and to add to the beauty of the picture. A smart sea was running, and more than once I had to make a bolt for the companion-ladder in order to escape the spray which came whistling over the bulwarks.

In the daylight the yacht looked bigger than she had done on the previous night. At a rough guess she scarcely could have been less than four hundred tons. Her captain, so I afterward discovered, was a Greek, but of what nationality her crew were composed I was permitted no opportunity of judging. One thing is very certain – they were not English, nor did their behaviour realise my notion of the typical sailor. There was none of that good-humoured chaff or horseplay which is supposed to characterise the calling. These men, for the most part, were middle-aged, taciturn and gloomy fellows, who did their work with automaton-like regularity, but without interest or apparent good-will. The officers, with the exception of the captain, I had not yet seen.

Punctually on the stroke of eight bells a steward emerged from the companion and came aft to inform me that breakfast was served. I inquired if my host and hostess were in the saloon, but was informed that Pharos made it a rule never to rise before midday, and that on this occasion the Fräulein Valerie intended taking the meal in her own cabin and begged me to excuse her. Accordingly, I sat down alone, and when I had finished returned to the deck and lit a cigar. The sea by this time had moderated somewhat and the vessel in consequence was making better progress. For upward of half an hour I tramped the deck religiously and then returned to my favourite position aft. Leaning my elbows on the rail, I stood gazing at the curdling wake, watching the beautiful blending of white and green created by the screw.

I was still occupied in this fashion when I heard my name spoken, and, turning, found the Fräulein Valerie standing before me. She was dressed in some dark material, which not only suited her complexion but displayed the exquisite outline of her figure to perfection.

"Good-morning, Mr. Forrester," she said, holding out her white hand to me. "I must apologise to you for my rudeness in not having joined you at breakfast; but I was tired and did not feel equal to getting up so early."

There was a troubled look in her eyes which told me that while she had not forgotten our interview of two nights before, she was determined not to refer to it in any way or even to permit me to suppose that she remembered it. I accordingly resolved to follow her example, though, if the truth must be confessed, there were certain questions I was more than desirous of putting to her.

"Since you are on deck the first morning out, I presume you are fond of the sea?" I said, in a matter-of-fact voice, after we had been standing together for some moments.

"I love it," she answered fervently; "and the more so because I am a good sailor. In the old days, when my father was alive, I was never happier than when we were at sea, away from land and all its attendant troubles."

She paused, and I saw her eyes fill with tears. In a few moments, however, she recovered her composure and began to talk of the various countries with which we were mutually acquainted. As it soon transpired, she had visited almost every capital in Europe since she had been with Pharos, but for what purpose I could not discover. The most eastern side of Russia and the most western counties of England were equally well known to her. In an unguarded moment I asked her which city she preferred.

"Is it possible I could have any preference?" she asked, almost reproachfully. "If you were condemned to imprisonment for life, do you think it would matter to you what colour your captors painted your cell, or of what material the wall was composed that you looked upon through your barred windows? Such is my case. My freedom is gone, and for that reason I take no sort of interest in the places to which my gaoler leads me."

To this speech I offered no reply, nor could I see that one was needed. We were standing upon dangerous ground and I hastened to get off it as soon as possible. I fear, however, I must have gone clumsily to work, for she noticed my endeavour and smiled a little bitterly, I thought. Then, making some excuse, she left me and returned below.

It was well past midday before Pharos put in an appearance. Whether at sea or ashore he made no difference in his costume. He wore the same heavy coat and curious cap that I remembered seeing that night at Cleopatra's Needle.

"I fear, my dear Forrester," he said, "you will think me a discourteous host for not having remained on deck last night to receive you. My age, however, must be my excuse. I trust you have been made comfortable?"

"The greatest Sybarite could scarcely desire to be more comfortable," I answered. "I congratulate you upon your vessel and her appointments."

"Yes," he answered, looking along the deck, "she is a good little craft, and, as you may suppose, exceedingly useful to me at times."

As he said this a curious expression came into his face. It was as if the memory of an occasion on which this vessel had carried him beyond the reach of pursuit had suddenly occurred to him. Exquisite, however, as the pleasure it afforded him seemed to be, I can not say that it pleased me as much. It revived unpleasant memories, and just at the time when I was beginning to forget my first distrust of him.

After a few moments' further conversation he expressed a desire to show me the vessel, an invitation which, needless to say, I accepted with alacrity. We first visited the smoking-room on deck, then the bridge, after that the engine-room, and later on the men's quarters forward. Retracing our steps aft we descended to the saloon, upon the beauty of which I warmly congratulated him.

"I am rejoiced that it meets with your approval," he said gravely. "It is usually admired. And now, having seen all this, perhaps it would interest you to inspect the quarters of the owner."

This was exactly what I desired to do, for from a man's sleeping quarters it is often possible to obtain some clue as to his real character.

Bidding me follow him, he led me along the saloon to a cabin at the farther end. With the remembrance of all I had seen in the other parts of the vessel still fresh in my mind, I was prepared to find the owner's berth replete with every luxury. My surprise may therefore be imagined when I discovered a tiny cabin, scarcely half the size of that occupied by myself, not only devoid of luxury, but lacking much of what is usually considered absolutely necessary. On the starboard side was the bunk, a plain wooden affair, in which were neatly folded several pairs of coarse woollen blankets. Against the bulwark was the wash-hand-stand, and under the port a settee, covered with a fur rug, on which was curled up the monkey Pehtes. That was all. Nay, I am wrong – it was not all. For in a corner, carefully secured so that the movement of the vessel should not cause it to fall, was no less a thing than the mummy Pharos had stolen from me, and which was the first and foremost cause of my being where I was. From what he had told me of his errand I had surmised it might be on board; but I confess I scarcely expected to find it in the owner's cabin. With the sight of it the recollection of my studio rose before my eyes, and not only of the studio, but of that terrible night when the old man now standing beside me had called upon me and had used such diabolical means to obtain possession of the thing he wanted. In reality it was scarcely a week since Lady Medenham's "at home"; but the gulf that separated the man I was then from the man I was now seemed one of centuries.