on the eve of the Molid en-Nebi.'
He peered at me triumphantly.
'Surely,' I protested, 'an experienced attar such as Mohammed er-Rahman would readily recognize these secret ingredients by their smell?'
'A great pan of burning charcoal,' whispered Abdul dramatically, 'is placed upon the floor of the room, and throughout the operation the attendant imam casts pungent spices upon it, whereby the nature of the secret essences is rendered unrecognizable. It is time you depart, my son, to the shop of Mohammed, and I will give you a writing making you known to him. Your task will be to carry the materials necessary for the secret operation (which takes place to-night) from the magazine of Mohammed er-Rahman at Shubra, to his shop in the Suk el-Attarin. My eyesight is far from good, Said. Do you write as I direct and I will place my name to the letter.'
II
The words 'well worth your while' had kept time to my steps, or I doubt if I should have survived the odious journey from Shubra. Never can I forget the shape, color, and especially the weight, of the locked chest which was my burden. Old Mohammed er-Rahman had accepted my service on the strength of the letter signed by Abdul, and of course, had failed to recognize in
1 A nuss-faddah equals a quarter of a farthing.
'Said' that Hon. Neville Kernaby who had certain confidential dealings with him a year before.
But exactly how I was to profit by the fortunate accident which had led Abdul to mistake me for someone called 'Said' became more and more obscure as the box grew more and more heavy.
So that by the time that I actually arrived with my burden at the entrance to the Street of the Perfumers, my heart had hardened towards Abdul the Know-all; and, setting my box upon the ground, I seated myself upon it to rest and to imprecate at leisure that silent cause of my present exhaustion.
After a the my troubled spirit grew calmer, as I sat there inhaling the insidious breath of Tonquin musk, the fragrance of attar of roses, the sweetness of Indian spikenard and the stinging pungency of myrrh, opoponax ,and ihlang-ylang. Faintly I could detect the perfume which I have always counted the most exquisite of all save one— that delightful preparation of Jasmine peculiarly Egyptian. But the mystic breath of frankincense and erotic fumes of ambergris alike left me unmoved; for amid these odors, through which it has always seemed to me that that of cedar runs thematically, I sought in vain for any hint of 'Breath of Allah.'
Fashionable Europe and America were well represented as usual in the Suk el-Attarin, but the little shop of Mohammed er-Rahman was quite deserted, although he dealt in the most rare essences of all. Mohammed, however, did not seek Western patronage, nor was there in the heart of the little white-bearded merchant any envy of his seemingly more prosperous neighbors in whose shops New York, London, and Paris smoked amber-scented cigarettes, and whose wares were carried to the uttermost corners of the earth. There is nothing more illusory than the outward seeming of the Eastern merchant. The wealthiest man with whom I was acquainted in the Muski had the aspect of a mendicant; and whilst Mohammed's neighbors sold phials of essence and tiny boxes of pastilles to the patrons of Messrs. Cook, were not the silent caravans following the ancient desert routes laden with great crates of sweet merchandise from the manufactory at Shubra? To the city of Mecca alone Mohammed sent annually perfumes to the value of two thousand pounds sterling; he manufactured three kinds of incense exclusively for the royal house of Persia; and his wares were known from Alexandria to Kashmir, and prized alike in Stambul and Tartary. Well might he watch with tolerant smile the more showy activities of his less fortunate competitors.
The shop of Mohammed er-Rahman was at the end of the street remote from the Hamzawi (Cloth Bazaar), and as I stood up to resume my labors my mood of gloomy abstraction was changed as much by a certain atmosphere of expectancy—I cannot otherwise describe it—as by the familiar smells of the place. I had taken no more than three paces onward into the Suk ere it seemed to me that all business had suddenly become suspended; only the Western element of the throng remained outside whatever influence had claimed the Orientals. Then presently the visitors, also becoming aware of this expectant hush as I had become aware of it, turned almost with one accord, and following the direction of the merchants' glances, gazed up the narrow street towards the Mosque of el-Ashraf.
And here I must chronicle a curious circumstance. Of the Imam Abu Tabah I had seen nothing for several weeks, but at this moment I suddenly found myself thinking of that remarkable man.
Whilst any mention of his name, or nickname—for I could not believe 'Tabah' to be patronymic—amongst the natives led only to pious ejaculations indicative of respectful fear, by the official world he was tacitly disowned. Yet I had indisputable evidence to show that few doors in Cairo, or indeed in all Egypt, were closed to him; he came and went like a phantom. I should never have been surprised, on entering my private apartments at Shepheard's, to have found him seated therein, nor did I question the veracity of a native acquaintance who assured me that he had met the mysterious imam in Aleppo on the same morning that a letter from his partner in Cairo had arrived mentioning a visit by Abu Tabah to el-Azhar. But throughout the native city he was known as the Magician and was very generally regarded as a master of the ginn. Once more depositing my burden upon the ground, then, I gazed with the rest in the direction of the mosque.
It was curious, that moment of perfumed silence, and my imagination, doubtless inspired by the memory of Abu Tabah, was carried back to the days of the great khalifs, which never seem far removed from one in those mediaeval streets. I was transported to the Cairo of Harun al Raschid, and I thought that the Grand Wazir on some mission from Baghdad was visiting the Suk el-Attarin Then, stately through the silent group, came a black-robed, white-turbaned figure outwardly similar to many others in the bazaar, but followed by two tall muffled negroes. So still was the place that I could hear the tap of his ebony stick as he strode along the centre of the street.
At the shop of Mohammed er-Rahman he paused, exchanging a few words with the merchant, then resumed his way, coming down the Suk towards me. His glance met mine, as I stood there beside the box; and, to my amazement, he saluted me with smiling dignity and passed on. Had he, too, mistaken me for Said—or had his all- seeing gaze detected beneath my disguise the features of Neville Kernaby?
As he turned out of the narrow street into the Hamzawi, the commercial uproar was resumed instantly, so that save for this horrible doubt which had set my heart heating with uncomfortable rapidity, by all the evidences now about me his coming might have been a dream.
III
Filled with misgivings, I carried the box along to the shop; but Mohammed er-Rahman's greeting held no hint of suspicion.
'By fleetness of foot thou shalt never win Paradise,' he said.
'Nor by unseemly haste shall I thrust others from the path,' I retorted.
'It is idle to bandy words with any acquaintance of Abdul the Porter's,' sighed Mohammed; 'well do I know it. Take up the box and follow me.'
With a key which he carried attached to a chain about his waist, he unlocked the ancient door which alone divided his shop from the outjutting wall marking a bend in the street. A native shop is usually nothing more than a double cell; but descending three stone steps, I found myself in one of those cellar-like apartments which are not uncommon in this part of Cairo. Windows there were none, if I except a small square opening, high up in one of the walls, which evidently communicated with the narrow courtyard separating Mohammed's establishment from that of his neighbor, but which admitted scanty light and less ventilation. Through this opening I could see what looked like the uplifted shafts of a cart. From one of the rough beams of the rather lofty ceiling a brass lamp hung by chains, and a quantity of primitive chemical paraphernalia littered the place; old-fashioned alembics, mysterious looking jars, and a sort of portable furnace, together with several tripods and a number of large, flat brass pans gave the place the appearance of some old alchemist's den. A rather handsome ebony table, intricately carved and inlaid with mother-o'-pearl and ivory, stood before a cushioned diwan which occupied that side of the room in which was the square window.
'Set the box upon the floor,' directed Mohammed, 'but not with such undue dispatch as to cause thyself to sustain an injury.'
That he had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the box and was now burningly anxious to witness my departure, grew more and more apparent with every word. Therefore—
