2
'What was it?' I exclaimed.
Whilst the cry had not resembled any of the many with which I was acquainted in that land where the vendor of dates, of lemonade, of water, of a score of commodities has each his separate song, yet, though weird, it was not in itself definitely horrible.
Petrie turned, and:
'Something I haven't heard for ten years,' he replied-- and I saw with concern that he had grown pale--'which I had hoped never to hear again. '
'What? '
'The signal used by a certain group of fanatics of Burma loosely known as dacoits. '
'Dacoits? But Dacoity in Burma has been dead for a generation!'
Petrie laughed.
I made that very statement twelve years ago,' he said. 'It was untrue then, it is untrue now. Yet there isn't a soul in the courtyard.'
And suddenly I realized that he was badly shaken. He was not the type of man who was readily unnerved, and I confess that the incident--trivial though otherwise it might have seemed--impressed me unpleasantly.
'Please God I am mistaken,' he went on, walking back to his chair. 'I must have been mistaken.'
But that he was not, suddenly became manifest. The door opened and a woman came in, or rather--ran in.
I had heard men at the club rave about Dr. Petrie's wife, but the self-chosen seclu- sion of her life was such that up to this present moment I had never set eyes on her. I realized now that all I had heard was short of the truth. It is fortunate that modem man is unaffected by the Troy complex; for she was, I think, quite the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I shall not attempt to describe her, for I could only fail; but, seeing that she had not even noticed my existence, I wondered, as men will sometimes wonder, by what mystic chains Dr. Petrie held this unre- ally lovely creature.
She ran to him and he threw his arms about her.
'You heard it!' she whispered. 'You heard it! '
'I know what you are thinking, dear,' he said. 'Yes, I heard it; but after all it isn't possible.'
He looked across at me, and suddenly his wife seemed to realise my presence.
'This is Mr. Shan Greville,' Petrie went on, 'who brings me very sad news about our old friend, Sir Lionel Barton. I didn't mean you to know, yet. But--'
Mrs. Petrie conquered her fears and came forward to greet me.
'You are very welcome,' she said.
She spoke English with a faint fascinating accent.
'But your news--do you mean--?'
I nodded.
Into the beautiful eyes watching me I saw the strangest expression creeping. It was questioning, doubting; fearful, analytical. And suddenly Mrs. Petrie turned from me to her husband, and:
'How did it happen?' she asked.
As she spoke the words, I thought she seemed to be listening.
Briefly, Dr. Petrie repeated what I had told him, concluding by handing his wife the mysterious telegram.
'If I may interrupt for a moment,' I said, taking out of my pocket-case, 'Sir Lionel must have written this at the moment of his fatal seizure. You see--it tails off. It was scrib- bled on the block which lay beside him. It was what brought me to Cairo.'
I handed the pencilled message to Petrie. His wife bent over him as he read aloud, slowly:
'Not dead... Get Petrie... Cairo... amber... inject...'
She was facing me as he read--her husband could not see her face; but he saw the telegram slip from her fingers to the carpet.
'Kara!' he cried. 'My dear! What is it?'
Her wonderful eyes, widely opened, were staring past me through the window out into the courtyard; and:
'He is alive!' she whispered. 'Oh God! He is alive!'
I wondered if she referred to Sir Lionel; when suddenly she turned to Petrie, clutching the lapels of his coat and speaking eagerly, fearfully.
'Surely you understand? You must under- stand. That cry in the garden, and now--this! It is the Living Death! It is the Living Death! He knew before it claimed him. 'Amber-- inject.'' She shook Petrie with a sudden passionate violence. 'Think!... The flask is in your safe.'
And, watching Petrie's face, I realized that what had been unintelligible to me, to him had brought light.
'Merciful heavens!' he cried, and now I saw positive horror leap to his eyes. 'I can't believe it--I won't believe it.'
He stared at me, a man distracted; and: 'Sir Lionel believed it,' his wife said. 'He wrote it. This is what he means.'
And now I remembered those hideous oblique eyes which had looked in at me during my journey. I remembered the man in the car who had passed me at Shepheard's. Dacoits! Bands of Burmese robbers! I had thought of them as scattered. Apparently they were associated--a sort of guild. Sir Lionel knew the Far East almost better than he knew the Near East. So, suddenly I spoke--or rather I cried the words aloud:
'Do you mean, Mrs. Petrie, that you think he's been murdered?'
Dr. Petrie interrupted, and his reply silenced me.
'It's worse than that,' he said.
If I had come to Cairo bearing a burden of sorrow, I thought, looking from the face of my host to the beautiful face of his wife, that my story had brought their happy world tumbling about them in dust.
3
The train to Luxor was full, but I had taken the precaution of booking accommoda- tion before leaving the station. And, as I was later to leam, I had been watched.
I was frankly out of my depth. That Petrie was deeply concerned for his wife, who seemed now to be the victim of a mysterious terror, he was quite unable to conceal. The object locked in the safe referred to by Mrs. Petrie proved to be a glass flask sealed with wax and containing a very small quantity of what might, from its appearance, have been brandy. However, the doctor packed it up with the greatest care and placed it in his professional bag before leaving.
This, together with the feverish state of excitement into which I seemed to have thrown his household, was sufficiently mysti- fying. Coming on top of a tragedy and a sleepless night, it was almost the last straw.
Petrie explored the train as though he expected to find Satan in person on board.
'Are you looking for my cross-eyed man?' I asked.
'I am,' he returned grimly.
And somehow, as his steady glance met mine, it occurred to me that he was hoping, and not fearing, to see the oblique-eyed spy. It dawned upon me that his fears were for his wife, left behind in Cairo, rather than for us. What in heaven's name was it all about? However, I was too far gone to pursue these reflections, and long before the atten- dant had come to make the bed I fell fast asleep.
I was awakened by Dr. Petrie.
'I prescribe dinner,' he said.
Feeling peculiarly cheap, I managed to make myself sufficiently presentable for the dining car, and presently sat down facing my friend, of whom I had heard so much and whom the chief had evidently regarded as a safe harbour in a storm.
A cocktail got me properly awake again and enabled me to define where troubled dreams left off and reality began. Petrie was regarding me with an expression compounded of professional sympathy and personal curiosity;
