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<h2>CHAPTER XXII. THE DRAGOMAN’S INSPIRATION.</h2> They left the train at the station opposite Fedah, and the dragoman secured a native to row them in his skiff across the river. Consinor asked no questions and appeared wholly indifferent as to their destination. Indeed, his life had been so aimless since his disgraceful flight from Cairo that he welcomed any diversion that might relieve its dull monotony. When they arrived at Fedah, Tadros took him secretly to the hut of old Nefert, the bread-baker, which was directly across the street from the dwelling of Hatatcha, now owned by Kāra. The viscount was inclined to resent the filthiness of the hovel wherein he must hide, until the dragoman led him to the shade of the opposite archway and explained to him something of the project he had in mind. Tadros began by relating the “royal one’s” early history, emphasizing the fact that old Hatatcha had been able to support herself and Kāra without any labor whatever. Then he told of Hatatcha’s death, and how he, Tadros, had discovered the valuable rolls of papyrus in Kāra’s possession. From thence to the brilliant advent of the “prince” in Cairo was but a step, and the entire history permitted but one explanation—the fact{248} that Kāra had knowledge of an ancient tomb containing great riches. “Once,” said the dragoman, “Kāra and I made a visit to Fedah; but I did not suspect his errand and so neglected to watch him, being at the time greatly occupied with a certain maiden. In the morning I found he had loaded his traveling cases with treasures—wonderful gems that have enabled him to live in princely fashion ever since.” “Where did he get them?” asked Consinor, eagerly. “As I said, from some hidden tomb, the secret of which is known only to himself.” “Do you think he has carried all of the treasure away?” “I have reason to believe that more remains than has ever been taken. Once, in an unguarded moment, Kāra told me that he could not spend it all in a thousand years.” “Do you suppose we can discover this tomb?” “Yes, if we are clever. It is no use to hunt without a clew, but Kāra will furnish us the clew we need.” “In what way?” the viscount inquired. “He is coming here presently.” Consinor frowned. “I do not care to meet him,” he said, hastily. “Nor do I,” rejoined Tadros, with a shudder; “but it will not be necessary for us to meet Kāra, who will not suspect we are in the village.” “What then?”{249} “He is coming to secure more treasure, his former supply being exhausted, as I have reason to know. He has promised his tradesmen money, and will not dare delay his visit to Fedah. Besides, he is not far from here at this very moment. By to-morrow, if he comes in Winston Bey’s dahabeah, he will reach this place. If he decides to take a railway train, he may be here this evening.” “In that case, what do you propose to do?” demanded Consinor. “Spy upon him; discover where the treasure is hidden, and when he is gone, help ourselves,” was the confident reply. The idea seemed quite feasible when further elaborated. They entered the room of Kāra’s dwelling and examined the place carefully. “This,” explained the dragoman, “is doubtless his starting-point. From here he has either a secret passage into the mountain, or he steals away to the desert, where the entrance to the tomb is hidden underneath the shifting sands. We must be prepared to watch him in either event, and that is why I have proposed to you to assist me, rather than try to secure all the fortune myself. I am assured there is plenty for two, and to spare.” “Doubtless,” replied the viscount, laconically. Already he saw visions of great wealth, which would enable him to return to London and rise superior to all the sneers and scandals that had been thrust upon him.{250} They discussed the matter long and earnestly, the few inhabitants of the village, stupid and inert, being entirely ignorant of their presence. It was finally decided that on Kāra’s approach Consinor should conceal himself beneath the dried rushes of the old bed, Tadros so arranging his position that the viscount could observe every action of one moving within the room. Then the dragoman would himself lurk at the edge of the village to follow Kāra if he stole away into the desert. As a matter of fact, Tadros was firm in his belief that the treasure was hidden within the mountain; but he had no intention of risking his own life when he could induce Consinor to become his catspaw. Discovery meant death—he knew that well enough. It was better not to take chances, and if the viscount succeeded in learning Kāra’s secret it would mean the same to Tadros as learning it himself. He knew how to handle this outcast Englishman, and if the treasure proved as large as he suspected, he could afford to be generous, and would play fair with his accomplice. Otherwise—but that could be considered later. Tadros did not desire to expose the stranger to the curious gaze of the villagers, but there was no harm in their knowing that the dragoman had come among his old friends once more; so he insisted that Consinor should stay concealed in Nefert’s hovel, flying to a dark corner at the sound of every footstep, while he himself visited Sĕra and her daughter in furtherance of his sagacious plans.{251} <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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