Which, taking it by and large, may be accepted as a true statement of fact.
Now, it is commonly said of novelists and magazines that a man in the first transports of requited love feels forgiveness for all his enemies; nay, the hero, in the magnanimity caused by owning the earth and the seven heavens, all too frequently sends his deadliest foe packing with the confident trust that he, the foe, will go and sin no more.
That makes good Sabbath-day reading, but it makes nothing else. A man strong enough to have a great enemy may be strong enough to forgive that enemy, but it is much more likely that he is not, has no desire to be, and would not if he could.
Cyrus Hammer expressed himself to this effect at breakfast the next morning. Sara Helmuth was still sleeping, and he and Solomon, with Omar and the two Afghans, discussed the probable future of Dr. Sigurd Krausz, archaeologist.
"He's dangerous," declared Hammer with decision. "I'd say, send out all the men after him, John, and if he comes willingly, then all right. If not, fetch him, anyway. The poor devil must be in bad shape, what with that nose of his; but after yesterday I'll be blessed if I'm not set on giving him the limit!"
Solomon looked at the Afghans. Akhbar Khan exchanged glances with his cousin, and the two men rose, bowed in a silent salaam, and stalked off with their rifles under their arms.
Solomon looked at Omar, and the Arab's teeth flashed out as he followed. And so, for the present, Hammer forgot his enemy, for Sara Helmuth had emerged from the other tent and now joined them.
"There's summat as Mr. 'Ammer don't know about yet," remarked Solomon complacently as the girl sipped her coffee, and she flashed a smile at him. Save for the circles about her eyes, sleep had removed all traces of her weariness. "When so be as you're ready, miss, we might 'ave a look at it."
"Very well," she nodded, then her eyes steadied. "But first, John, I want it thoroughly understood that I waive all claim to it. By right it belongs to you and to Hammer—by right of suffering and toil and——"
"What is it you're talking about?" demanded the American, frowning.
"The treasure," she said, and explained. As she had rightly told Krausz, that part of the treasure which contained the papers, relics, and gifts from the Viceroy to the King of Portugal, had been placed in the pit of snakes, and in all likelihood would have remained there had not Solomon been forced to descend, and so discovered that the snakes were harmless.
It had been hauled out and left amid the ruins. The more intrinsically valuable portions of the treasure were buried underground in another place, but the girl had by now given up all hopes of ever getting it.
"We know where it is," she concluded with a shiver, "but it would take time, and I wouldn't stay here a minute longer than necessary, money or no money. You and John, Hammer, can divide——"
"Hold on there!" exclaimed the American. "I'm not in on this treasure stunt. It belongs to you, Sara——"
"Just a minute sir and miss," and Solomon leaned forward earnestly, waving his empty pipe as he spoke. "O' course, I 'as to go back wi' you to Mombasa and straighten up this 'ere mess wi' the governor; but if so as you don't want to wait, I'll come back and dig up the stuff on me own. I'll chance it if you will, miss; and you Mr. 'Ammer to take what there is 'ere, me to take what's left."
"That's fair enough, Sara," put in Hammer quickly. "Only, I've no right to——"
"You have!" cried the girl indignantly. "The idea—after all you've gone through for me! Well, let's have it as John proposes, then; you and I, Hammer, take the papers and relics, and John can take the gold for his share. If you don't say yes, I'll—I'll give the whole business to Potbelly!"
"All right," laughed the American, who, to tell the truth, had no great faith in the entire treasure story. "All ready?"
As only two of the Arabs had remained in camp, Solomon summoned them with axes, and the five started for the ruins. Hammer could not enter the tangle of jungle without a shudder, and would greatly have preferred staying away altogether; but once in for it he patted the revolver given him by Solomon and determined to see the thing through.
Fortunately for his peace of mind it appeared that Solomon had left the treasure in one of the clear spaces of the fort itself, for which Hammer was devoutly thankful; he sorely doubted his ability to visit that pit again, for his nerves were still badly shaken.
They reached the clearing, and in spite of his scepticism, Hammer felt a thrill at sight of the two coffin-like lead cases that lay beside the bush-strewn ruins of a wall. Without delay the two Arabs fell to work with their axes, ripping open one of the cases; and after half an hour's labour a second case, of heavy wood, was laid out.
"Teak," grunted Solomon. "Give that ax 'ere."
With some care he attacked the locks that rimmed the iron-bound case, smashing them one after another. When the last had gone he paused, and beckoned Sara forward.
"Open it, miss."
The girl obeyed eagerly. Stooping over, she managed to raise and tip back the heavy top, and with it a mass of camphor-smelling cloth that had lain beneath. A gleam of yellow shot up, and Hammer found himself staring down at a magnificent gold-wrought reliquary. One of the Arabs gave an exclamation in Kiswahili.
"Thahabu! Gold!"
At the same instant Hammer's eyes darted up to the bush-strewn wall. The others had heard nothing, absorbed in the sight of the treasure, but Hammer caught a dull tan-hued form amid the bushes, and snatched at his revolver. He perceived a glint of steel, and fired through his coat pocket.
"Yess, it iss gold," came a mumble, piercing through the startled cry of Sara, and the misshapen face of Sigurd Krausz rose amid the bushes.
A tongue of flame spat back at Hammer, who tried to fire again but could not. Slowly, yet before the echoes of Krausz's shot had flung back from the jungle around, the American slipped and went to his knees.
He looked up in surprise at Sara Helmuth; then, as her fingers went out to his, he choked and fell sideways, both hands clutching at his throat.
CHAPTER XIX
THE "DAPHNE" AGAIN
"Er—'pon my word, Mr. Hammer, I'm—er—glad to be able to apologize!"
"Nonsense, commissioner! Then it's all right with Nairobi?"
"Perfectly, my dear chap, perfectly! Had a bit of a ragging from the Germans, but Krausz had misrepresented things fearfully, you know, and that askari business—er—put the governor in a perfectly beastly rage, I'm told. He gave 'em the man's body with his compliments. Ripping morning, isn't it?"
"Couldn't be better," grinned Hammer cheerfully. He was sitting in a deck-chair beneath the Daphne's awning, Sara Helmuth on one side and Commissioner Smith on the other. His throat was swathed in bandages, and he had lost his healthy tan, but he was undeniably happy, and showed it.
"That yarn—er—reminded me of your American tales," went on Smith rather heavily, as the figure of Solomon appeared coming to join the group. "Two bad men, don't you know—er—shooting across a bar, and all that kind of thing. Each one plugs the other—er—double funeral. Rather exciting thing out here, though, 'pon my word! Very usual in America, I understand."
"Oh, yes, very," returned Hammer gravely. "Hello, John! Can I smoke yet?"
"Werry sorry, sir, but against orders. Your servant, Mr. Smith and I 'opes as you're quite well?"
The Commissioner flushed slightly as he shook hands.
"Quite, thanks, very much. Er—narrow escape Mr. Hammer had, by Jove!"
"Quite so, sir. Missed the jugular by a matter of 'airbreadths, the doctor said. Prowidence is a werry mysterious thing, sir, as the old gent said when the 'ousemaid saw a mouse."
"We might show Mr. Smith that reliquary, John," smiled Sara Helmuth, and her hand stole quite shamelessly over the arm of the deck-chair to Hammer's.
The Daphne lay anchored off Melindi. The commissioner's launch lay at the ladder, its crew of two spruce policemen chatting in Kiswahili with the Arabs above, while the oily ground-swell lifted the yacht at her anchor.
It was two weeks since Hammer had left the jungle behind for ever, as he devoutly hoped, and with the commissioner's visit the last weight had been lifted from his mind.
Not only had he been entirely absolved from any complicity in Harcourt's death, but Nairobi had been graciously pleased to overlook entirely the death of Dr. Krausz, and to waive all claims to the treasure in hand—after the cathedral at Mombasa had been presented with the relics.
Hammer had little use for relics, but he had been very careful to say nothing about the reliquaries. Of these, the finest was that containing the reputed hand of St. Thomas—indeed, Commissioner Smith declared it, rather vaguely, to be "perfectly ripping—top hole, don't you know, in such things!"
His judgement proved ultimately to be entirely correct, while the records, historical and otherwise, contained in the cases, were declared by Sara Helmuth to be worth a good round sum to any library in Europe.
As Hammer was not particularly imbued with a love for art, he sold the three smaller reliquaries to Solomon; and also agreed to carry that individual back to Port Said on the yacht.
As Solomon said, the gold had waited two hundred years, and it could wait another few months very well, while he had important business at Port Said. A crew of sorts had been shipped at Mombasa, and with Hammer's recovery the voyage home would begin.
"You'd better stick around, commissioner," smiled the American as his visitor rose. "About a week from now the American Consul is coming up from Mombasa, and there's going to be some doings, as we say in America."
"Eh?" Mr. Smith looked blank for a moment, until Sara Helmuth's blushes proclaimed themselves. Whereupon, being a very observant young man, his face brightened up, and he seized the American's hand.
"Er—by Jove, old chap—I congratulate you both, 'pon my word I do! I say, do let me bring my assistant and the lieutenant, eh what?"
"Bring your whole constabulary force," grinned Hammer, "and we'll do the thing up in style! And come out for dinner Sunday night, Smith."
Quite excited, the commissioner departed. Hand in hand, Hammer and Sara Helmuth watched his launch puff away toward the green-hilled shore, until Solomon cleared his throat nosily, and they saw two Arabs approaching bearing a bulky package.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir and miss," announced Solomon, "but this 'ere's a bit o' summat as aren't to be shown at the weddin', so to speak. If I may make so bold, miss, as to be a giving of a weddin' present before the 'appy moment——"
A cry of delight broke from the girl, for as the package fell apart there was displayed that same fawn-coloured rug, with the blue, white, and gold dragon of five claws, which Hammer had seen when first he wakened in Solomon's house.
"It's a rug as you might not care for, first-off," explained Solomon apologetically, "but it ain't to be bought for money, miss. Where I got it I 'adn't ought to say, but it 'ad best be kept under cover till you get out o' these 'ere waters. That's the imperial dragon o' China, Mr. 'Ammer, and rugs like them ain't made for sale——"
"Oh, it's beautiful!" cried the delighted Sara, Hammer nodding with appreciative eyes, for he knew that John Solomon's words were strictly true.
As he looked about, however, he saw the pudgy little man bending over his little red notebook, writing very carefully with his fountain pen, and forbore to interrupt.
"Are you glad, girl?" he turned to Sara very soberly, motioning the Arabs to take away the rug as he did so.
"Hammer, dear," she whispered, "I'm happy!"
His face had lost the old lines of hardness and bitterness, and as he met her eyes and smiled into them with perfect understanding, he remembered something.
"But—my name isn't Hammer, dear! You'll have to be Mrs. Cyrus Murray——"
"Yes, but you'll be just Hammer, to me!"
"There!" and Solomon clapped his notebook shut with a very complacent air. "I'd been and overlooked that 'ere account wi' Dr. Krausz; but it's all ship-shape and proper now to file away and 'ave done with."
"Oh, your account!" laughed the American. "That's the one you presented to him, eh? Do you always keep your accounts, John?"
"Werry good plan, sir. They come in 'andy, like, mortal often, even if they're filed away. Howsoever, sir and miss, business is all werry well in its place, but its place ain't between two young 'earts, I says—and since this 'ere account is closed, I'll just file it away."
And as he shuffled off in his carpet-slippers toward his own cabin, the two who sat side by side gazed after him for a moment, smiling, and then turned to each other.
THE END
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