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"Simple, Holmes,"
I sputtered, wiping my face and mouth with a wet towel. "The
rising sun. They did worship the sun along with other deities."

"I'll accept that,"
he said. "But consider that other ancient structures,
seemingly impossible to build in a non-mechanical age, are also
lined up to risings and settings of the sun and moon. I refer to
Stonehenge and the Mayan temples in Yucatan, to name but two."

"Good heavens, do
you suspect some cosmic significance, some secret power?" I
never got an answer to that, for I became deathly sick again and lost
all interest in the subject.

Chapter
Thirteen

Back
Alleys of Cairo

"Of course,"
said Colonel Gray, "all of the seven wonders of the ancient
world were constructed B.C., for the Greeks listed them in the second
century before Christ. All gone now save the oldest and the largest."
His right hand, which had been fanning him with his hat, gestured
westward towards the Nile. "The pyramids of Giza remain as
the sole survivors. Built two thousand years before Nebuchadnezzar
conceived the hanging gardens. Infinitely old when the bronze
fragments of the toppled Colossus of Rhodes were carted away by a
junk dealer."

The skin on the
colonel's hands and arms was ebony dark, but his face was the color
of new brick. He took a sip of gin and lime and continued in his
drawling, somewhat bored, voice.

"And, Doctor, when
we are gone and when England is gone, they'll still be there. I'll
take you to see them tomorrow if you wish. No trip at all. Over
the Nile bridge and you're practically there."

I shrugged, disinclined
to be definite about anything at the moment. When we had arrived in
Alexandria, it was immediately apparent that Holmes had been burning
up the cables and that there were definite plans afoot. He had placed
me in the hands of Colonel Gray for safekeeping to Cairo whilst he
involved himself in who-knows-what in the port of Alexandria and,
possibly, that of Rosetta as well. The Colonel was obviously an old
Egyptian hand, though what his exact duties were in the protectorate
was not made clear to me. He got me to Shepheard's Hotel, which was
all I cared about. That sedate establishment, center of British
society in Cairo, was welcome indeed, and I'm sure some color came
back to my face at the mere sight of it.

We were seated on the
veranda acceding to a hallowed custom of the area known as the
"sunset drink." Gray, a fountain of general knowledge,
regaled me with stories of Richard Lepsius's German expedition in
'43, his excavations at the Sphinx, which had led to mention of
the adjacent pyramids.

Frankly, I was rather
surfeited with discussions of the wonders of this ancient land and
sought to divert the conversation to more modern and informative
channels.

"Colonel, aren't
there an unusual number of military in the area?"

For a moment his eyes
registered surprise over the rim of his glass. Then he grunted.
Colonel Gray commanded a large variety of grunts, all uninformative.

"Has there been
local trouble?" I persisted.

"Nothing on the
surface," he finally said cautiously.

"A feeling, then?
Understand you chaps can sense that sort of thing."

He agreed with this and
set about to prove that I was right.

"Egypt has closer
ties with the Orient than with Europe, you know. Orientals are,
underneath, a frightfully superstitious lot. Then, one of those
religious revival periods is overdue among the Moslems. The native
town seems to have the wind up over some prophecy or rumor. Probably
the latter."

Since he seemed disposed
to drop the matter, I prodded him.

"Not something like
that Mahdi business?"

"Heavens, no! A
wild tale, no doubt. Something about a prophet from the grave. A
squib appeared in the
Al-
Ahram—
"

He registered on my
puzzled expression.

"—Our leading
paper. Unusual for them to comment on the gossip of the mosques and
bazaars, but. . . ."

Colonel Gray's glass
made contact with the table between us. "Care for another?"
he asked tentatively.

"Thank you, no.
Look here, awfully grateful for your acting as guide and whatnot, but
I rather imagine I am an inconvenience. I'll have dinner here at the
hotel and fancy a good long sleep."

"Mr. Holmes did
express concern about your condition," said Gray. I sensed
he was glad for the opportunity to unload me.

"I'll drop by, come
morning, and see if Mr. Holmes has showed up," he said, shaking
my hand perfunctorily. This idea produced another of his grunts, and
he delayed his departure.

"You know, in
London it is a bit hard to understand how things are out here."

"On the borders of
the Empire, as 'twere."

"Humph! But your
friend seems rather up on things."

How Colonel Gray had
become aware of this fact puzzled me. I wondered if he was
really the choleric-faced, stereotyped colonial official that he
seemed to be.

I luxuriated in a cool
tub in the suite secured for us by Gray, donned a suit of lightweight
that the Colonel had helped me select in an arcade shop opposite the
hotel, and dawdled over a dinner. Still somewhat weak, I ate lightly.

Afterwards I walked
through the lobby and out onto the terrace of Shepheard's. It was
comforting to have solid ground beneath my feet. With the setting of
the sun the Egyptian heat had moderated, though the evening was
muggy. However, in my tropicals I was comfortable enough. With no
news from Holmes I was a bit at loose ends and debating whether to
cross the street and view the arcade shops or return to my room when
I saw him.

He was walking on the
Sharia Kamel, squat, short-legged, and progressing at a fair
rate
of speed. It is said that to an Occidental all Chinamen look alike,
but I disproved this by recognizing the man immediately. It was Loo
Chan, the Chinese lawyer employed by Chu San Fu. As he passed under a
street lamp I noted the perpetual sheen of his olive features and the
drawn lips, revealing alarmingly white teeth so large and perfect as
to seem false.

I did not even consider
my next move but threw aside my cigarette and took after him. The
lawyer was headed in the direction of the Ezbekiyeh Gardens and, with
a flash of inspiration, I hastened to the other side of the street to
continue my pursuit. My brain was working feverishly, trying to
recall what I had heard of the exploits of Slippery Styles, whose
uncanny skill at trailing men was a legend. There was sufficient
traffic so that my presence was not noticeable and plenty of shop
windows available to turn towards if the Chinaman happened to take a
look over his shoulder.

Having acted
instinctively, I now mentally paused to take stock of the situation.
The fact that the London lawyer was in Cairo was at first surprising,
but with Chu San Fu headed for the Nile, what more reasonable than
that members of his criminal group were already in Egypt. Could I but
locate Loo Chan's place of residence, I might be able to relay
important information to Holmes on his arrival in Cairo. It occurred
to me that it would be most comforting if the great detective were
with me now as I walked the streets of a city virtually unknown to me
on the heels of a member of a criminal conspiracy. But this was no
moment for the faint-hearted, especially since my task was becoming
more demanding.

We were on the outskirts
of the European city, and ahead were the bazaars and narrow streets
of the native quarter. Pedestrian traffic thinned out, and soon the
thoroughfare we followed was deserted. Loo Chan continued
forward, never once looking back, which might have seemed strange to
a wiser dog on the scent. Then the Chinaman did pause and glance over
his shoulder before turning into an alley. His move could not have
happened at a worse time for I was, though on the opposite side of
the street, badly positioned near one of the infrequent street lamps.
However, Loo Chan made no note of me, turning purposefully into the
dark alley, and it was then that some sense forced itself upon me.

"He's leading me
into a trap," I thought. "Somehow he or a cohort spotted me
at the hotel, and he has baited me into the open. Well, two can play
that game," I thought with a surge of confidence.

I continued down the
street, steeling myself not to even glance at the alley mouth into
which the lawyer had ducked. At the next intersection, I turned to
the right and passed the corner. The native quarter was deserted, all
inhabitants having withdrawn to their lodgings. No surprise that,
since Cairo was known to wake early. With no observers about, I
accelerated into a trot that brought me, somewhat short-winded, to
the next corner. I did not round it but rather peered towards where I
felt the alley opening might be. If Loo Chan emerged, I would have
him under observation whilst hidden myself. But there was no sign of
the Chinaman. Now I faced an impasse. My best bet seemed to be to try
to return to Shepheard's, but if the minions of Chu San Fu were after
me, they could well overtake me in the darkened streets of this
quarter of Cairo and no one would be the wiser. I had no weapon to
forestall them and chided myself for leaving my revolver in my
suitcase at the hotel. But then I had not anticipated a foray into
nighttime Cairo after dinner.

Well, peering round a
corner was getting me nowhere, so I took a deep breath and rounded
it, cautiously making my way down the block. The alley did open on
the street I had chosen and I slipped into it, feeling somewhat the
better for the total darkness that enveloped me. I could see
nothing but could not be seen either. Such was my thought. Loo Chan
must have entered a building facing the alley. Perhaps after all he
was not conscious that he was being followed. I could traverse the
narrow footway, regain the street on the other side, and beat a hasty
retreat, making note of the locale for a report to Holmes.

Keeping the fingers of
one hand on the wall on my right, I moved in the planned direction at
a snail's pace indeed, for I was in horror of stumbling over some
obstruction like a baggy-pants clown in a circus. Somewhat
surprisingly, I moved silently in the Stygian darkness and was
conscious of the dim light at the alley end, which spelled escape.
Then I heard the soft, sibilant sound of a voice, and a curtain was
raised almost by my head, allowing a shaft of light to split the
night. I froze, and then instinctively moved to the wall beside me,
pressing my back to it.

The voice was a mumble
of sound, and then I heard a chair being moved within the
ground-floor room on the other side of the wall. A shadow crossed the
light emanating from the window. I eased closer to the aperture,
removed my hat, and, summoning all the nerve at my command,
stole a peek into the room. Loo Chan had seated himself at a plain
round table, and standing opposite him was the impressive form of the
Manchurian wrestler who had been my jailer when Chu San Fu had
kidnapped me in London. The Chinese lawyer was looking upwards at the
muscular figure, something he would have had to do even if he were
not seated.

"The yacht should
arrive sometime tomorrow," he said. Evidently this statement had
significance, for the Manchurian nodded.

Good heavens, I thought
with a flood of elation! I am privy to a conference here! Possibly
the key to the strange series of events will be revealed to me. What
a coup!

"We must be
prepared for his coming," continued Loo Chan.

Whatever else he
intended to say I did not learn, for a horny palm was slapped across
my mouth, stifling all but my faintest sounds of protest. Nor could I
put up an effective struggle, for an arm, more like a nautical
hawser, encircled my arms and body. I did get in a couple of
backward kicks with my heels, but to no avail. Suddenly the arm
encircling me slid away, as did the one over my mouth, and to my
amazement I was free. There was the soft sound of a falling body, and
I turned and found a large form motionless on the pavement of the
alley. It was the other Manchurian, for there were two of them,
brothers, employed by Chu San Fu. I hadn't the slightest idea of what
had happened. Possibly a falling object, like a flowerpot, had
fortuitously felled my captor. One thing was clear. They were on to
my presence. In a flash I recalled that to the Chinese, surprise is
akin to fear and is the breeder of it. This fact, well tested by
experience, had to be used, or my goose was cooked to a turn!

Steeling myself, I
marched through the door on the far side of the window into an
odoriferous hallway and then through another door into the room I had
observed.