Globusz^® Publishing 

The beard of Achilles. The robbers have no defence against a foul trick. Eddy Rancing discovers that the desert isn't all beer and skittles. He is laughed at by a quite diminutive pilgrim. Lessons from Harrington's daughter stand him in good stead. We learn the lamentable fact that there is scarcely any difference between a razor blade and a self-loading pistol. The toilet case has the last laugh. The fight is over, all are friends and they plan to return a dressing-gown to its rightful owner. Evelyn forgives all. Mr. Bradford, weighing his words carefully, tells us what life is really like.

1.

For twenty-four hours the Adams-Gordon Consolidated Co., as the big bloated doctor had nicknamed their gang, had been encamped together with thirty Arab desperadoes beneath the stunted palm-trees of the desert well.

All the gangsters except Rainer had been to the tropics before; and he had taken every precaution to ensure that he would survive all discomforts. His camel positively rustled with paper parcels. Before their departure from the Sahara, he had made numbers of purchases - all kinds of drugs and preventives, from Aspirins to insect-powders and emollients for saddles. He wore green sunglasses and as he rode, held a parasol above his head.

As soon as they had pitched camp, he rubbed himself with some ointment against mosquitoes, and the resulting aroma was so offensive that the other members of the caravan were compelled to pitch their tents at a safe distance from him, and the tethered camels tugged wildly at the ropes.

After one hour, several of the party took down their tents and pitched them at an even greater distance from Rainer who, however, was not offended; he knew that they were too ignorant to be aware of the dangers against which he was protecting himself, malaria, yellow fever and the sleeping-sickness carried by mosquitoes. Doctor Cournier, however, was curious to know the composition of an anti-mosquito ointment with such a horrible smell, and he took a look at the bottle lying by Rainer's side. He read on the label:

CAMEL GREASE

Rub injured hoof generously. Isolate animal so as to keep air inside
stable from becoming tainted with penetrating smell of ointment.

HOOVES NEED TO BE TAKEN CARE OF!

"I think," Adams said to Gordon, "we'd better drop the idea of trying to sound out this fellow Brandon-Münster. Much better to raid the oasis with our thirty men, capture the bloke and grill him about the Buddha."

"Unless something crops up to prevent us," the doctor remarked.

"There he goes again, the old pessimist," snarled Beefy, who even in the desert wore a dinner-jacket and had also swathed a green ribbon round his sun-helmet.

"You are mistaken. It is not pessimistic to be circumspect," replied the fully qualified poison-retailer reproachfully in his soft, mellifluous voice. He enjoyed little popularity with his collaborators because of his haughty, aristocratic manner. "In my opinion, there's been a little flaw in our scheme. It's an insignificant flaw, but let a single screw work loose and the most complex machine will often break down." He fanned himself with his silk handkerchief: the wind was blowing from Rainer's direction bringing with it a new blast of the overpowering stench. "In my view, the little flaw in our scheme has been the beard of our esteemed friend Yoko."

"I'll thank you not to try to drag me in by my beard," Yoko snorted.

"Come, come," the doctor said, soothingly. "Let's not be touchy now. We have to consider the common interest."

"Very well," said the man with the beard threateningly. "But you'd better consider my beard an Achilles elbow."

"You mean heel, my friend," said the doctor in magisterial tones.

"If I happened to be a doctor," retorted Yoko acrimoniously, "I too would be able to put a name to the various parts of the human body."

"Now, now, my friends, will you kindly shut up," said Adams, calling the litigants to heel. "Or rather let the doctor talk and tell us where he thinks we have gone wrong."

"Eh bien," Dr. Cournier said, "I am afraid we have done the very opposite of what we hoped to do. Yesterday, Mr. Yoko got information from the guide about the Weston girl by pretending that he wanted to go to Ain Sefra. Later on, he accompanied you, Monsieur Gordon, when you hired Arabs for our raid on Marbouk. Yoko has such an... er... conspicuous exterior that he must have been noticed and people would realise that he intended to go to Marbouk, not Ain Sefra."

"That is possible," Gordon agreed. "Still, it's not likely that anyone found it particularly suspicious or extraordinary."

"That's why I compared this little flaw to a small screw."

Towards the evening of the following day, they began to grow impatient; the victims ought to have arrived by now.

A few Arabs were sent out to reconnoitre. They were told that it was essential for them to discover whether the girl was on the way already. If her party could not be seen anywhere near by, then something had gone wrong.

It was very hot. Everyone gave Rainer a wide berth as if he was a leper, but the unbearable smell of his ointment made their stomachs heave even at a distance of twenty yards. Only the mosquitoes could endure the ointment: they swarmed round the bespectacled fellow and bit him till the blood spurted.

The patrol returned.

"We have seen their traces," they reported. "We could see the marks left by their camels. They have veered off to the east along a very bad track through the shott. Nobody ever uses it."

"Get going, everybody!" Adams cried excitedly.

They broke camp in a matter of minutes. Rainer slipped his crossword puzzle into his pocket, put on his dark sunglasses, and opened his sunshade. He looked like one of the magi.

The camels trotted on as fast as they could and in the first light of dawn a moving speck could be seen in the distance.

"It's a traveller!"

"We'll wait for him," said Gordon; and the gang concealed themselves behind a huge sand dune.

"He is following the tracks made by the party we're after," one of the Arabs said. "He must either have seen them or be one of them."

The traveller approached, prodding his tired camel unsuspectingly towards the great dune.

2.

Thus it was that in a matter of seconds Eddy Rancing found himself surrounded by a gang of men led by a short, stocky fellow who asked:

"Where are you from?"

Eddy guessed immediately that he was face to face with the gangsters!

"I was heading for Marbouk, but I have had to turn back. My eyes are hurting."

"Did you by any chance meet a woman travelling with one or more companions?"

"No, I didn't."

Gordon laughed.

"So you're one of them. The question was a trap. You are following their track in the reverse direction. Therefore you must have met them. If you deny it you must have a good reason for doing so."

"Let's go!" cried Beefy. "We may overtake them yet!"

"Get rid of this bloke!"

Eddy was aware of an arrow of pain in his head; he saw clusters of gold stars, then fell senseless to the dust.

Beefy had knocked him out with one blow. Then he and Yoko frisked Eddy with lightning speed while Rainer called from the saddle:

"See if he's got some petrol. My lighter's run dry." He put on his pince-nez the better to supervise the search.

"It's just as I have said," purred the creamy voice of Dr. Cournier. "They've found out that we've been hiring men. Yoko's full beard is too conspicuous."

"Listen!" Yoko retorted threateningly. "For the last time I'm warning you to leave my beard out of it. You're just as conspicuous with your impossible dimensions and that crooning voice of yours."

"You ought to take bromide," the doctor suggested.

"Masters!" one of the Arabs butted in. "Now it's quite sure they've taken the road through the shott. It's a bad road, and dangerous, but Azrim knows it well. If they turned in that direction yesterday afternoon, we shan't be able to overtake them, for they'll have reached Marbouk tomorrow afternoon, whereas we'll only get there by tomorrow night."

"Now is there any other way of playing foul with gangsters?" Rainer complained indignantly.

"What is the population of Marbouk?" Adams asked.

"A few Arabs - some thirty of them, and their women and children. Then there is a garrison of five soldiers at the sanatorium, and also a few invalid members of the legion."

"It won't take us long to settle them! Let's go!" Gordon exclaimed.

One of the Arabs wanted to shoot Rancing, but the doctor would not allow him.

"Don't do it, my boy," he said in his kindliest tones. "He'll die anyway. Take away his camel and that'll do. If we should get nabbed, a trifle like that can make several years' difference."

Then they all trotted away, leaving Eddy Rancing spread-eagled on the sand as if trying to embrace the entire Sahara.

3.

Azrim led the caravan; he was followed by Evelyn, while Lord Bannister brought up the rear following close after the water-bearing camel which was hitched to his own mount by a short halter, for the path across the dangerous salt swamp was exactly two feet wide. Their progress was noisy for the path crunched beneath the camels' hooves and a cold, white mud would rise now and then from under its caked crust; this ancient slime is said to have been the bed of an ocean long ages ago.

It was a fine moonlit night. The shott gleamed faintly in the white light like the surface of a river covered with huge blocks of ice; it was even more bleak and desolate than the desert.

The camels would split and paw the ground, not wanting to go any farther. The cracked crust of salt hurt their hooves, and instinct told them that death was lying in wait for them here. Azrim had to use his stick frequently; the animals brayed and kicked. Fear clutched Evelyn by the throat.

The wind stirred up the thin layer of salt that covered the swamp like powdered dust, and swept it along in rustling clouds beside them.

Lord Bannister did not speak. He saw that the itinerary had been changed. But that was nothing unusual, of course. They had already abandoned the original plan. Now they were being followed again. There would be no stopping till they came to the Equator. And what sort of a state would they all be in then?

His face and hands were fumed over with a cold, sticky deposit of salt.

At one point the water-bearing camel stumbled from the path and began to struggle through the soft mud, braying hideously all the time. It was a miracle that Lord Bannister's own mount was not dragged after it by the halter tethering the two animals. Luckily, Lord Bannister had sufficient presence of mind to lean heavily backwards, pulling at the bridle with both hands until Azrim came to his assistance. The guide slashed the taut halter, then tried to pull the writhing animal out of the swamp.

It had already sunk into the mud as far as its belly, but their united strength was enough to drag it back somehow on to the firm path. In the meantime, Lord Bannister had stumbled and sunk up to his knees in the rotting weeds that bordered the track.

Evelyn looked imploringly towards Lord Bannister, in a silent appeal for forgiveness as he struggled back on to the path, his legs coated with the loathsome mud.

Lord Bannister sighed and made a deprecating gesture with one hand.

"It's a difficult thing to be a humanitarian, Miss Weston," he said. "Maybe I'll stop trying if I have to take many more of these journeys."

In the morning, worn out and covered with mud they arrived at Marbouk.

There were only two buildings in the oasis: a forbidding-looking adobe hut which served as an inn, and at a little distance, the painted block-house of the military convalescence camp. An Arab douar consisting of a few tents formed the main square of the place.

They asked for tea to be served immediately and while this was being prepared they quickly changed into clean clothes. The need to have a shave never entered Lord Bannister's head, so keen was he on having a hot cup of tea.

As soon as breakfast was over, Evelyn rose from the table.

"I'm going straight to the hospital to hand the document over to the military authorities. I would like you to come with me."

Lord Bannister sighed.

"Forward, forward, all the time; it seems we must always be on the move. And once you've got going, there's no knowing when you can sit down again."

"I wish you'd stop brooding, Lord Bannister. Are you coming or are you not?"

"I am not. Now that you are here, you can't possibly go anywhere except to the only other building in the oasis, and that building is a military establishment. You couldn't possibly sally forth into the desert on foot, so I can safely let you go. Besides, I am beginning to believe you when you say that your mission is an honourable one. Don't know why. Perhaps this fellow Rancing had convinced me with his story about the house in the King's Road. I have confidence in you, Miss Weston. And so I am putting my honour, too, into your hand together with this envelope. Here you are."

He handed the case to her.

She looked at him earnestly.

"Thank you. You may rest assured that I'll guard your honour as jealously as I guard my own."

"Besides... I hope you don't mind... Er... I'd like to have a shave." He spoke anxiously, suspecting that she would resent his intention. God alone knew why she was so keen for him to grow a beard. And sure enough, her eyes flashed angrily.

"Ah! So that's what lies behind your newborn confidence in me! If your chin were smooth you would be certain to accompany me, wouldn't you? Under the circumstances, however, you are compelled to have confidence in me, since tidiness is, perhaps, even more important to you than honour."

Angrily, she walked out of the room and banged the door. Let the horrid man go and look for his razor! In the desert if he had a mind to. She felt like crying. Most irritating of all was the knowledge that she did in fact love this horrible prig.

Lord Bannister went up to his room. Already the heat of the sun was scorching, and the walls of the adobe hut gave out a fusty smell. The matting was alive with vermin and everywhere there was the buzzing of insects. From downstairs came the incessant throaty chanting of the innkeeper, an Arab half-demented from too much hashish.

Poor girl. A trip like that behind her and she didn't even bother to take a rest. He felt ashamed of his own weariness and decided to do something to please her.

He would not shave!

Then she would realise, when she came back, that it was not because he had wanted to have a shave that he had let her go by herself. That was what he would do. Uncomfortable though it might be, to prove the genuineness of his trust in her, he would for the first time in his life disregard the stubble on his chin. Though from what he knew of her, he might well grow a beard that reached down to his waist before earning one word of approval from her.

He decided to go to bed. It seemed a very sensible procedure, for there was no knowing if he would be wakened or not, and perhaps even told to go on some long and urgent journey. The girl averred that their travels had come to an end, but a scientist must always weigh the evidence before agreeing to any statement and he had observed that on more than one occasion when he had felt free to enjoy a respite from worry, his freedom had turned out to be quite illusory.

Lord Bannister therefore decided to forego his shave and instead lay down on the mat to sleep.

4.

There were eight patients in the neat and cheerful ward: eight convalescent soldiers with bronzed faces. They were chatting, playing cards and smoking. But one of their number was standing apart, his back turned to his comrades, looking out of the window.

There was a knock on the door and Evelyn entered the ward, saying clearly and firmly,

"I am looking for M. Münster."

The soldier who was standing by the window slowly turned round and looked at the visitor; there was an expression of lethargic indifference on his drawn and sickly face. The other convalescents turned in surprise and stared at the pretty girl with every indication of interest; Münster gave her the same blank stare which a moment before he had bestowed on the garden bench. It was not the unknowing regard of the mentally afflicted but the unfocused stare of someone whose thoughts were habitually turned towards the past and who now went through the motions of living, like an automaton. His reply, drawling and soft, was nevertheless distinct:

"I am Münster. What can I do for you?"

"I am Lady... I mean I'm Miss... I wonder if you could come into the garden with me?"

"As you please."

He followed her with steady, measured strides.

She was overcome with nervousness and quite forgot her own troubles in her pity for Brandon. She was face to face with the principal character of a drama long since played out. His reason had not become clouded, but he was living the numbed existence of one who no longer feels anything. What should she tell him?

When they were alone together in the garden she began,

"I know who you are. Your real name is Brandon and you used to be a Lieutenant-Commander."

"Really." He spoke with polite indifference.

"I know your tragedy. Indeed, better than you do."

"Yes?" This too sounded hollow as when one strikes the same note on the piano twice in succession.

"First of all, I have to inform you that your younger brother was innocent."

She was watching closely and saw him wince. So he could still feel and suffer. He frowned and looked at her severely.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who knows the truth about your case and who has come here to rehabilitate you. Your brother was just as innocent as you are. It was Wilmington, your brother-in-law, who did it."

Then she told him the whole story, from Miss Ardfern's betrayal of young Brandon to the farewell note which Wilmington had made use of after stealing the map. The soldier sat down and put a hand to his side as if his wound was troubling him.

"Yes," he said, musingly. "Probably that is what happened. I don't know where you got your facts, but I believe you. However no one would believe me. But it's no longer of any importance to me, I assure you."

"If you were able to give back the stolen map intact, with the seals unbroken... Would that rehabilitate you?"

"That envelope has long since been passed on to certain people to whom it is extremely valuable and who have long since broken the seals and read the contents."

"Would you please answer my question? What would happen if you could bring a witness who would swear to the truth of what I have told you and produce the envelope with the seals unbroken?"

"Well, in that case... Well, then..." A gleam of interest appeared in his eyes, and his face kindled. "In that case not only could my innocence be proved, but I should render a service..."

"Here you are."

She handed him the envelope. As he stared at it colour rose to his cheeks and brightness to his eyes. Then the brightness fell and splashed his tunic.

"Who are you?" he asked huskily; the envelope trembled in his hand.

"My name is Evelyn Weston. I am worth a hundred thousand francs - dead or alive."

She handed him the newspaper, which she had kept with the envelope in her small leather case.

After perusing the paper, Brandon sat in silent thought for some time.

"I wonder why you have gone to such trouble to bring me this means of proving my innocence. Why should you...?"

"Because there is something you can do for me. I am looking for a small box surmounted by a ceramic statuette representing Buddha. You bought it from Messrs. Longson and North fifteen years ago."

"Buddha... Why, yes! I remember... I bought it for my elder brother as a Christmas gift. Of course! It's an enamelled box with a statuette of Buddha on the lid. He has a fancy for that kind of thing, you know."

"Who is your elder brother?"

"Lord Bannister... Why, what? I say, corporal! Bring some water! She's faulted! Quick!"

5.

It was dusk when Evelyn and the soldier returned to the inn. The simple-minded, hashish-smoking innkeeper was squatting at the entrance, chanting the same three and a half notes as before. They learned from him that his lordship was not yet down.

They went upstairs, but at the door Evelyn stopped Brandon, saying,

"Perhaps I had better prepare him for the news."

She knocked. There was no reply so she opened the door a little and peeped inside. His lordship, still wearing his clothes, was lying on the mat among the seething insects, and was fast asleep. He certainly looked both battered and exhausted.

She touched his shoulder, but he did not wake up.

Then she shook him vigorously and he opened his eyes. Immediately he recognized that he was in a familiar situation and felt no surprise. Sadly, he heaved himself to his feet.

"We're leaving?" he asked, and started for the window. "Any ladder?"

"We aren't leaving for anywhere."

"Must we hide then?" he asked, a shade more sadly, but still without demur.

"Lord Bannister," she said with an unusual display of emotion which his lordship thought has been aroused by the sight of his stubby chin. "You will be pleased to see someone you haven't seen for a long time."

"I knew it! Holler has found his way here!"

"It's someone... a man... you lost touch with long ago." His face darkened a little, and he looked at her searchingly. "It is a man to whom you are very devoted. He is the same person for whose honour we have braved so many deadly perils."

She opened the door and Brandon entered the room.

It is only in old plays that on occasions like this people make elaborate tests to show that they are not dreaming. These two men did no such thing. Nor did they proclaim their relationship, firing at each other the one word "Brother!" for this was something that they had learnt in early youth. They embraced in silence, then clasped hands and spoke never a word.

It was some time before they felt calm enough to be able to say anything.

Evelyn, of course, had had no idea that the man with whom she had crossed the Channel was brother to the very Lieutenant-Commander Brandon she had set out to trace, and, thanks to Lord Bannister's aloofness and reserve, she had never had occasion to acquaint him with the facts.

"What do you propose to do now?" Lord Bannister asked his brother. "You must immediately set about clearing yourself of the charges of treason and dishonesty! Mustn't bear it a minute more."

"As a member of the Legion, I must report the case to Headquarters in Morocco. As the French are as interested in this map as the English, I hope they will not take the information through the usual official channels."

"Miss Weston..." Lord Bannister turned to Evelyn in embarrassment, and stroked his bristling chin. "I will now... I'll have to..."

She replied in a dignified and distant fashion.

"I hope you realise that it was really to restore someone's honour that I have troubled you now and then. I am sorry, after all, a gentleman's life is not a pub in which anyone can come in and go out as he pleases."

Brandon looked searchingly first at the girl then at his brother. He had never seen his brother looking as neglected and morose as at this moment when he lowered his eyes, muttering some indistinguishable words.

"Oh, by the way," Brandon said abruptly. "Miss Weston is looking for some old family jewel..."

"I seem to have heard about that," Lord Bannister muttered, shuddering slightly.

"To find it, she will need that small box with a little statuette of a Buddha on it," Brandon continued. "I bought it for you as a Christmas present. You may remember..."

"Why didn't you say so?" exclaimed Lord Bannister enthusiastically. "The statuette and the box are at your disposal at any time, Miss Weston."

"The best idea would be for me to send a cable to my mother," she said excitedly, "and for you to instruct the staff at your place in London that they are to hand the Dreaming Buddha over to Mrs. Weston."

"It's absolutely unnecessary," Lord Bannister smiled. "We have the little Buddha with us here."

Evelyn's blood drummed wildly in her temples and chest.

"Where?"

"In my toilet case. He is sitting at this moment on top of my shaving kit... Why! Miss Weston! Quick, bring some water! She's fainted."

For the second time that day Evelyn fell to the floor unconscious.

6.

The atmosphere was heavy with gloom. When the two men had listened to Evelyn's story of the perilous situation in which she had found herself, and of her wild flight, whose greatest thrills Lord Bannister had shared, the tragicomical aspect of the situation made them shudder.

She had thrown her fortune away with her own hand!

Her vendetta against Lord Bannister's toilet case had ended; and it was she who had been laid low.

"We'll send out search parties to comb the desert," Lord Bannister mumbled when he noticed the melancholy expression with which she was watching the antics of the centipedes on the floor of beaten clay.

Lord Bannister himself was aware that his suggestion was perfectly hopeless. It was ludicrous to think of trying to find a toilet case in the middle of the desert where the sand was driven by the wind into a new position every day, sometimes burying entire caravans in an hour.

Evelyn looked at the men with a strange, melancholy smile on her lips.

"No use crying over spilt milk," she said. "It was God's will that I went in search of the diamond and found the envelope. A soldier's honour is worth at least as much as the finest diamond."

"Your efforts, of course..."

"I hope, Lord Bannister," she cut him off resolutely, "that you do not intend to offend me by offering me a 'fitting reward'?"

There was silence for some minutes before Lord Bannister burst out.

"The thing was within your reach all the time. Why, already on the channel boat, it was actually in the cabin with you. You would have left it in the road near Lyons, had I not insisted that we must drive back to get it! That's what women are. They will cheerfully throw something away a dozen times, but when it has really gone for good, then they realise that it was their most cherished treasure."

"That remark rivals your quotation from Aristotle," Evelyn remarked somewhat spitefully. She realised that there were times when he did not appreciate as he ought to have done, her attempt to restore his brother's honour. "I have an uncle who has a gift for coining better sayings than that. It's his opinion that many men are like a dress suit: absolutely useless when out of place."

Lord Bannister blushed.

"I, too, have incurred a grievous loss," he replied heatedly. "I was fond of that shaving Buddha. And as for the dress suit, though a main road may not have been the proper place to wear it, I think I didn't give a bad account of myself."

"You wouldn't have come along with me, had it not been to save your skin."

"Miss Weston... you... you are being unfair!"

"Ungrateful was the word you wanted to say. Go ahead. Say it."

They chased each other round the room, hurling insults like two children. Lord Bannister even banged the table.

"Hurting each other won't do any good at all," Brandon opined.

They relapsed into silence. Evelyn wept. Lord Bannister muttered.

"It's time," Brandon said, "to settle this business of the envelope. I will now get through to Headquarters and make my report. We can't let you go on being wanted by the police.

"My brother and I will testify that you have risked your life to recover this vital document for your country."

Suddenly, they heard the blast of a trumpet. The alarm was being sounded.

7.

Before the days of wireless, lights were used to flash messages between the oases. On this particular evening lights were once again seen signalling in the distance: it was an appeal for help, repeated some fifty times and those who sent the desperate message were clearly without a radio transmitter.

"Gangsters... raid... oasis... Marbouk... S.O.S... Gangsters... raid... oasis... Marbouk... S.O.S..."

The message was not only an appeal for help but also a warning of danger.

The garrison of five rounded up all the inhabitants into the fort-like military hospital: a few old Arabs, several children, some eight to ten invalid soldiers and the small garrison-not exactly a community which could be expected to put up a very strong resistance.

"Who can these raiders be?" wondered the Commanding Officer.

"Miss Weston and I can tell you that," Lord Bannister said calmly, accepting one of the rifles that were being distributed. "It's a gang of common thieves and murderers plus a number of Arab marauders led by a spy who is wanted all over Europe and who goes by the name of Adams. We can expect that they will number at least fifty men."

"In that case we're as good as dead."

"That's what I think, too," Lord Bannister agreed quietly.

8.

Eddy Rancing was awakened by a nauseatingly evil smell. He felt a piece of hot wet meat moving over his face. He was being licked by a hyena.

He sat up in alarm. The hyena growled and jumped back. The young man summoned all his strength, whipped out his gun and drove the beast away by firing a number of shots.

The heat was intense, the sun blazing mercilessly over the parched desert. His head was aching and there was a huge swelling on the place where he had been hit. He struggled to his feet, and started to stagger forward scarcely conscious of what he was doing.

Behind an unusually high sand-dune he found enough shadow to be able to sit out of the sun's rays. He bowed his aching head and cupped his chin in his palms.

It was the end.

It was going to be a rather hackneyed death. Desert, thirst and all that. He might have guessed. Everything had gone wrong from the very start. This was what came of running after diamonds...

He was breathing with difficulty, for the dust irritated his lungs; his tongue became swollen and his lips, also swollen, became chapped. His skin began to itch unbearably as all the moisture evaporated almost visibly from his body. "Water makes up two-thirds of the human body," he remembered from his lessons at school. This two-thirds would evaporate here pretty soon. Then he would be lying in the sand, a shrivelled corpse, like those of the medieval monks that were hung in their cassocks on the walls of the vaults of ancient monasteries.

He began to gasp for water; half-mad with thirst, he started off once more into the desert. The enormous disc of the sun was veiled now behind clouds of yellow dust and was beginning to sink towards the horizon where there was an area of peculiar radiance in which human figures mounted on camels were moving upside down.

Eddy, stumbling and faltering, walked on until the sun exploded in a blaze of violet and disappeared behind the farthest sand-dunes.

He stumbled and fell full length to the ground. He had not the strength to rise again. He crept on his stomach towards the dark object which had tripped him up and picked up a leather toilet case.

With trembling hands he snapped it open, thinking only that it might contain water. As he fumbled with the case the moon appeared and shed a faint glow across the sky. Then Eddy lifted out of the case a large smooth object which he set down in the dust so that he could examine it.

Eddy Rancing found himself eyeing the Dreaming Buddha! There he was, sitting on top of his enamelled box; his head bowed as if he was ashamed of the whole business. They had met at journey's end: in the Sahara.

You got what you deserved, Eddy Rancing, he thought. Not for nothing have you endured all these hardships. There! It's yours now! Drink it!

For he knew that this was the real thing. This one contained the diamond and no mistake. Why he felt so sure was not important; but he had no doubt whatever! He had only to give it a sharp knock against some rock, and the diamond would be revealed.

Eddy Rancing began to shriek with laughter. He rolled on his back in the dust of the desert, flung his arms wide, and laughed at the top of his voice; he laughed hideously, his face distorted by a thousand wrinkles.

The Buddha watched him silently.

9.

After midnight, when the sand of the Sahara, having made haste to give out the heat it had absorbed during the day, becomes almost as cold as ice, Eddy Rancing revived. Death does not come so easily in the desert; when the atmosphere is cooler, there is less evaporation of humidity from the body and remaining fluids start circulating once again. Thus nature forced Eddy into a renewed consciousness of his terrible position.

He could see the Buddha sitting motionless in front of him, head bowed as if watching over his death. But he felt indifferent to his fate. He reached his hand into the toilet case and pulled out a convex mirror, a comb, a torch, a book, a shaving stick... and a bottle!

Quickly he unscrewed the cap of the bottle and sniffed the mildly mentholated fragrance of its contents. He drained the bottle in one gulp. He had never had a more delicious drink than this half pint of lukewarm Harris & Crompton gargle. Little did Messrs. Harris & Crompton dream that Edward Rancing would one day rate their "mildly aromatic Dandy gargle" higher than every kind of cocktail, wine and champagne.

He revived sufficiently to be able to sit up. He seemed to feel the gargle coursing through his veins. And its mildly mentholated aroma was indeed refreshing.

He took hold of the Buddha, intending to smash the little statuette. However, he changed his mind. That diamond might as well stay where it was until he was once again in a safe place. The thought of the diamond reminded him of Oasis Marbouk, Evelyn and the gangsters. He remembered that the gangsters were about to raid the oasis where Evelyn and Lord Bannister would now be resting, all unaware that death was marching towards them.

He wondered idly what he could do to help them and immediately the answer flashed into his mind. It had not been for nothing that he had flirted with a lighthouse-keeper's daughter. He looked wryly at the Buddha and thought that here in the Sahara you had to be ready to acquire a new set of valves. It was the Morse Code, not the diamond, that would be most useful to him now.

He switched on the torch, and held the mirror in front of it. Then, just as he had learned from grim Pop Harrington's daughter, he alternately covered the magnifying mirror and held it against the light, thus producing the letters of the Morse alphabet: short, long, short; short, long, short...

The signals could be seen miles away in the darkness.

"Gangsters... raid... oasis... marbouk... S.O.S..."

He kept on signalling until the mirror dropped from his hand and he rolled over, exhausted. With the last ounce of his strength he turned the torch so that its beam was directed perpendicularly into the sky. That was what saved his life.

"That's where the signals came from! Look at that long shaft of light!" exclaimed P. J. Holler, who now had a leather bag slung round his neck, since camels, like aeroplanes, had a rather depressing effect on him.

10.

Outside the fortress-hospital, the gangsters were somewhat checked by the first volley from within. About half a dozen Arabs dismounted head first from their camels.

"Get back!" Adams yelled.

The raiders fell back among the palm-trees and opened fire from this cover.

A bullet hit the window-frame beside Lord Bannister's head, and sent splinters of wood flying in every direction. Lord Bannister did not bat an eyelid but went on firing. Only when Evelyn screamed softly, he glanced in her direction.

"Now you can see, Miss Weston, that a gentleman can wield other weapons besides his razor. I recall how during the war - they can certainly shoot," he muttered, somewhat surprised. He did not finish telling her what had happened in the war.

The gangsters were firing sporadically. There was no doubt but that they were working to a plan, and this was soon revealed. The ward filled with a peculiar, acrid smell.

"Something's burning!" cried the Commanding Officer.

An Arab came running in.

"Some cursed dog has got behind the building and thrown a lighted torch unto the roof!"

They could hear a crackling noise like the rattle of a machine-gun. The fire was spreading, and there was no possibility of them being able to put it out since anyone who ventured to expose himself on the roof would be a sitting target for the enemy.

"Miss Weston," Lord Bannister said, "you may need this."

He handed her an automatic.

"Thank you," she said.

Flames were shooting from the roof; the room filled with smoke which became so dense that they could scarcely breathe. Rats scurried between the feet of the defenders.

"The envelope!" cried Brandon; the others were coughing so much that they could not speak.

Lord Bannister understood what was in his brother's mind. The envelope would have to be destroyed to prevent it from falling into the gangsters' hands.

Bullets rained into the room as the gangsters prepared for a general assault. There was the crash of shattered glass as the window-panes fell in and the thud of overturned furniture. Lord Bannister, holding his lighter, edged his way towards the envelope with the five seals, which Brandon was holding up so that his brother could put a light to it.

Evelyn, deathly pale, was standing with her back to the wall, clutching her Browning. A bullet pierced the medicine-chest next to her head but she did not even notice. Her gaze was riveted on the envelope, and her heart was heavy. The envelope would be destroyed and they would all die. The whole undertaking had been in vain.

But in the second before Lord Bannister could flick on his lighter, all were startled by a sudden volley of firing close at hand and the simultaneous peal of a bugle.

A troop of fierce spahis had arrived on the scene, led by a tame editor wearing a leather bag suspended round his neck.

11.

When a photograph of Miss Evelyn Weston appeared in all the morning papers, P. J. Holler almost choked. He was eating fried fish when he noticed it and a mouthful went down the wrong way.

He recognised the face as that of Lady Bannister. He was at first dumbfounded to think that Lady Bannister could be an intelligence agent. And it was inconceivable to think of her as a burgler and a murderer. And yet, and yet... he remembered that it had been on the very evening of the envelope robbery that she had turned up with her dress torn and spattered with mud. He remembered that Lord Bannister had nearly choked when he had been shown the newspaper account in the plane from Lyons. And why had that pedantic peer dressed up as a Tyrolese folk singer? And there were other unanswered questions too.

What could he possibly do? He was absolutely certain that Evelyn Weston and Lady Bannister were one and the same person. But he could not afford to discount the remote chance that this was not so.

"Careful, Peter Jerry," he told himself. "Keep your wits about you."

He would have to go after her. Where was it that she had gone to? Oh, yes. Oasis Marbouk! But first he would have to go and see Lord Bannister.

At Lord Bannister's villa, he was told that the scientist had left in the company of a lady and a visitor. The valet, new in Lord Bannister's employ, could not tell him whether or not the lady was his lordship's wife.

"Look here, my man," P. J. Holler said nervously. "You're not a stranger in this town. I want you to go out and hire twenty reliable men who would be willing to come with me immediately to Oasis Marbouk. I want to go to your master's assistance, as I believe he is in danger. Here are five hundred francs in advance."

Within an hour, the valet had the caravan ready, complete with guide, water-carrier and provisions; and he had attached himself to the rescue party too.

Thus P. J. Holler set out to do his own detective work. The questions to which he wanted an answer were.

a) Who is Münster, the man Evelyn Weston has been looking for?

b) Are Lady Bannister and Evelyn Weston one and the same person?

If so, what is Lord Bannister's connection with the affair? If she was a spy, then he, P. J. Holler, intended to run her to earth as well as all her cronies. What a headline! If she was not a spy, he would claim to be visiting Oasis Marbouk, which he had every right to do, and he would in no way lose face. He scarcely contemplated the idea of informing the police. He felt that his position as a British newspaper man entitled him to the right to make his own investigations. If he failed, then the detectives could take on the job.

And as there is a special guardian angel to protect journalists on their journeys, P. J. Holler ran into a detachment of spahis by the ruins of the ancient Latin city in the desert. Nor was this enough. The officer in charge of the spahis turned out to be Lieutenant Villers, an old acquaintance of his from the time of the Riff War, when he had worked at General Headquarters as a war correspondent!

"Hello, Holler!" the lieutenant greeted him. "Why, you look like a real Bedouin out of the latest revue of the Follies Bergeres."

"Hello, Villers! What on earth are you doing in a Latin city where the night-clubs have been closed for the last thousand years and there's no jazz?"

"Patrol, sir. Forty-eight hours on patrol duty. Where are you heading for?"

"I'm going to Oasis Marbouk. I'm on holiday, and I'm going everywhere where I've no business to be."

"Then allow me to provide a gala escort for the British press. I'll see you as far as the desert well."

But when darkness fell Lieutenant Villers did not return to his base. From that moment, the detachment of spahis rode hell for leather onwards, together with P. J. Holler, for the officer had seen and interpreted the light signals.

On the way, they found Eddy Rancing, whom Lord Bannister's valet and a few of the Arabs escorted back to the town. The spahis, led by a harassed P. J. Holler, pushed on towards Marbouk at breakneck speed.

They were just in time.

Gordon, Dr. Cournier and Beefy were killed by the first volley. The others, including Adams, were handcuffed. Rainer was still giving off an offensive smell, which made it impossible for him to be questioned at the moment. As they tied him up by the wrists, he said resignedly:

"I have never before had a wish come true so quickly. All day long, I have been wishing I could stay in some cool place for a good long time. It certainly looks as though my wish will come true this time."

And it did.

12.

For the first time in his life, Lord Bannister truly meant the phrase he had so often repeated on previous occasions merely out of politeness:

"I'm very glad to see you, my dear Holler."

The editor rolled his eyes and breathed heavily.

"Gimme some pickles... or a lemon. Damn that camel. He was rocking so vehemently there were times I thought I'd go down between his humps. Gimme some pickles."

In the meantime, Lieutenant Villers had got through to G.H.Q. and G.H.Q. called the British Embassy in Paris, and both Legionary Münster-Brandon and Lord Bannister spoke on the line, too.

Then the caravan set out on the return journey to Marrakesh. It was headed by Lord Bannister and his brother, Evelyn with her leather-bag and P.J.Holler (who had obtained an abundant supply of pickled gherkins). Holler knew that with his usual luck he had landed one of his big scoops. Lord Bannister had promised to tell him all that he thought could be safely divulged to the public, and had given his hand on it that Holler had an option on the story.

Once again they were assembled in the drawing-room of Lord Bannister's villa. All round the house and garden spahis were strolling as if by chance. The gangsters were now being questioned. Telephone messages were received and transmitted, and Evelyn was interviewed by military intelligence officers. Once her part in the affair had been elucidated, her exploits were invested with glory. However, Evelyn was sitting tired and dispirited in Lord Bannister's drawing-room in which a fireplace added national atmosphere to a room which was already furnished in a uniquely British style; it was a strange room to find in Africa.

Evelyn was saddened by the thought of all the hardships she had endured in vain.

"A rotten business," Lord Bannister remarked sadly.

"What business?" Holler inquired, sniffing like the news-hound that he was.

"Oh, nothing," said Lord Bannister. "I've lost my shaving kit. A small enamelled box. Very distressing. Used to be there on the mantelpiece, and..."

He flung an arm casually in the direction of the mantelpiece turned his head, and remained in this position as if frozen. His jaw dropped and everyone looked in the direction to which he was pointing.

Sitting with bowed head on the lid of an enamelled box on the mantelpiece, was the Dreaming Buddha.

Lord Bannister, Evelyn and Brandon rose as one man and started towards the object as if mesmerised. Lord Bannister was the first to lay his hand on it. Then they all stood as if transfixed.

"Why, that's your shaving kit all right, Lord Bannister," exclaimed P. J. Holler. "We found it lying beside the open toilet case where we picked up that young man. It looked as if he had known what to do with your gargle. Your toilet case saved his life, and he saved our lives with his torch. Your valet brought the young man here and, of course, he brought home everything that young gentleman had failed to make use of. I won't go bail for anything except the shaving block, though."

But no one was listening to P. J. Holler. Three pairs of gleaming eyes stared at the Buddha. That was what had saved them all!

But what could an oriental prophet expect in return for a miracle he had wrought? Not gratitude. As the parable tells us, he could not even expect that in his own country. They noted the fact that he had saved their lives by way of a miracle. Then - then they dashed it with all their might to the floor so that it broke into a thousand pieces.

Just as the aged convict had imagined in his dreams, the diamond sparkled out of the ruined statuette. They rubbed the clay from it and the diamond was revealed in all its fabulous beauty. Four pairs of eyes looked at it as if mesmerised, much as the late Jim Hogan had looked at it when Prince Radovsky handed it to him with a princely gesture.

13.

During the next twelve hours there were many urgent telephone calls to be made between Marrakesh, Paris and London. The military alliance between France and Britain rendered the matter as vital to the French authorities as it was to the British. As a result of these telephone calls, a certain member of the Legion by the name of Minister was declared by the medical officer to be unfit for military service because of his wound, and the legionary was demobilised forthwith. The very same day he flew to London, taking with him, in his attaché case, an orange-coloured envelope sealed with five seals.

Miss Evelyn Weston was front-page news in the French newspapers. She was their heroine. Miss Weston had risked her life to save a military document of such importance that if it had been lost it could not have been replaced. Pursued by the French police, she had evaded them that she might hand the document intact to the military authorities who could best deal with it. Miss Weston and Wilmington (who had since been killed) had provided evidence which had established the innocence of the unfortunate Lieutenant-Commander Brandon and cleared him of the charge of espionage.

It was Brandon who had been used by that same Wilmington who had been murdered in his Paris flat. All this had been endorsed by evidence taken from the dangerous spy Adams, who had been arrested in the Sahara. Miss Weston had produced witnesses and documentary evidence to prove that she had called at the deceased Wilmington's place in quest of her rightful legacy. A British Naval court-martial was meeting to examine the case of Lieutenant-Commander Brandon, who had voluntarily asked to have his case re-opened. It was confidently expected that as a result of the enquiry Brandon would be rehabilitated.

14.

Evelyn and Lord Bannister were hovering, somewhat irresolutely in a shady corner of the garden. For some time now they had been lingering there chatting idly and absent-mindedly.

Each was thinking of the other.

At last, Lord Bannister cleared his throat and spoke.

"Do you think you can forgive me?"

"I cannot."

She is paying me back in my own coin, he thought, and was at a loss what to say next.

"Can you remember by any chance," he went on at last, "the name of the village where I wanted to sleep that night? I would like to return the innkeeper's dressing-gown. He may be in need of it, poor fellow."

"You can give it to me. I can call in there on my way home. It's called La Roselle. I'm sure I'm not likely to forget the name."

"I say, why can't you forgive me? Such cold-heartedness is not becoming in a young lady, you know."

"I cannot possibly forgive you because you haven't offended me, Henry. Have I your permission to address you like that in Holler's absence?"

"I would much rather have you use my title... Ahem... What do you think? I think it's a bit cold out here. I mean to say..." His lordship was overcome with embarrassment. However, his embarrassment diminished when Evelyn placed both her hands on his shoulders. Then they looked wonderingly into each other's eyes.

15.

Eddy Rancing came off best among the participants of this adventure. Having sown his wild oats, he sobered down. First he was feted as the hero of Oasis Marbouk. Messrs. Harris & Crompton paid him five thousand pounds for an advertisement in which he told the world that he owed his life solely to the mildly aromatic Dandy gargle. ("Indispensable in deserts.") In another statement, Mr. Rancing eulogised the "high nutritive value of the Dandy Vitamin Cream."

He agreed to stay in Africa as Lord Bannister's private secretary, the most prudent decision of his life.

In the highways and byways of London, eyebrows were often raised at the approach of an impeccably dressed white-haired gentleman carrying a horsewhip and obviously searching for someone. This gentleman was looking for Edward Frederic George Henry Rancing, and his own name was Mr. Arthur (Bede Cecil David) Rancing. He had fled from Mügli am See, Switzerland one stormy night leaving his luggage behind; and Mrs. Grete Rancing (nee Wollishoff) was sitting, surrounded by her cats, hourly expecting his return.

16.

All were assembled at Lord Bannister's house in London. His lordship had returned with his young wife from their honeymoon barely twenty-four hours earlier. Among those present were the rehabilitated Lieutenant-Commander Brandon and Mrs. Weston. In the evening of her life, she had found perfect happiness. Also present was Mr. Marius Bradford, authoritative and sound of judgment as ever.

Everyone was agreed that Lady Evelyn was the loveliest wife in the world. Lord Bannister thought her even lovelier than that.

Again and again, they recounted every detail of the extraordinary adventure. They were at once cheerful and sad, but, as a matter of fact, very happy.

"Isn't it all strange?" said Mrs. Weston. "What a lot of links had to be forged before we could complete the chain of circumstance that has finally brought us here."

"And to what end?" the Lieutenant-Commander asked, meditatively. "Where is the philosopher who can answer that?"

"I am a medical man," Lord Bannister said, looking at Lady Evelyn. "But we have in our family an outstanding intellect and I'm sure you can have an answer to your question."

But Mr. Bradford took this as a reference to himself and answered slowly, weighing his words,

"Life is like the waistcoat of a summer suit - short and pointless."