Queen Sheba's Ring Read online

  We are now in the middle of June, and it was a year ago last Decemberthat, on the evening of the day of my arrival in London after an absenceof half a lifetime, I found myself knocking at the door of ProfessorHiggs's rooms in Guildford Street, W.C. It was opened by hishousekeeper, Mrs. Reid, a thin and saturnine old woman, who reminded andstill reminds me of a reanimated mummy. She told me that the Professorwas in, but had a gentleman to dinner, and suggested sourly that Ishould call again the next morning. With difficulty I persuaded her atlast to inform her master that an old Egyptian friend had brought himsomething which he certainly would like to see.

  Five minutes later I groped my way into Higgs's sitting-room, which Mrs.Reid had contented herself with indicating from a lower floor. It is alarge room, running the whole width of the house, divided into two byan arch, where once, in the Georgian days, there had been folding doors.The place was in shadow, except for the firelight, which shone upon atable laid ready for dinner, and upon an extraordinary collection ofantiquities, including a couple of mummies with gold faces arranged intheir coffins against the wall. At the far end of the room, however, anelectric lamp was alight in the bow-window hanging over another tablecovered with books, and by it I saw my host, whom I had not met fortwenty years, although until I vanished into the desert we frequentlycorresponded, and with him the friend who had come to dinner.

  First, I will describe Higgs, who, I may state, is admitted, even by hisenemies, to be one of the most learned antiquarians and greatest mastersof dead languages in Europe, though this no one would guess from hisappearance at the age of about forty-five. In build short and stout,face round and high-coloured, hair and beard of a fiery red, eyes,when they can be seen--for generally he wears a pair of large bluespectacles--small and of an indefinite hue, but sharp as needles. Dressso untidy, peculiar, and worn that it is said the police invariablyrequest him to move on, should he loiter in the streets at night. Suchwas, and is, the outward seeming of my dearest friend, Professor PtolemyHiggs, and I only hope that he won't be offended when he sees it setdown in black and white.

  That of his companion who was seated at the table, his chin resting onhis hand, listening to some erudite discourse with a rather distractedair, was extraordinarily different, especially by contrast. A tallwell-made young man, rather thin, but broad-shouldered, and apparentlyfive or six and twenty years of age. Face clean-cut--so much so, indeed,that the dark eyes alone relieved it from a suspicion of hardness; hairshort and straight, like the eyes, brown; expression that of a man ofthought and ability, and, when he smiled, singularly pleasant. Such was,and is, Captain Oliver Orme, who, by the way, I should explain, is onlya captain of some volunteer engineers, although, in fact, a very ablesoldier, as was proved in the South African War, whence he had then butlately returned.

  I ought to add also that he gave me the impression of a man not inlove with fortune, or rather of one with whom fortune was not in love;indeed, his young face seemed distinctly sad. Perhaps it was this thatattracted me to him so much from the first moment that my eyes fell onhim--me with whom fortune had also been out of love for many years.

  While I stood contemplating this pair, Higgs, looking up from thepapyrus or whatever it might be that he was reading (I gathered laterthat he had spent the afternoon in unrolling a mummy, and was studyingits spoils), caught sight of me standing in the shadow.

  "Who the devil are you?" he exclaimed in a shrill and strident voice,for it acquires that quality when he is angry or alarmed, "and what areyou doing in my room?"

  "Steady," said his companion; "your housekeeper told you that somefriend of yours had come to call."

  "Oh, yes, so she did, only I can't remember any friend with a face andbeard like a goat. Advance, friend, and all's well."

  So I stepped into the shining circle of the electric light and haltedagain.

  "Who is it? Who is it?" muttered Higgs. "The face is the face of--of--Ihave it--of old Adams, only he's been dead these ten years. The Khalifagot him, they said. Antique shade of the long-lost Adams, please be sogood as to tell me your name, for we waste time over a useless mystery."

  "There is no need, Higgs, since it is in your mouth already. Well, Ishould have known you anywhere; but then _your_ hair doesn't go white."

  "Not it; too much colouring matter; direct result of a sanguinedisposition. Well, Adams--for Adams you must be--I am really delightedto see you, especially as you never answered some questions in my lastletter as to where you got those First Dynasty scarabs, of which thegenuineness, I may tell you, has been disputed by certain enviousbeasts. Adams, my dear old fellow, welcome a thousand times"--and heseized my hands and wrung them, adding, as his eye fell upon a ring Iwore, "Why, what's that? Something quite unusual. But never mind; youshall tell me after dinner. Let me introduce you to my friend, CaptainOrme, a very decent scholar of Arabic, with a quite elementary knowledgeof Egyptology."

  "_Mr._ Orme," interrupted the younger man, bowing to me.

  "Oh, well, Mr. or Captain, whichever you like. He means that he is notin the regular army, although he has been all through the Boer War, andwounded three times, once straight through the lungs. Here's the soup.Mrs. Reid, lay another place. I am dreadfully hungry; nothing gives mesuch an appetite as unrolling mummies; it involves so much intellectualwear and tear, in addition to the physical labour. Eat, man, eat. Wewill talk afterwards."

  So we ate, Higgs largely, for his appetite was always excellent, perhapsbecause he was then practically a teetotaller; Mr. Orme very moderately,and I as becomes a person who has lived for months at a time ondates--mainly of vegetables, which, with fruits, form my principaldiet--that is, if these are available, for at a pinch I can exist onanything.

  When the meal was finished and our glasses had been filled with port,Higgs helped himself to water, lit the large meerschaum pipe he alwayssmokes, and pushed round the tobacco-jar which had once served as asepulchural urn for the heart of an old Egyptian.

  "Now, Adams," he said when we also had filled our pipes, "tell us whathas brought you back from the Shades. In short, your story, man, yourstory."

  I drew the ring he had noticed off my hand, a thick band of ratherlight-coloured gold of a size such as an ordinary woman might wear uponher first or second finger, in which was set a splendid slab ofsapphire engraved with curious and archaic characters. Pointing to thesecharacters, I asked Higgs if he could read them.

  "Read them? Of course," he answered, producing a magnifying glass."Can't you? No, I remember; you never were good at anything more thanfifty years old. Hullo! this is early Hebrew. Ah! I've got it," and heread:

  "'The gift of Solomon the ruler--no, the Great One--of Israel, Belovedof Jah, to Maqueda of Sheba-land, Queen, Daughter of Kings, Child ofWisdom, Beautiful.'

  "That's the writing on your ring, Adams--a really magnificent thing.'Queen of Sheba--Bath-Melachim, Daughter of Kings,' with our old friendSolomon chucked in. Splendid, quite splendid!"--and he touched the goldwith his tongue, and tested it with his teeth. "Hum--where did you getthis intelligent fraud from, Adams?"

  "Oh!" I answered, laughing, "the usual thing, of course. I bought itfrom a donkey-boy in Cairo for about thirty shillings."

  "Indeed," he replied suspiciously. "I should have thought the stone init was worth more than that, although, of course, it may be nothingbut glass. The engraving, too, is first-rate. Adams," he added withseverity, "you are trying to hoax us, but let me tell you what I thoughtyou knew by this time--that you can't take in Ptolemy Higgs. Thisring is a shameless swindle; but who did the Hebrew on it? He's a goodscholar, anyway."

  "Don't know," I answered; "wasn't aware till now that it was Hebrew. Totell you the truth, I thought it was old Egyptian. All I do know isthat it was given, or rather lent, to me by a lady whose title is WaldaNagasta, and who is supposed to be a descendant of Solomon and the Queenof Sheba."

  Higgs took up the ring and looked at it again; then, as though in a fitof abstraction, slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

 
; "I don't want to be rude, therefore I will not contradict you," heanswered with a kind of groan, "or, indeed, say anything except thatif any one else had spun me that yarn I should have told him he wasa common liar. But, of course, as every schoolboy knows, WaldaNagasta--that is, Child of Kings in Ethiopic--is much the same asBath-Melachim--that is, Daughter of Kings in Hebrew."

  Here Captain Orme burst out laughing, and remarked, "It is easy to seewhy you are not altogether popular in the antiquarian world, Higgs. Yourmethods of controversy are those of a savage with a stone axe."

  "If you only open your mouth to show your ignorance, Oliver, you hadbetter keep it shut. The men who carried stone axes had advanced farbeyond the state of savagery. But I suggest that you had bettergive Doctor Adams a chance of telling his story, after which you cancriticize."

  "Perhaps Captain Orme does not wish to be bored with it," I said,whereon he answered at once:

  "On the contrary, I should like to hear it very much--that is, if youare willing to confide in me as well as in Higgs."

  I reflected a moment, since, to tell the truth, for sundry reasons, myintention had been to trust no one except the Professor, whom I knew tobe as faithful as he is rough. Yet some instinct prompted me to makean exception in favour of this Captain Orme. I liked the man; there wassomething about those brown eyes of his that appealed to me. Also itstruck me as odd that he should happen to be present on this occasion,for I have always held that there is nothing casual or accidental in theworld; that even the most trivial circumstances are either ordained,or the result of the workings of some inexorable law whereof the endis known by whatever power may direct our steps, though it be not yetdeclared.

  "Certainly I am willing," I answered; "your face and your friendshipwith the Professor are passport enough for me. Only I must ask youto give me your word of honour that without my leave you will repeatnothing of what I am about to tell you."

  "Of course," he answered, whereon Higgs broke in:

  "There, that will do; you don't want us both to kiss the Book, do you?Who sold you that ring, and where have you been for the last dozenyears, and whence do you come now?"

  "I have been a prisoner of the Khalifa's among other things. I had fiveyears of that entertainment of which my back would give some evidenceif I were to strip. I think I am about the only man who never embracedIslam whom they allowed to live, and that was because I am a doctor,and, therefore, a useful person. The rest of the time I have spentwandering about the North African deserts looking for my son, Roderick.You remember the boy, or should, for you are his godfather, and I usedto send you photographs of him as a little chap."

  "Of course, of course," said the Professor in a new tone; "I came acrossa Christmas letter from him the other day. But, my dear Adams, whathappened? I never heard."

  "He went up the river to shoot crocodiles against my orders, when he wasabout twelve years old--not very long after his mother's death, and somewandering Mahdi tribesmen kidnapped him and sold him as a slave. I havebeen looking for him ever since, for the poor boy was passed on fromtribe to tribe, among which his skill as a musician enabled me to followhim. The Arabs call him the Singer of Egypt, because of his wonderfulvoice, and it seems that he has learned to play upon their nativeinstruments."

  "And now where is he?" asked Higgs, as one who feared the answer.

  "He is, or was, a favourite slave among a barbarous, half-negroid peoplecalled the Fung, who dwell in the far interior of North Central Africa.After the fall of the Khalifa I followed him there; it took me severalyears. Some Bedouin were making an expedition to trade with these Fung,and I disguised myself as one of them.

  "On a certain night we camped at the foot of a valley outside a greatwall which encloses the holy place where their idol is. I rode up tothis wall and, through the open gateway, heard some one with a beautifultenor voice singing in English. What he sang was a hymn that I hadtaught my son. It begins:

  'Abide with me, fast falls the eventide.'

  "I knew the voice again. I dismounted and slipped through the gateway,and presently came to an open space, where a young man sat singing upona sort of raised bench with lamps on either side of him, and a largeaudience in front. I saw his face and, notwithstanding the turban whichhe wore and his Eastern robe--yes, and the passage of all those years--Iknew it for that of my son. Some spirit of madness entered into me, andI called aloud, 'Roderick, Roderick!' and he started up, staring abouthim wildly. The audience started up also, and one of them caught sightof me lurking in the shadow.

  "With a howl of rage, for I had desecrated their sanctuary, they sprangat me. To save my life, coward that I was, I fled back through thegates. Yes, after all those years of seeking, still I fled rather thandie, and though I was wounded with a spear and stones, managed to reachand spring upon my horse. Then, as I was headed off from our camp,I galloped away anywhere, still to save my miserable life from thosesavages, so strongly is the instinct of self-preservation implantedin us. From a distance I looked back and saw by the light of the firedtents that the Fung were attacking the Arabs with whom I had travelled,I suppose because they thought them parties to the sacrilege. AfterwardsI heard that they killed them every one, poor men, but I escaped, whounwittingly had brought their fate upon them.

  "On and on I galloped up a steep road. I remember hearing lions roaringround me in the darkness. I remember one of them springing upon myhorse and the poor beast's scream. Then I remember no more till I foundmyself--I believe it was a week or so later--lying on the verandah ofa nice house, and being attended by some good-looking women of anAbyssinian cast of countenance."

  "Sounds rather like one of the lost tribes of Israel," remarked Higgssarcastically, puffing at his big meerschaum.

  "Yes, something of that sort. The details I will give you later. Themain facts are that these people who picked me up outside their gatesare called Abati, live in a town called Mur, and allege themselves tobe descended from a tribe of Abyssinian Jews who were driven out andmigrated to this place four or five centuries ago. Briefly, theylook something like Jews, practise a very debased form of the Jewishreligion, are civilized and clever after a fashion, but in the laststage of decadence from interbreeding--about nine thousand men is theirtotal fighting force, although three or four generations ago they hadtwenty thousand--and live in hourly terror of extermination by thesurrounding Fung, who hold them in hereditary hate as the possessorsof the wonderful mountain fortress that once belonged to theirforefathers."

  "Gibraltar and Spain over again," suggested Orme.

  "Yes, with this difference--that the position is reversed, the Abati ofthis Central African Gibraltar are decaying, and the Fung, who answer tothe Spaniards, are vigorous and increasing."

  "Well, what happened?" asked the Professor.

  "Nothing particular. I tried to persuade these Abati to organize anexpedition to rescue my son, but they laughed in my face. By degreesI found out that there was only one person among them who was worthanything at all, and she happened to be their hereditary ruler who borethe high-sounding titles of Walda Nagasta, or Child of Kings, and TaklaWarda, or Bud of the Rose, a very handsome and spirited young woman,whose personal name is Maqueda----"

  "One of the names of the first known Queens of Sheba," muttered Higgs;"the other was Belchis."

  "Under pretence of attending her medically," I went on, "for otherwisetheir wretched etiquette would scarcely have allowed me access to one soexalted, I talked things over with her. She told me that the idol ofthe Fung is fashioned like a huge sphinx, or so I gathered from herdescription of the thing, for I have never seen it."

  "What!" exclaimed Higgs, jumping up, "a sphinx in North Central Africa!Well, after all, why not? Some of the earlier Pharaohs are said to havehad dealings with that part of the world, or even to have migrated fromit. I think that the Makreezi repeats the legend. I suppose that it isram-headed."

  "She told me also," I continued, "that they have a tradition, or rathera belief, which amounts to an article of faith
, that if this sphinxor god, which, by the way, is lion, not ram-headed, and is calledHarmac----"

  "Harmac!" interrupted Higgs again. "That is one of the names of thesphinx--Harmachis, god of dawn."

  "If this god," I repeated, "should be destroyed, the nation of the Fung,whose forefathers fashioned it as they say, must move away from thatcountry across the great river which lies to the south. I have forgottenits name at the moment, but I think it must be a branch of the Nile.

  "I suggested to her that, in the circumstances, her people had bettertry to destroy the idol. Maqueda laughed and said it was impossible,since the thing was the size of a small mountain, adding that the Abatihad long ago lost all courage and enterprise, and were content to sit intheir fertile and mountain-ringed land, feeding themselves with tales ofdeparted grandeur and struggling for rank and high-sounding titles, tillthe day of doom overtook them.

  "I inquired whether she were also content, and she replied, 'Certainlynot'; but what could she do to regenerate her people, she who wasnothing but a woman, and the last of an endless line of rulers?

  "'Rid me of the Fung,' she added passionately, 'and I will give yousuch a reward as you never dreamed. The old cave-city yonder is full oftreasure that was buried with its ancient kings long before we came toMur. To us it is useless, since we have none to trade with, but I haveheard that the peoples of the outside world worship gold.'

  "'I do not want gold,' I answered; 'I want to rescue my son who is aprisoner yonder.'

  "'Then,' said the Child of Kings, 'you must begin by helping us todestroy the idol of the Fung. Are there no means by which this can bedone?'

  "'There are means,' I replied, and I tried to explain to her theproperties of dynamite and of other more powerful explosives.

  "'Go to your own land,' she exclaimed eagerly, 'and return with thatstuff and two or three who can manage it, and I swear to them all thewealth of Mur. Thus only can you win my help to save your son.'"

  "Well, what was the end?" asked Captain Orme.

  "This: They gave me some gold and an escort with camels which wereliterally lowered down a secret path in the mountains so as to avoid theFung, who ring them in and of whom they are terribly afraid. With thesepeople I crossed the desert to Assouan in safety, a journey of manyweeks, where I left them encamped about sixteen days ago, bidding themawait my return. I arrived in England this morning, and as soon as Icould ascertain that you still lived, and your address, from a book ofreference called _Who's Who_, which they gave me in the hotel, I came onhere."

  "Why did you come to me? What do you want me to do?" asked theProfessor.

  "I came to you, Higgs, because I know how deeply you are interestedin anything antiquarian, and because I wished to give you the firstopportunity, not only of winning wealth, but also of becoming famous asthe discoverer of the most wonderful relics of antiquity that are leftin the world."

  "With a very good chance of getting my throat cut thrown in," grumbledHiggs.

  "As to what I want you to do," I went on, "I want you to find someonewho understands explosives, and will undertake the business of blowingup the Fung idol."

  "Well, that's easy enough, anyhow," said the Professor, pointing toCaptain Orme with the bowl of his pipe, and adding, "he is an engineerby education, a soldier and a very fair chemist; also he knows Arabicand was brought up in Egypt as a boy--just the man for the job if hewill go."

  I reflected a moment, then, obeying some sort of instinct, looked up andasked:

  "Will you, Captain Orme, if terms can be arranged?"

  "Yesterday," he replied, colouring a little, "I should have answered,'Certainly not.' To-day I answer that I am prepared to consider thematter--that is, if Higgs will go too, and you can enlighten me oncertain points. But I warn you that I am only an amateur in the threetrades that the Professor has mentioned, though, it is true, one withsome experience."

  "Would it be rude to inquire, Captain Orme, why twenty-four hours havemade such a difference in your views and plans?"

  "Not rude, only awkward," he replied, colouring again, this time moredeeply. "Still, as it is best to be frank, I will tell you. YesterdayI believed myself to be the inheritor of a very large fortune from anuncle whose fatal illness brought me back from South Africa before Imeant to come, and as whose heir I have been brought up. To-day I havelearned for the first time that he married secretly, last year, a womanmuch below him in rank, and has left a child, who, of course, will takeall his property, as he died intestate. But that is not all. Yesterday Ibelieved myself to be engaged to be married; to-day I am undeceivedupon that point also. The lady," he added with some bitterness, "whowas willing to marry Anthony Orme's heir is no longer willing to marryOliver Orme, whose total possessions amount to under L10,000. Well,small blame to her or to her relations, whichever it may be, especiallyas I understand that she has a better alliance in view. Certainly herdecision has simplified matters," and he rose and walked to the otherend of the room.

  "Shocking business," whispered Higgs; "been infamously treated," andhe proceeded to express his opinion of the lady concerned, of herrelatives, and of the late Anthony Orme, shipowner, in language that,if printed, would render this history unfit for family reading. Theoutspokenness of Professor Higgs is well known in the antiquarian world,so there is no need for me to enlarge upon it.

  "What I do not exactly understand, Adams," he added in a loud voice,seeing that Orme had turned again, "and what I think we should both liketo know, is _your_ exact object in making these proposals."

  "I am afraid I have explained myself badly. I thought I had made itclear that I have only one object--to attempt the rescue of my son,if he still lives, as I believe he does. Higgs, put yourself in myposition. Imagine yourself with nothing and no one left to care forexcept a single child, and that child stolen away from you by savages.Imagine yourself, after years of search, hearing his very voice, seeinghis very face, adult now, but the same, the thing you had dreamed of anddesired for years; that for which you would have given a thousand livesif you could have had time to think. And then the rush of the howling,fantastic mob, the breakdown of courage, of love, of everything thatis noble under the pressure of primaeval instinct, which has but onesong--Save your life. Lastly, imagine this coward saved, dwelling withina few miles of the son whom he had deserted, and yet utterly unable torescue or even to communicate with him because of the poltroonery ofthose among whom he had refuged."

  "Well," grunted Higgs, "I have imagined all that high-faluting lot. Whatof it? If you mean that you are to blame, I don't agree with you.You wouldn't have helped your son by getting your own throat cut, andperhaps his also."

  "I don't know," I answered. "I have brooded over the thing so long thatit seems to me that I have disgraced myself. Well, there came a chance,and I took it. This lady, Walda Nagasta, or Maqueda, who, I think,had also brooded over things, made me an offer--I fancy without theknowledge or consent of her Council. 'Help me,' she said, 'and I willhelp you. Save my people, and I will try to save your son. I can pay foryour services and those of any whom you may bring with you.'

  "I answered that it was hopeless, as no one would believe the tale,whereon she drew from her finger the throne-ring or State signet whichyou have in your pocket, Higgs, saying: 'My mothers have worn this sincethe days of Maqueda, Queen of Sheba. If there are learned men among yourpeople they will read her name upon it and know that I speak no lie.Take it as a token, and take also enough of our gold to buy the stuffswhereof you speak, which hide fires that can throw mountains skyward,and the services of skilled and trusty men who are masters of the stuff,two or three of them only, for more cannot be transported across thedesert, and come back to save your son and me.' That's all the story,Higgs. Will you take the business on, or shall I try elsewhere? You mustmake up your mind, because I have no time to lose, if I am to get intoMur again before the rains."

  "Got any of that gold you spoke of about you?" asked the Professor.

  I drew a skin bag from the pocket of my
coat, and poured some out uponthe table, which he examined carefully.

  "Ring money," he said presently, "might be Anglo-Saxon, might beanything; date absolutely uncertain, but from its appearance I shouldsay slightly alloyed with silver; yes, there is a bit which hasoxydized--undoubtedly old, that."

  Then he produced the signet from his pocket, and examined the ring andthe stone very carefully through a powerful glass.

  "Seems all right," he said, "and although I have been greened in mytime, I don't make many mistakes nowadays. What do you say, Adams? Musthave it back? A sacred trust! Only lent to you! All right, take it byall means. _I_ don't want the thing. Well, it is a risky job, and if anyone else had proposed it to me, I'd have told him to go to--Mur. But,Adams, my boy, you saved my life once, and never sent in a bill, becauseI was hard up, and I haven't forgotten that. Also things are pretty hotfor me here just now over a certain controversy of which I supposeyou haven't heard in Central Africa. I think I'll go. What do you say,Oliver?"

  "Oh!" said Captain Orme, waking up from a reverie, "if you aresatisfied, I am. It doesn't matter to me where I go."