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Authors: Dennis Wheatley

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BOOK: The Quest of Julian Day
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‘What is the meaning of all this?' and switching round I saw Oonas standing there, gripping a large automatic in a small but very steady hand.

8
The Tomb of the Bulls

The last thing I wanted was a bullet in the back and Oonas was holding the gun as though she were no stranger to it. From my very short acquaintance with her I had already decided that she was an extremely dangerous young woman and, knowing of her association with Zakri and O'Kieff, I had not the least doubt that she would shoot me if I attempted to draw my own weapon.

She was standing on the landing at the top of the stairs; too far above me for there to be any chance of my making a spring and grabbing her pistol. On the other hand, I felt that if I could only get down among the little crowd in the hall she would hesitate to fire there, unless she were a remarkably good shot, for fear of hitting one of her servants.

‘What is happening here?' she asked sharply, raising her voice to a higher pitch.

Clarissa leapt into the breach most nobly. From the open doorway she pointed at Lemming:

‘This poor fellow has had too much to drink at the McPhersons' party. We were taking him home, but he insisted on stopping here for a moment because he says he's in love with you. The next thing we knew was that he'd pulled off half his clothes and was trying to batter in your door.'

‘That's right,' Harry supported her. ‘We tried to stop him but he'd rung the bell before we had a chance to get up the steps. We're frightfully sorry you've been troubled.'

Lemming swung round on him indignantly. ‘You liar! It was your friend who lured me into that blasted car and …'

He got no further. I had been keeping a watchful eye on Oonas and she had turned her glance away from me to the others who were shouting at her from the hall. As Lemming
swung round on Harry, I dived right on to him from the fifth stair.

We went down with an appalling bump but he broke my fall and I managed to retain my hold on the precious package.

Once again Clarissa acted with really splendid speed and decision. I had hardly launched myself on Lemming before she had spun on her heel and was pushing the little mob of curious onlookers clear of the door. Harry remained standing inside it just long enough to see me scramble to my feet, then he rushed to her assistance. One of the Egyptian boys flung himself in my path but I had my head well down, for fears Oonas should still take a flying shot at me, and it caught him in the ribs sending him spinning backwards.

The balloon-like major-domo was standing there with his little-pudgy hands raised to his shoulders, squealing in excited Arabic; but I gave him one shove with my free hand and dashed out on to the steps.

I must say that our driver proved a game fellow. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the night's work and the moment the fracas started he had legged it for his car to get the engine started. It was already roaring and Harry was hurriedly pushing Clarissa back into the cab as I came charging out of the house. The onlookers made an ineffectual attempt to stop me but I flung myself after my friends, tripped on the step, and landed up with my head buried in Clarissa's frilly Columbine skirts.

The people on the pavement were yelling ‘Thieves! Murder! Help!' in a variety of languages and down the road I could hear a police whistle shrilling wildly; next second we were off.

By the time I had disengaged my head from between Clarissa's shapely legs, contacting, I fear, more of her delightful person than was strictly according to propriety, we were racing down the road and the shouting was dying away in the distance.

‘Phew!' Harry pulled up his bald clown's pate of pink buckram and commenced to mop his painted brow. ‘That was a near thing. We heard the car drive up but I never spotted Lemming until he was half-way up those steps.'

‘Anyhow, you've got the tablet back,' I panted, patting the package cheerfully. ‘But that young woman's a handful. I
think she regards herself as Cleopatra brought up-to-date. I've never run across such a perfect example of the vamp, and she darned near hypnotised me into forgetting what I'd come for. That's why I was such a long time.'

‘Really, Julian,' Clarissa said with mock severity, ‘I'm surprised at you.'

‘You don't know me,' I smiled. ‘I pride myself on being a bit of an artist where that sort of thing is concerned, and I don't believe in rushing my fences.'

She shook her head. ‘Tell that to the Marines, my dear. That girl's a bad hat if ever there was one; and you're as dark a horse as one would meet in a day's march, yourself. I wouldn't trust the two of you together for five minutes, let alone for three-quarters of an hour in the middle of the night.'

‘But, darling, he's never met her until an hour ago,' Harry argued solemnly in my defence; upon which both Clarissa and I went off into roars of laughter.

We were still laughing when the cab pulled up which, perhaps, was a good thing as it may have helped to reassure our driver that we really were only practical-jokers out on the spree after the McPhersons' dance.

‘Where to now, boss?' he asked, and that brought us up with a jerk. A pink flush in the sky to eastward already heralded the dawn and I had to find somewhere to snatch a few hours' sleep. It was impossible for me to go to the Cecil with Harry and Clarissa or to any of the other hotels, as my description was certain to have been circulated by the police and, even in my Red Indian disguise, I should arouse suspicion if I tried to get a room without so much as a toothbrush by way of luggage.

After a moment I had an inspiration and told the man to drive us down to the Arab cemetery. I knew from my previous visit to Alexandria that the place I wanted was somewhere thereabouts and in any case I did not want him to drop me actually
at it. Immediately we set off again I said to the others:

‘Look, here, I've found out from Cleopatra that Zakri is staying in Alexandria for the time being, but that O'Kieff is going to Cairo on the three o'clock express tomorrow. He doesn't want to take the tablet along with him in his baggage. The scheme was for Lemming, who is travelling on the same train but separately, to take it. Unfortunately, though, they've already photographed the stone so we've failed in our attempt to prevent them learning its secret.'

‘In that case, we've had all this excitement for nothing,' interrupted Clarissa.

‘Hardly,' I protested. ‘Having got the tablet back we can get a translation done of it ourselves and now that we're in touch with O'Kieff's gang we may be able to land something on him. To be honest, although I'm game to do everything I can to help you in your treasure-hunt, my main objective is to get O'Kieff ten years without the option, if not something worse.'

‘What do you suggest doing now, then?' Harry asked.

‘Apparently they've got some tame occultist in Cairo named Fergani, and the idea is that Lemming should hand the tablet over to him so that he can try his psychic powers on it, presumably without knowing what it is. I suppose they hope that if he does his stuff properly they may get a check-up from a completely different angle as to the whereabouts of the treasure.'

‘What childish nonsense!' exclaimed Clarissa. ‘Fancy grown men believing in such stupid things. O'Kieff and Co. go down with a wallop as high-power crooks in my estimation after that.'

‘Not at all.' I disagreed. ‘There's much more in this occult business than most people realise, and as every Egyptian believes in it, for them it's the sensible thing to do. Still, that's beside the point. We know O'Kieff's leaving for Cairo on the three o'clock train tomorrow so, providing I'm not caught by the police in the meantime, I shall go on the same train and follow him up when he gets there.'

‘That's all right,' Harry agreed. ‘But what d'you mean to do for the next nine hours?'

‘Get some sleep in a place many people might not care about; but fortunately my nerves are pretty good.'

‘And where's that?'

‘The Serapeum, where they used to bury the Sacred Bulls. As there's nothing in it that anybody can steal there won't be any guardians of the place about until it's opened to the public. It means sleeping hard but that can't be helped. Directly you've dropped me, you two had better return to the Cecil and get some sleep yourselves. Amin is going to call on you for orders, as though he were a dragoman engaged by you, at nine o'clock.'

‘Gawd!' murmured Harry miserably. ‘That only leaves us about two hours' sleep. It's well after six o'clock now.'

‘Sorry,' I said. ‘But that's about all I'll get myself.'

He nodded. ‘Anyway, the police told me before we left the Cecil to pick you up that Sir Walter's funeral would be round about eleven and I'll have to be on hand for that.'

‘When Amin turns up,' I went on, ‘tell him to buy me another set of clothes. European this time, but shabby, poor quality, second-hand stuff like you see the Greek workmen wearing here. Immediately he's done that, he's to bring the outfit along to me at the Serapeum, with some sort of snack for breakfast and something with which I can get this dark colour off my hands and face. You've already got your reservations on the three o'clock train for Cairo. I have, too, but I shan't be able to use mine as I shall be travelling second-class. Where are you putting up when you get there?'

‘The Semiramis,' replied Clarissa. ‘Sir Walter said it was the most comfortable.'

‘And he was right,' I agreed, ‘for anyone who doesn't mind paying the price. It's far and away the best hotel in Egypt. You'll be splendidly looked after there and I'll communicate with you through Amin as soon as I get a chance.'

A couple of minutes later we pulled up at the Arab cemetery, upon which I paid the driver lavishly and told him to take them to the Cecil. They wished me luck and I watched the taxi rattle away down the empty street.

As it had dropped me at the north end of the cemetery I had the whole length of the Rue de la Colonne Pompée to walk in order to reach the big piece of waste ground which lies to the south of the cemetery. In its centre there is a great, raised mound of rubble, overgrown with grass, at the summit
of which rises a single tall column known as Pompey's Pillar, although actually it is believed to be the last standing relic of a temple erected by the Emperor Diocletian.

The whole site has been enclosed in comparatively recent times by the Department which deals with the preservation of Ancient Monuments as there have been discovered under the mound some large, man-made caves in which the Sacred Bulls of Serapis were buried; and during the daytime batches of tourists are now taken round the enclosure at so much a head.

The native population of the locality was already stirring but there was little traffic about yet and, after a glance up and down the street, I managed to scramble over the high fence without being spotted. Nearly a year had elapsed since I had visited the place so I was a little uncertain of my direction as I pressed forward through the knee-high undergrowth. But the dawn was now breaking and as soon as I had scrambled up on to the high ground where the tall pillar stood I was able to get my bearings.

Another couple of hundred yards down the far side of the slope brought me to the edge of a railed pit about twenty yards square and fifteen feet deep; a rickety wooden stairway led down to its bottom, where the entrance of one of the great caves showed as a dim archway in the still uncertain light.

There was nothing gruesome about the place; no heaps of mouldering bones, human skulls or pieces of rotting mummy-cloth such as I should have encountered in the catacombs which lie a little further to the south. It was just a large, dry, empty cave hewn out of sandstone, and the ghosts of the long-dead bulls, if they lingered there, had no terrors for me. Striking a match now and again I penetrated the cave for about a hundred yards and, scooping myself a hollow for my hip in the loose sand of the floor, I lay down and fell instantly asleep.

Having only had about three hours' sleep the night before and none at all for the last twenty-four hours, I should normally have slept on until any time. But there is a sort of sixth sense which warns the hunted when they are in a precarious situation, and it must have been this, I think, which caused me to wake before the first batch of tourists were brought in to see the tombs. Lighting a match I saw by my wrist-watch that it was a quarter-past nine. I had no idea what time the place was
opened to the public but assumed that it would be fairly soon I could hardly hope that Amin would arrive before ten-thirty, at the earliest, as he would have quite a lot of shopping to do after having received his instructions from Harry. But fortunately for me, the antiquities of Alexandria are counted small game compared with the magnificent remains in the Nile Valley, so comparatively few tourists ever bother to visit them, and I hoped to be able to avoid any that might put in an appearance.

My three hours' sleep had only taken the edge off my fatigue. I had a beastly taste in my mouth and the usual mouldy feeling which follows having been up all night and then slept hard. The thought that the police were after me, too, was anything but cheering, and I was in a far from happy state as I made my way out of the cave and climbed the rickety stairs to the edge of the pit.

No one was about and I was on the side of the enclosure which overlooks the cemetery and, further off, the flimsy, stucco buildings of the modern town. Selecting a spot some distance from the pit where I could keep watch on its entrance without much likelihood of being seen, I sat down between two huge broken blocks of stone half-overgrown with nettles. One of the guardians of the place arrived with four sightseers shortly afterwards, but I was well outside their line of vision and they came and went without a glance in my direction. From that time on other couples or groups were taken down to see the Tombs of the Bulls at intervals that averaged about twenty minutes. It was not until nearly half-past eleven that Amin's tall figure approached the pit.

BOOK: The Quest of Julian Day
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