Egypt -- Fiction; Mystery and detective stories; Short stories
In the first place, he lacked the accomplishment of writing and in
the second place his fear of the vengeance of Ismail had become a
veritable madness. I left him at Beni Suêf, filled with a
determination to probe this mystery for myself. Suitably prepared for
such an undertaking I set out alone from Dér Byâd, and undertook the
four days' journey which I had planned.
In a little gorge, arid, shadeless, in which only a few stunted
tamarisks grew, but affording a sort of hiding-place for myself and
my camel, I made my base of operations. Provisions of a sort I had
plenty, but for water I must depend on the secret oasis, which I
estimated to be not more than four miles distant. In the dead of night
I set out, making for a series of mounds or hillocks rising up from
the rocky face of the plateau. Cautiously I ascended their slopes,
ever watchful and with eagerly beating heart; and it was lying prone
upon the crest of the greatest of these that I first saw the village
and the oasis.
There was nothing extraordinary in the appearance of the village; it
presented to the eye the usual group of small, squat houses clinging
to the trunks of the palm trees and surrounding a shrine or mosque
boasting a wooden minaret. There were tilled fields and palm groves
to the left of the village and a large house surrounded by white walls
embracing extensive gardens. My spirits rose high. Within that house
lay the secret of Ismail.
I determined to approach from the left, where I should be able to
take advantage of the far-cast shadows of the palm groves and of
the direction of the faint breeze; for most of all I feared the dogs,
without which no Arab village is complete. Sure enough, although I
had elected to approach the left of the village and although I crawled
laboriously upon hands and knees, the accursed brutes apparently
scented me or heard me and made night hideous with their clamor.
Flat upon the ground I lay, awaiting the dogs who bore down upon me
snarling, their fangs bared. I had come prepared for this; but,
mysteriously, at a point by the end of the palm grove and some twenty
yards away from me, the pack halted, and after a time became silent.
This was unaccountable but fortunate; and after waiting a while longer
to learn if anyone had been aroused by the outcry, I advanced towards
the wall of the garden, passing stealthily from palm to palm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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