Read Online The Quest of Julian Day by Dennis Wheatley - Free Book Online Page A

dragoman during my three months’ stay in Egypt the previous winter.
    â€˜Welcome, Mr. Day, sir! Welcome!’ he was crying cheerfully.‘I come by train to-day from Cairo to be here to meet you.’
    How he could possibly have known that I was on my way out to Egypt again passes my comprehension. I have often heard stories of Indian bearers turning up in the same way to meet ships in which their old masters were returning but such a thing had never previously happened to myself. It is just one of the mysteries of the East that native servants do often travel many miles to be on the dock for the purpose of securing their old jobs; although how they receive the news that their former employer is on a particular ship is a thing that no European has ever fathomed.
    The second I saw Amin I realised that there was still a chance for me to keep in touch with O’Kieff. I had no doubt at all now that he had the tablet. Zakri Bey having come off to meet him and ensure his baggage immunity from inspection proved that, at all events to my satisfaction. Once he had the tablet ashore he could easily fake up some story to show that it had come into his possession after he had landed, So there was little hope of pinning the murder on him through it; but the tablet itself was of immense importance. The Belvilles would certainly have gone to the Captain that morning and insisted on O’Kieff’s cabin being searched if I hadn’t persuaded them not to. They would be as sick as mud when they learned that I had allowed him to get away with it. I knew that I stood no chance at all of getting it back forcibly from Zakri and his crew but now fate had given me an opportunity to follow them and see where they took it, that seemed the very least I could do.
    The Second Purser was still standing at the gap in the ship’s rail so I tapped him on the shoulder and said quickly: ‘That’s my old dragoman in the boat below there. I shan’t be a moment, but I want to fix things up with him.’
    Without waiting for his reply I pushed past him and, waving a greeting to Amin, ran down the ladder. As Amin’s boat came alongside I lowered my voice and muttered to him in Arabic, ‘You saw that launch go off just now? There may be trouble, as I am not supposed to leave the ship yet, but I want to follow it. Are you game to take me?’
    He glanced up at the Purser and nodded. ‘I am a Cairo guide, so the ship people do not know me. It shall be as youwish, my lord. Step in the boat, please.’
    Without further ado I jumped down beside him. He gave an order to his boatman and the motor purred.
    â€˜Hi! Come back, there!’ shouted the Purser. But I took no notice.
    â€˜Hi!’ he called again. ‘Come back at once! You’re not allowed to land without a permit! Come back there, or you’ll be in trouble with the police!’
    I turned and then cupping my hands, yelled back: ‘Don’t worry! I’ll attend to any formalities later. Ask Mr. Belville to see my baggage through the customs.’
    By that time we were fifty yards from the black bulk of the ‘Hampshire’. The Purser’s reply was drowned among the excited-murmur of the passengers near him and the shrill cries of the Arab hawkers in the crowd of boats alongside.
    Zakri Bey’s launch had a good quarter of a mile’s start of us and was heading for the harbour mouth, but we could see his lights quite clearly and, as our boat was a good one, I felt we had a decent prospect of keeping him in sight.
    â€˜How the deuce did you know that I was on my way back to Egypt?’ I asked Amin, as we settled down to the chase.
    He grinned at me in the darkness and shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘It was told to me that you were on this ship by old Mahmoud who reads the sands, and old Mahmoud never lies.’
    Knowing that every Arab is an inveterate believer in fortune-telling and has the sands read for