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"Right-oh," said Cairn calmly, and tossed his pouch across. "I want to talk to you about Ferrara." "Go ahead then. What is the matter with Ferrara?" "Well," replied Cairn, "he's queer." "That's no news," said Sime, filling his pipe; "we all know he's a queer chap. But he's popular with women. He'd make a fortune as a nerve specialist."
At the moment it is enough for me that, unless my information be at fault, Lady Lashmore yesterday left Cairo by the Luxor train at 8.30." Robert Cairn looked in a puzzled way at his father. "What do you suspect, sir?" he said. "I suspect that she went no further than Wasta," replied Dr. Cairn. "Still I do not understand," declared Sime. "You may understand later," was the answer.
Sime was unemotional, but there was concern in his voice and in his glance, for the change in Cairn was very startling. Although he knew something, if but very little, of certain happenings in London gruesome happenings centering around the man called Antony Ferrara he avoided any reference to them at the moment.
"Don't say anything of importance," he spelled out. "They have mikes in here to pick up all we say. Probably infra-red telenses too, so they can see what we do." So Sime told him, as they huddled together in simulated sleep, about the walled passages, and they speculated on the possibility of felling the guards and breaking their way to freedom through some underground cavern.
Sime's fist struck Murray's solid jaw, scraping the skin off his knuckles, but Murray swayed to the blow, sapping its force, and came in to clinch. They rolled on the floor. Murray twisted Sime's head painfully, bit his ear. But in the next split second he was whispering: "Keep your head, Sime. Can't you see I'm stringing him? Take that!" And he planted a vicious short hook to Sime's midriff.
Then, wedging his foot into a crevice a little below him, he reached out his hand to Sime. The latter, following much the same course as his companion, seized the extended hand, and soon found himself beside Dr. Cairn. Impetuously he snatched out his own lamp and shone its beams about the weird apartment in which they found themselves the so-called King's Chamber of the pyramid.
"All right, old man you'll do quite nicely now." It was Sime speaking. Cairn struggled upright ... and found himself in bed! Sime was seated beside him. "Don't talk!" said Sime, "you're in hospital! I'll do the talking; you listen. I saw you bolt out of Shepheard's last night shut up! I followed, but lost you.
He was gasping, as if nearly suffocated, but retained a wonderful self-control. Once over into the Borderland, and bravery assumes a new guise; the courage which can face physical danger undaunted, melts in the fires of the unknown. Sime, his breath whistling sibilantly between his clenched teeth, hauled himself through the low passage, with incredible speed.
'Wot for, then? 'Why, 'Arry's going ter tike me ter Chingford ter-morrer. 'Oh? In the "Red Lion" brake? 'Yus. Are you goin'? 'Na! 'Not! Well, why don't you get round Tom? 'E'll tike yer, and jolly glad 'e'll be, too. ''E arst me ter go with 'im, but I wouldn't. 'Swop me bob why not? 'I ain't keeping company with 'im. 'Yer might 'ave gone with 'im all the sime. 'Na.
"You have also omitted the possibility of Antony Ferrara," said Dr. Cairn. "Pardon my scepticism, doctor, but I cannot imagine any man voluntarily remaining in that awful place." "Yet I am greatly mistaken if he is not there!" "Then he is trapped!" said Sime grimly, examining a Browning pistol which he carried. "Unless "
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