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I returned my kit to the
placid donkey, thinking furiously, and then retraced my steps to
place both my palms on the turban of the shivering Arab and gazed
skyward, fortunately towards the east, as I later learned from Gray.

"Dancer, Prancer,
Donner, and Blitzen!" I intoned in a sepulchral voice, and then
removed my hands, clapped them once and smiled.

Jerk a toy from a baby
and laugh and he will laugh with you, for it is a game. Jerk it away
and scowl and he will cry, for he is being mistreated. It pays to
know how to handle children.

My intent audience all
chanted in Arabic and clustered round their comrade, clapping him on
the back as though he had just won the French Legion of Honor.

My patient, showing no
signs of indisposition from his bloodletting, seemed pleased.

"Aside from your
medical expertise, Doctor, your alarm may have prevented my wound
from being fatal. I trust our paths will cross again, for I am in
your debt."

He turned to bark orders
to his crew, a sinister-looking group really, and they set themselves
to work striking the tents and dragging off the body of the late
assailant. As I mounted my donkey, I found Gray regarding me
suspiciously.

"Doctor, you were
with Gordon, I presume?"

"No. Indian Army."
^*

"There are no Arabs
in India."

"But a great many
Mohammedans, Colonel. The Sikhs and Afghans among them."

Our journey back to
Cairo was made in silence. I don't think Gray could make me out.

^*
Actually,
Watson did not serve with the Indian Army. The Northumberland
Fusiliers were of the British Army stationed in India during the
Afghan war.

Chapter
Fourteen

The
Caesar Code

I had something to mull
over myself: an Arabian sheik, for such he had to be, speaking
impeccable English with an accent that made it odds-on that he was a
university graduate. What was he doing in the shadow of the
Sphinx—leading a scurvy crew of land pirates? But then
again, why not? Holmes had forecast a great meeting of Mohammedans in
the Mosque of al-Ashar. No doubt my patient had come from some
far-off oasis for just that gathering. I regretted that I had not
questioned him regarding his social calendar but shoved that thought
aside. Medical ethics, you know.

In our suite at
Shepheard's, I was happy to find Holmes and Orloff alone. Their mood
was a clue that their news was not reassuring, and such proved to be
the case.

"Things have gone
amiss, ol' chap. Chu's yacht arrived at Alexandria, but he is not
aboard."

"Good heavens,
Holmes!"

"They came by way
of Rosetta. Obviously slipped Chu ashore there, and even now he is
secreted aboard a native dhow making his way up the Nile Delta.
Certain members of the secret service feel very chagrined, which
helps us not a bit."

"But you are sure
he's coming to Cairo?"

"There is going to
be the great meeting we anticipated in the Mosque of al-Ashar in a
week. That's what Chu is here for."

Orloff was seated
upright in a chair, his weight balanced on the toes of his feet, his
hands resting in his lap. The man's ability to remain completely
motionless and relaxed was a source of wonderment to my medically
trained mind. It was as though he saved every ounce of strength for
those moments when it was needed. Possibly that was why he was able
to move so fast when he had to. Now he spoke.

"Then there is the
matter of the cable."

My eyes shot towards
Holmes questioningly, and he seemed to wince.

"The Hishouri Kamu
put in at Port Said. The coffin containing the corpse of Sidney Putz
remained aboard, but a certain crate did not. Burlington Bertie and
Tiny were not able to pursue the object, so we've lost that as well."

A horrible thought was
crossing my mind.

"Look here, you are
chiding yourselves for no reason. Chu suddenly altered his plans
regarding himself and the sword. Might not my little foray last
evening have been the reason? Certainly Loo Chan could have contacted
the freighter, and I'll wager Chu's yacht has wireless equipment
as well. The minute Chu learned we were in Cairo, he put an alternate
plan into operation."

"It's possible, you
know," said Orloff.

"There is an Arab
expression," responded the sleuth, "'All things are
possible in the caravan of life.' Now let us see what is possible for
us. We've had reports from the Intelligence people, the army, the
civil authorities; all more chaff than wheat. Chu will be in Cairo.
It is his plan that eludes me. I can't shake the idea that those
tablets might have contained a secret of the past. You were at the
pyramids today, Watson. How did they build them almost five thousand
years ago with nothing more than the lever, the roller, and vast
embankments?"

"Plus the flood
waters of the Nile to float the stone," added Orloff, "and
unlimited manpower."

"Wait!"
Surprisingly, it was my voice that rang out. "Gray told me
something interesting today. In the twelfth century, Saladin's son
had the notion to demolish the pyramids. He started with the Red
Pyramid of Mycerinus, which had a casing of Aswan granite. They had
the wheel and tools the Egyptians never dreamed of. Civilization had
advanced four thousand years."

"What is your
point?" asked Orloff.

"They couldn't do
it. The best they could manage was two blocks a day. Destruction is
easier than construction, but they couldn't tear it down."

At this point there was
a knock on our door, revealing Colonel Gray, whom I had just quoted.

"Mr. Holmes,"
he said respectfully, "there's a Chinaman, Loo Chan, who
requests permission to speak with you."

I had prepared myself a
small libation and now almost dropped the glass.

"He is alone, I
assume," said Sherlock Holmes, getting a nod in response. "By
all means have him come up . . . Wait!" The sleuth's added
thought caught Colonel Gray at the door. "He may be a messenger,
a role he has played in the past. If I see him to the door, have the
Oriental followed. If Dr. Watson shows him out, don't bother."

Gray's face brightened.
This was more to his taste. "I'll be standing by, sir."

Orloff was at the
sitting room windows, checking the street below out of habit.
Holmes's eyes, alight with interest, encountered mine.

"This may prove a
dividend from your nighttime excursion, ol' chap."

When Loo Chan was
ushered into the room, the habitual sheen on his face was no
more noticeable than at other times I had seen him. With a short,
courteous bow to each of us, he assumed a chair in a nerveless
fashion, a picture of Oriental calm. But he did not indulge in
flowery preambles, so often a trademark of his race. He did not
question the presence of Orloff, who was standing, watching him
closely.

"Mr. Holmes . . . I
need. . . ." Loo Chan took a quick breath, his only sign of
agitation, and began again. "I am in great need of something,
and I have something of interest."

"The one for the
other," was Holmes's rejoinder. My friend was seated with his
legs crossed, leaning on one arm of his chair and regarding the
visitor without antagonism or any other emotion for that matter. Loo
Chan nodded, and Holmes continued.

"Then let us deal
with your need first."

"There is an
'Orient Middle East' liner entering the Suez Canal, destination
Macao. I would like to be on it."

Holmes's eyes narrowed.
"You don't need me to buy you a ticket, I'm sure."

Loo Chan's heavy lids
blinked rapidly. "I do need you to get me out of Egypt.
Alexandria, Port Said, the canal are all . . . the expression is
'bottled up,' I believe. There is no warrant for me in England, but
had I tried to book passage I would have been in custody in a minute.
Something about my passport, no doubt."

Holmes shot a quick look
at Orloff. "He could be put aboard at Port Tewfik," said
the security agent.

"What you ask can
be done." Holmes let this hang in the air.

"I do not know, Mr.
Holmes, Chu San Fu's plans regarding Egypt. I could tell you
about the money he has spent of late in a number of Mid East
countries, but I suspect you know more about that than I do."

"One thing. In
Berlin. The Mannheim tablets?"

"I negotiated for
them. Another of those rare items that Chu San Fu added to his
collection."

"What happened?"

"He did not sell
them when he disposed of his collection. They were stolen property,
so he could not have put them on the market anyway. But he seemed to
attach great importance to them."

The sleuth appeared
disappointed. "You do have something?"

"I hope so."
The Oriental shrugged. "As you know, part of my duties were
associated with Chu San Fu's collection. There is a bit of guesswork
involved in art objects. I developed the habit of attending
estate sales and even disposal-of-property sales involving the
belongings of unknowns. If their background was colorful."

Holmes exhibited
interest as the Chinaman continued. "I picked up the notebook of
an explorer, Puzza, an Italian who had been with Giovanni
Balzoni in Egypt. It had entries regarding certain escapades of the
incredible Balzoni. One page contained letters without meaning
that Chu San Fu found intriguing. Then, two years ago, he referred to
it once as 'the gateway to the past.' The notebook has been by his
side ever since."

"You have it?"

"No, but I have a
copy of the strange message that my employer found so interesting."

"Which you will
give me if you can flee Egypt for Macao."

Loo Chan indicated this
was so. There was a lengthy pause, and the Oriental seemed to feel
the need of some explanation.

"Last night, Doctor
Watson used words that I had refused to consider. Now I agree with
him." His slanting eyes turned towards me. "It's time to
get out."

"Done," said
Holmes.

Loo Chan removed a piece
of paper from his inner pocket, passing it to the detective. After
regarding it for a moment, Holmes gave a signal to Orloff, who took
the Chinaman from the room and out of our lives. What the waiting
Colonel Gray thought of that arrangement, I did not learn until
later.

As the door closed, I
voiced a thought tentatively.

"This could be bait
of some sort?"

"No more than a ten
percent possibility." Holmes was studying the message. "Loo
Chan knows that if he has played us false, the Dutch authorities can
pick him up in Macao. I'm inclined to consider this coded message as
genuine. The timetable is right. It was two years ago that Chu's
attention was caught by it. An idea could have been born in his mind
at that time. One thing surprises me: the utter simplicity of the
code."

Holmes rose and spread
the paper on an end table, allowing me to view it by his side.

DW WKH IHHW RI WKH
VLALWK UDPHWHV OLHV WKH ERB LQ HWHUQDO HKVH XQNQRZQ WR NXUQD
DQGDOPDPXQ VRQ RI WKH KHUHWLF KHHYDGHGGRRP

"Simplicity,
Holmes? You jest."

"This cipher might
present problems but for the spacing, which is revealing. Consider
the first line. There are seven combinations of letters. Six in the
second line. We can assume they represent words."

"I don't see how
that helps."

"Regard the same
two lines, old fellow. There are three identical three-letter
combinations. WKH. Surely that indicates the word 'the' to you.
Three letters and oft-used. I can almost decipher this standing here,
but let me hazard a guess. This associate of Balzoni—"

"Puzza was his
name."

"Also an Italian. I
assume this is a substitution cipher. One letter in place of another.
Now if you were an Italian and were going to put something in code,
playing a game with yourself perhaps, is it not reasonable that you
should think of a Roman hero like the first Caesar?"

Not being able to
interpret the thoughts of others with Holmes's facility, I didn't
know what I would have done.