The Lost Valley of Iskander | Page 8

onto a
corridor, and the corridor, he believed, gave onto an outer door. The
people of Attalus apparently did not find it necessary to safeguard their
dwellings. But though a native could sleep in safety, that might not
apply to a stranger.
Finally Gordon drew aside the couch which formed the main piece of
furniture for the chamber, and making sure no spying eyes were on him,
he worked loose one of the small stone blocks which composed the
wall. Taking the silk-bound packet from his shirt, he thrust it into the
aperture, pushed back the stone as far as it would go, and replaced the
couch.
Stretching himself, then, upon the couch, he fell to evolving plans for
escape with his life and those papers which meant so much to peace of
Asia. He was safe enough in the valley, but he knew Hunyadi would
wait for him outside with the patience of a cobra. He could not stay
here forever. He would scale the cliffs some dark night and bolt for it.
Hunyadi would undoubtedly have all the tribes in the hills after him,
but he would trust to luck and his good right arm, as he had so often
before. The wine he had drunk was potent. Weariness after the long
flight weighted his limbs. Gordon's meditations merged into dream. He
slept deeply and long.
IV. The Duel with Ptolemy the Kind
WHEN GORDON AWOKE he was in utter darkness. He knew that he
had slept for many hours, and night had fallen. Silence reigned over the
house, but he had been awakened by the soft swish of the curtains over
the doorway.
He sat up on his couch and asked: "Is that you, Bardylis?"
A voice grunted, "Yes." Even as he was electrified by the realization

that the voice was not that of Bardylis, something crashed down on his
head, and a deeper blackness, shot with fire-sparks, engulfed him.
When he regained consciousness, a torch dazzled his eyes, and in its
glow he saw three men—burly, yellow-haired men of Attalus with
faces more stupid and brutish than any he had yet seen. He was lying
on a stone slab in a bare chamber, whose crumbling, cob-webbed walls
were vaguely illumined by the gutturing torch. His arms were bound,
but not his legs. The sound of a door opening made him crane his neck,
and he saw a stooped, vulture-like figure enter the room. It was
Abdullah, the Tajik.
He looked down on the American with his rat-like features twisted in a
venomous grin.
"Low lies the terrible El Borak!" he taunted. "Fool! I knew you the
instant I saw you in the palace of Ptolemy."
"You have no feud with me," growled Gordon.
"A friend of mine has," answered the Tajik. "That is nothing to me, but
it shall gain me profit. It is true you have never harmed me, but I have
always feared you. So when I saw you in the city, I gathered my goods
and hastened to depart, not knowing what you did here. But beyond the
pass I met the Feringhi Hunyadi, and he asked me if I had seen you in
the valley of Iskander whither you had fled to escape him. I answered
that I had, and he urged me to help him steal into the valley and take
from you certain documents he said you stole from him.
"But I refused, knowing that these Attalan devils would kill me if I
tried to smuggle a stranger into Iskander, and Hunyadi went back into
the hills with his four Turks, and the horde of ragged Afghans he has
made his friends and allies. When he had gone I returned to the valley,
telling the guardsmen at the pass that I feared the Pathans.
"I persuaded these three men to aid me in capturing you. None will
know what became of you, and Ptolemy will not trouble himself about
you, because he is jealous of your strength. It is an old tradition that the

king of Attalus must be the strongest man in the city. Ptolemy would
have killed you himself, in time. But I will attend to that. I do not wish
to have you on my trail, after I have taken from you the papers Hunyadi
wishes. He shall have them ultimately—if he is willing to pay
enough!" He laughed, a high, cackling laugh, and turned to the stolid
Attalans. "Did you search him?"
"We found nothing," a giant rumbled.
Abdullah tck-tck'ed his teeth in annoyance.
"You do not know how to search a Feringhi. Here, I will do it myself."
He ran a practiced hand over his captive, scowling as his search was
unrewarded. He tried to feel under the American's armpits, but
Gordon's arms were bound so closely