The Mysterious Shin Shira | Page 7

of all,
even the Princess herself, should be mine.
"But now, alas! comes the sorrowful part, for, before the ceremony of
our marriage could be completed, I was doomed by the fairies to
disappear, and so I lost for ever my beautiful bride," and Shin Shira
gave a deep sigh. "The jewel though," he added, "remained mine, and I
have always worn it in the front of my turban in honour and memory of
the lovely Princess. You may like to see it," and Shin Shira reached up
to his head for the turban in which I had noticed the jewel sparkling
only a moment before.
It was gone!
"Dear me! I'm disappearing again myself, I'm afraid," said Shin Shira,
looking down at his legs, from which the feet had already vanished.
"Good-bye!" he had just time to call out, before he departed in a little
yellow flicker.
"Hi! Hi!" I heard voices shouting, and looking up to the cliffs I saw
some people waving frantically. "Come up quickly, or you'll be cut
off," they shouted.
And I hurried along the sands, only just in time, for I had been so
interested in Shin Shira's story that I had not noticed how the tide had
been creeping up. I shall have a good look at that jewel in Shin Shira's
turban next time I see him--and as for "the Bellows," I hardly know
which explanation to accept, Shin Shira's or that of the guide.

MYSTERY NO. III
THE MAGIC CARPET
It was just at the end of the school term, and I had received a letter from

my young cousin Lionel, who was at Marlborough, reminding me of
my promise that he should spend a part at least of his holidays with me.
"Mind you're at the station in time," he had said; "and, I say! please
don't call me Lionel if there are any of our fellows about, it sounds so
kiddish. Just call me Sutcliffe, and I'll call you sir--as you're so
old--like we do the masters. Oh yes! and there's something I want you
to buy for me, very particularly--it's for my study. I've got a study this
term, and I share it with a fellow named Gammage. He's an awfully
good egg!"
"What extraordinary language schoolboys do manage to get hold of," I
thought as I re-read the letter while bowling along in the cab on my
way to the station, which, a very few minutes later, came in sight, the
platform being crowded with parents, relatives and friends waiting to
meet the train by which so many Marlburians were travelling.
There was a shriek from an engine, and a rattle and clatter outside the
station, as the train, every window filled with boys' excited faces, came
dashing up to the platform.
"There's my people!" "There's Tom!" "Hi! hi! Here I am!" "There's the
pater with the trap!" "Hooray!" To the accompaniment of a babel of
cries like these, and amidst an excited scramble of half-wild schoolboys,
I at last discovered my small cousin.
"There he is!" he said, pointing me out to a young friend who was with
him; and coming up he hurriedly offered his hand.
"How are you, Sutcliffe?" I asked, remembering his letter.
"All right, thanks," he replied. "This is Gammage. I wanted to show
you to him. He wouldn't believe I had a cousin as old as you are. See,
Gammage?"
Gammage looked at me and nodded. "'Bye, Sutcliffe; good-bye, sir,"
said he, raising his hat to me and hurrying off to his "people."

"I say! don't forget the rug, Sutcliffe!" he bawled over his shoulder
before finally disappearing.
"Oh no! I say, sir! That's what I want to ask you about," said Sutcliffe,
scrambling into the taxi, and settling himself down with a little nod of
satisfaction.
"What?" I inquired, as we bowled out of the station.
"Why, a rug for my--our--study," said the boy. "Gammage has bought
no end of things to make our room comfortable, and they've sent me up
some pictures and chairs and things from home--and--it would be
awfully decent of you if you'd buy me a rug to put in front of the
fire-place. It's rather cheek to ask, but you generally give me something
when I come over to see you, and I arranged with Gammage to say I'd
rather have that than anything. What sort of a shop do you get rugs at?
Couldn't we get it on our way now, and then it would be done with? I
might forget to ask you about it later on."
"What sort of a rug do you want?" I asked, as the taxi turned into
Tottenham Court Road.
"Oh, I don't know, sir. Any sort of an ordinary kind of rug will do.
There's some in