A Spy's Startling Story

: The Great White Queen

WE remained fully two hours in the noisome Treasure-chamber of the

Sanoms, the early history of which was lost in the mist of legendary

lore, then after careful and minute examination of the rifled chests,

worked our way to the base of the shaft, and, having ascended, let down

the tiny concealed lever, thereby allowing the pressure to increase, and

place in position the ingenious contrivance for causing death to the

ve
turesome. Replacing the iron plate that closed the mouth of the

well-like aperture, we screwed it down, rendering it water-tight, and,

crossing the stones, regained the bank of the lake. Then, having turned

back the lever, the flood-gates slowly closed down again, and, ere we

mounted our horses to ride back to the city, the waters, fed by the many

torrents, had already risen sufficiently to hide the slime-covered

entrance to the secret chamber.



One of the greatest thefts in the world's history had been committed, and

the question that puzzled us was the identity of the thief. Our first

suspicions had fallen upon the Naya, but calmly discussing the question

as we rode back, we both became convinced that so critical was the

deposed ruler's position, that she would never have undertaken all the

risks in removing the treasure. She knew she was in deadly peril of her

life, and that every moment lost was of vital importance, therefore it

was hardly probable that she would have delayed her departure to secure

the wealth of her ancestors.



Omar argued that if compelled to fly she might have afterwards entrusted

the secret of the Treasure-house to spies, who could have returned and

secured the jewels. That she had not done this was certain, for the time

that had elapsed since her flight was insufficient.



I suggested that the detachment of Samory's men who had entered the city

during the revolt might have had knowledge of the secret and secured the

treasure, but Omar pointed out that none in Samory's camp could have been

aware of the means by which the place could be entered, Kouaga himself

being in ignorance.



"Then the thief was the Naya herself," I said, decisively.



"No; after all, I am not actually positive that such is the case," he

answered. "There are facts connected with the affair, trivial in

themselves, that lead me to believe otherwise."



"What are they?"



"One is that the wonderful ruby necklet, an ornament of matchless gems

that belonged to King Karmos and is one of the talismans of the Sanoms,

has been left. I found it flung aside and discarded. Had the Naya

committed the theft she would have secured this first of all, because of

our family tradition that no reigning Sanom can live longer than three

moons without it is in his or her possession."



"But you retain it," I said. "You, at least, are safe."



"Yes," he replied thoughtfully. "Yet if the Naya had intended to secure

the treasure for herself she would most certainly have taken this first

of all. It is one of the most historic and valuable ornaments of the

royal jewels of Mo, besides being one in which most superstition is

centred. In her flight she would entertain the bitterest ill-feeling

towards me and desire my rule to be brief. Therefore, she must have

stolen the necklet; she would have secured that, if nothing else."



I was compelled to agree with this view, especially as he added that one

of the most firm beliefs of the Sanoms had ever been that Zomara would

send vengeance most terrible upon any who removed the treasure from its

chests without the sanction of the people. No, it seemed evident that

some third person had been in possession of the secret. Who, we knew not,

but were determined to discover.



On returning to the palace I stood, as usual, beside the Emerald Throne

while its occupant gave audience to those who came to make obeisance and

offer congratulations. The Court of the Naba Omar was even more brilliant

than that of his mother had been, and at evening, under the bright

lights, was, indeed, a glittering assembly, where the gems worn by

officials and courtiers almost dazzled one's eyes by their profuseness.



Days passed--bright, peaceful days succeeding the brief period of

feverish excitement and deadly hatred. Mo had become herself again; her

people assured that an era of liberty and prosperity had recommenced, her

ruler leaving no effort unspared to act in the best interests of his

beloved nation. By day the great sunny courts of the palace, with the

bright flowers and fruit-laden vines, rang with the tramp of armed men

and tall, stately officials; by night the sounds of revelry, music and

dancing awakened the echoes of the great moon-lit colonnades, and was

wafted on the sweet-scented air afar beyond the grim, frowning outer

walls.



Yet the burden of kingship seemed to press heavily upon the young Naba.

Though wearing no diadem, his brow soon became furrowed, as if by its

weight, and his air was one of constant preoccupation. His change of

manner puzzled me. His mind appeared overshadowed by some gloomy

foreboding, the nature of which I could by no amount of cautious

questioning elicit. During each day he attended assiduously without

relaxation to affairs of state, and when night drew on and the inmates of

the great luxurious palace, a veritable city within a city, gave

themselves up to reckless enjoyment, he was seldom present, for he would

withdraw to one of his small private apartments, and there sit,

pretending to read, but in reality brooding in silence. One poignant

sorrow had transformed him from a bright, happy youth, to a man sad-eyed,

dull, morose. Sometimes, as I watched, I noticed how he would suddenly

sigh heavily, and set his teeth as a bitter relentless expression would

flit for an instant across his countenance, and I knew that at such

moments there entered into his heart the contemplation of a fierce and

terrible revenge.



Even to me, his constant companion, whose opinion he sought almost

hourly, he made no mention of his heart's sorrow, yet from close

observation through many days, I knew the cause of his overwhelming grief

was the loss of Liola. He never mentioned her, for the day after we had

ascertained the truth about her tragic end, he had taken me aside and

asked me never to allow her name to pass my lips in his presence.



"Memories are painful, you know, Scars," he had said. "I must try and

forget, try and live down my sorrow if I can, although I fear I shall

carry it with me to the grave."



These words I often remembered when, alone with him, I watched the look

of ineffable sadness upon his face. In the Hall of Audience, the centre

of his brilliant court, his face was always pleasant, smiling and full of

good-nature, as it had ever been; but, alas! it was only a mask, for

alone, in the privacy of his chamber, he cast it aside and gave himself

up to debauches of melancholy painful to behold.



Thus weeks lengthened into months. He had wished me to keep from the

people the great loss sustained by the robbery from the Treasure-house,

believing that in the circumstances silence was best, and I had not

breathed a word to a soul, not even to Kona or Goliba. The city had

resumed its old look of prosperity, its markets were crowded daily, and

its populace were content in the knowledge that under the reformed

regime they were free. Although once every week, Omar, with his court,

descended to the Temple of Zomara, and there adored the Crocodile-god,

human sacrifices had been discontinued, and the worship of the giant idol

was devoid of those revolting practices introduced by the Naya. Of the

latter, no tidings had been gleaned. Although every effort had been made

to trace her, she had disappeared. Of the treasure of the Sanoms, too,

nothing had been heard. How it had been conveyed out of Mo remained an

inscrutable mystery.



I confess to being astonished that Omar seldom, if ever, spoke of either

of these matters, which had at first so seriously agitated him. Whether

he had relinquished all thought of recovering the jewels collected by his

ancestors, or whether he was endeavouring to formulate some plan of

action I knew not, yet his unwillingness to speak of them was, to say the

least, noteworthy.



"Niaro has to-day returned from the gate of Mo," I observed one evening

when we were sitting alone together in one of the smaller courts, the

night air stirred by the distant sound of stringed instruments and the

thumping of Moorish tam-tams. "He has sent messengers by the Way of the

Thousand Steps far into the lands beyond, but no word have they been able

to gather regarding the Naya."



"She has escaped the mad vengeance of our people, who would have killed

her," he said, calmly. "For that I am thankful."



"You seem to have no desire that she should be captured," I said.



"None. She has escaped. After all it is best."



"But the treasure," I said, dropping my voice so that no eavesdropper

might overhear. "Its hiding place, like the thief, is still unknown."



"Yes," he answered. "Unknown at present, but ere long some discovery must

be made. When it is, I anticipate it will be a startling one."



Our conversation was interrupted at that moment by the approach of a

slave who, bowing low until his brow touched our carpet, said:



"One of thy servants, O Master, desireth to have speech with thee. He

hath sped from afar upon the wings of haste and beareth tidings."



"Of what?" cried Omar, starting up.



"I know not, O Master. The name of thy servant who awaiteth audience with

thee is Makhana, who cometh from beyond the great black water."



"Makhana!" we both cried, and Omar ordered that he should be admitted

immediately, and without ceremony. Then, turning to me, he explained that

on ascending the throne he had sent a message to Makhana in London

ordering him to return at once.



A moment later the secret agent of Mo, a tall, sparse figure, attired in

shabby European clothes, entered, and, snapping fingers with his master,

greeted and congratulated him. Then, casting himself upon the mat near

us, he began to tell us what had occurred after our flight from

Eastbourne, and relate the latest news from the civilised land we had

left so many months before. I also told him how we had been enticed away

by Kouaga, and the order of the Naya for Omar's assassination.



"Much has happened since I returned," Omar observed, when I had

concluded. "As you have no doubt already heard, my mother has been

deposed, and I have been enthroned in her stead."



"Yes," the secret agent answered. "I have already heard all this, and

although I wish you every peace and prosperity, I have, I regret, to make

a startling announcement."



"What is it?" gasped Omar, with wide-open eyes.



"Our enemy, Samory, is upon us!"



"Samory!" we both cried.



"Yes. Not much longer than a moon past I was crossing the mountains of



Niene, near the confines of his country, on my way hither from the sea,

and learnt the truth. Two moons ago, accompanied by twenty thousand armed

men, Kouaga marched out of Koussan to obtain savage allies for an

expedition, having for its object the conquest of Mo."



"The conquest of our country!" Omar cried astounded. "Only a week before

we returned hither one of his expeditions was utterly routed and

slaughtered in the Grave of Enemies. Now another has been dispatched!

What route has it taken?"



"On learning the news I at once reassumed native dress, crossed into our

enemy's country and acted as spy," Makhana answered, his fierce-looking

eyes glistening in the moonlight. "In Koussan I ascertained that the

expedition, led by Kouaga, the man who was once our Grand Vizier, had

gone northward one moon's journey towards the Niger, his intention being

to skirt the country of the Aribanda and to enter our territory from the

north by crossing the Hombori Mountains."



"You have done well to ascertain this and hasten on," Omar answered. "But

there is only one pass by which the Hombori can be crossed."



"That is known to Kouaga, for three years ago he led our army through it

to the successful conquest of the border tribes of the Massina. He is now

a formidable enemy, for he knows all the secret approaches and the

whereabouts of our hidden defences."



"We must dispatch an army at once to meet them," Omar said, after a

thoughtful pause.



"No time should be lost," Makhana urged. "Already they are due at the

Hombori, and it will occupy our expedition fully two weeks to reach

there. Yet Samory's hordes may be delayed, and if so, we shall be able to

hold the pass successfully and sweep them down as they advance. I have

brought with me from England the ten additional Maxims ordered by the

Naya."



"Excellent, let them be given into Kona's charge," Omar exclaimed,

explaining briefly that the Dagomba head-man was now in command of the

troops, and then turning to the slave who stood in waiting he ordered

that Kona should be fetched immediately, and that the council and

principal officers should be at once summoned.



In a few minutes we saw upon the clear night-sky long beams of light, and

knew that signals were being flashed from Mo to the furthermost limits of

the kingdom, summoning the officers from their various posts to a council

of war. Twenty thousand men, with a similar number of savage allies,

under a leader who was well acquainted with all the intricacies of the

secret way were advancing upon Mo, and the faces of the officers and

members of the council became grave when, on arrival at the palace, they

heard the astounding news.



That Mo was threatened by a serious calamity was recognized by everyone.

The news spread through the city quickly, and throughout the night the

streets were agog. Only by swift vigorous defence, by pushing a great

force forward night and day to the point of attack, could a catastrophe

be averted. This was the unanimous opinion of the Naba's advisers, and

ere the sun rose the first detachment of the defending army was already

on its way to meet the Arab invaders.



Kouaga evidently meant making a sudden descent upon the mysterious

country, and if his force once accomplished the passage through the

mountain pass they would then no doubt make a rapid dash towards the

capital itself, and would approach it at its only vulnerable point.



If this occurred, then the slaughter must be terrible and the catastrophe

complete.



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