CHAPTER XXXI. A SPY'S STARTLING STORY.

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 venturesome. 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 régime 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.