Treasure Hunt Tales: The Star of the South & Captain Antifer. Жюль Верн

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      The notary, abashed for an instant, gradually recovered his coolness. Evidently this confounded sailor knew of what importance this letter was to the heirs of Kamylk. In fact, did it not contain the information necessary in the search for the treasure? The scheme for getting possession of it had failed. Antifer was on his guard. The latter must be bought, or rather the latitude which would complete the longitude, which Ben Omar knew.

      But, it may be asked, how did Ben Omar know that Antifer had the letter? Was he the former notary of the rich Egyptian? Was he the messenger instructed by the last wishes of Kamylk to bring Antifer the longitude in question? That we shall soon see.

      In any case, whether Ben Omar was or was not acting under the orders of the Pasha’s heirs, he clearly understood that the letter would not be handed over without its price in gold.

      But fifty millions!

      Assuming a sly, coaxing air, he said, “I think you said fifty millions?”

      “I did.”

      “That is one of the funniest things I ever heard in all my life.”

      “Mr. Ben Omar, would you like to hear a funnier?”

      “Gladly.”

      “Ah! Well then, you are an old thief, an old scoundrel from Egypt, an old crocodile of the Nile—”

      “Sir!”

      “There, I will stop. You are an old fisher in troubled waters, wanting to get at my secret instead of telling me yours, which is the only mission you were entrusted with—”

      “You suppose so.”

      “I suppose what is.”

      “No. What it pleases you to imagine.”

      “Enough, you consummate fool!”

      “Sir!”

      “I withdraw the consummate—out of deference. And shall I tell you what you really want to know about the letter?”

      Did the notary imagine that Antifer was going to commit himself? Anyhow, his two little eyes glowed like carbuncles as he waited.

      “What you want to know, Ben Omar, is not what the letter says regarding the services rendered by my father. No! You want the four figures—you understand me well enough, the four figures—”

      “The four figures?” murmured Ben Omar.

      “Yes, the four figures it contains, and which I shall not hand over for less than twelve and a half millions each! That is all. We have said enough! Good morning!”

      And sticking his hands into his pockets, Captain Antifer strode off, whistling a favourite air, of which nobody, not even himself, knew the origin, and which was more like the howling of a dog than any of the melodies of Auber.

      Ben Omar, petrified, seemed to have taken root on the spot, as if he were a bollard or a mile-post. He who had reckoned twirling this sailor round his finger as if he were a fellah—and Mahomet knows how he had dealt with the unfortunate peasants whose ill-fortune had led them to his office, one of the best in Alexandria!

      He saw, with haggard eye, the sailor going farther and farther away from him, swinging his hips, hoisting his shoulders, first one and then the other, and gesticulating as if his friend Tregomain was with him under the usual fire.

      Suddenly Antifer stopped. Had he encountered an obstacle? Yes! This obstacle was an idea that had just occurred to him. He had forgotten something.

      He returned to the notary, who still was as motionless as Daphne when she was turned into a laurel-bush, to the great disappointment of Apollo.

      “Mr. Ben Omar?” he said.

      “What is it you want?”

      “There is one thing I forgot to shout in your ear.”

      “What?”

      “The number—”

      “Ah! The number?”

      “Yes! The number of my house—3, Rue des Hautes Salles. You may as well have my address, and know that you will have a friendly reception when you come—”

      “When I come?”

      “With the fifty millions in your pocket!”

      And Antifer went off again, while the notary sank and called on Allah and his Prophet.

      CHAPTER VII.

       Table of Contents

      DURING the night of the 9th of February the travellers at the Hotel de l’Union would have run some risk of being troubled in their sleep if the door of Room No. 17 had not been shut, and draped with a heavy curtain, which prevented any noise from being heard outside.

      In fact two men, or rather one of the two therein, spent the night in recriminations and menaces that bore witness to extreme irritation, while the other tried in vain to calm him, with supplications engendered by fear.

      It is not likely that anybody would have understood what this stormy conversation was about, for it was held in Turkish, which is not a familiar language to the natives of the West.

      A large wood fire blazed in the grate, and a candle on the table threw its light on to certain papers half-hidden within the pockets of a portfolio much worn by use.

      One of these men was Ben Omar, who, in a helpless way, looked at the flames in the fire-place, which were far less ardent than those that blazed in the eyes of his companion.

      This companion was the unprepossessing foreigner, to whom the notary had given the almost imperceptible signal, while he and Antifer were talking at the end of the harbour.

      For the twentieth time this personage remarked,—

      “And so you have failed?”

      “Yes, Excellency, and Allah is my witness—”

      “I have nothing to do with the evidence of Allah or of anybody else! There is the fact—you failed.”

      “To my great regret.”

      “This Antifer refused to give up the letter?”

      “He did.”

      “And he refused to sell it?”

      “To sell it! He consented—”

      “And СКАЧАТЬ