Chapter III: Tells How Ezra Entered the House of Abdallah

“Rather an odd character, I should think,” mused the young New Englander as he rode along. “A soldier of fortune from his own account; and from my own observations, one ready enough to provide himself with anything that he lacked. But he seemed rather a good sort, for all,” with a laugh, “even if he did draw his blade on me and afterward cast reflections upon my wit. I’m sure if I saw more of him I’d come to like him.”

The pace was slow on account of the bad condition of the road; and gradually the sun slipped downward in the west. At length, in a gloomy, sunken place, Ezra came upon a forbidding-looking stream flowing into a shattered dam.

A treacherous-looking bridge of unstripped timber crossed it; and a little to the left was an abandoned mill with staring, empty windows; its broken roof was covered with green moss, a wheel hanging rotten and silent at its side.

“And some little way along I am to find a house by the roadside, am I?” said the lad as he looked about upon this sullen picture. “Well, it takes different tastes to make a world, of course; but I’d never have thought that any one would select a spot like this for a dwelling-place.”

Gingerly the bay picked its way across the bridge; the aged timbers swayed and groaned; through the open seams between the planks, the dark water could be seen flowing sluggishly along.

Just beyond the bridge the road took an abrupt bend; and as Ezra rounded this he found himself in sight of the house.

He had only time to note that it was two stories in height and that heavy shutters guarded all the windows, when there came a most tremendous barking of dogs. Lion-like, three enormous mastiffs leaped the low fence that ran about the house and rushed at horse and rider.

The bay reared, his nostrils widening and his eyes shining with fright. Ezra tightened the rein, spoke soothingly to him and at the same time reached for his holster pistol. With wide jaws the great beasts bounded forward; then came a sharp whistle and instantly they paused, growling, indeed, and with savage eyes, but advancing no farther.

From around one corner of the house came a man of commanding stature and remarkable appearance. He was attired in a long, loose, robe-like garment such as Ezra had seen in pictures of Eastern peoples. His head was entirely bald, though the face was smooth, unlined and gave few signs of age. His complexion was swarthy and his eyes singularly large, dark and gentle-looking.

“I ask your pardon, young sir,” said this strange-looking personage smoothly. “My poor beasts are a trifle unruly at times. But,” reassuringly, “believe me, there is no harm in them.”

Ezra looked down into the bloodshot eyes and formidable jaws of the brutes. He said nothing in answer to the man’s statement; but he held to his own opinion, nevertheless.

The man advanced to the fence, and Ezra noted that he wore no shoes. His feet were bound in sandals; also he was belted with a thick cord into which was stuck an ancient-looking, leather-covered book.

But the stranger’s most striking and noticeable feature was his soft gentleness of manner. Ezra felt this the moment his eyes rested upon the swarthy face; it were as though nothing could excite its owner to anger or intolerance. And yet, for all that, as the boy gazed at the strangely-clad one, that distinct feeling of repulsion came upon him which we feel in the presence of those whom we naturally distrust.

Here the man spoke to the dogs which still stood near at hand, growling and casting savage looks at Ezra.

“Blood,” said he, gently, “go in, brave dog. Death, away with you. Bones, be gone.”

The voice was soft, even purring; but the grisly names of the brutes caused Ezra to shudder.

Obediently the animals turned and leaped into the enclosure once more. And as they passed their master, Ezra noted that they crouched and fawned.

“Only beaten dogs do that,” thought the boy. Then, as he surveyed the man carefully, “I wonder just how much of this gentleness is real and how much assumed?”

As the mastiffs vanished behind the house, the man turned to Ezra once more.

“The road is seldom frequented,” said he, apologetically; “and so, poor beasts, they are not accustomed to travelers.” The soft, dark eyes examined Ezra with much attention; then the speaker went on, “I sincerely trust that you have taken neither harm nor offense.”

“Not in the least,” replied Ezra readily. “My horse was a bit startled; but that is all.”

Instantly the dark eyes went to the horse; its weary condition seemed to excite the stranger’s sympathy.

“You have ridden far?” said he, gently.

“From Cambridge,” replied Ezra. “But it has taken several days.”

“And you are going——?” Here the other paused with undoubted expectancy.

“Toward Chelmsford,” replied Ezra.

The man seemed baffled; he passed one hand over his shining bald head as though in meditation. But the singular dark eyes never left the boy’s face.

“This is rather an unusual way to select,” he said at last. “Rough and indirect.”

“Perhaps so,” said Ezra. “But I had some small matters of business hereabouts.”

An eager look came into the man’s face; he held up one hand with an inquiring gesture.

“You were to ask for some one?” said he.

“Yes. For a gentleman of the name of Abdallah.”

“I am he,” said the other humbly. “Abdallah—son of Hamid—a poor scholar, and a friend to all the world.”

Ezra took out the packet from the breast of his coat; riding close to the fence he gave it into Abdallah’s hands.

“I thank you,” said the man. “I had been expecting you for some days.”

His fingers pattered nervously upon the papers; it was plain to see that he was all eagerness to tear them open that he might come at their contents.

But he restrained himself; with calm eyes he looked at Ezra and said:

“Perhaps it was part of your instructions that you bear back any answer to these that might be necessary.”

Ezra hesitated for a moment. His first impulse was to make a plain statement of the facts, to tell him how he met Scarlett by the wayside, relate how the papers had been handed over to him, and why. But second thought prompted him to take advantage of the other’s mistake. What the lad had heard of Abdallah had interested him exceedingly. If there were anything unusual in his transactions, or anything against the public good, here was a most excellent opportunity of throwing a light upon the matter.

So, like a flash, he made up his mind.

“I was given no instructions by the gentleman who entrusted me with this errand,” said he, “save only that I was to hand the packet to you.”

Abdallah nodded his head.

“It is well to be careful. I have always approved of such a method,” spoke he.

The great dark eyes were fixed upon Ezra’s face; for all their gentleness, the boy fancied that he caught an element of speculation in them. But before he had time to note more, the man proceeded:

“I am a reader of faces and you have a faithful look. You are of the type that would be apt to do anything that he engaged to do.” He tapped the papers upon the palm of one hand for a moment, as though considering; then proceeded: “Will you carry the answer to the person who gave these?” And the eyes narrowed.

“He was an utter stranger to me,” said Ezra. “I would not know where to look for him.”

The man laughed softly and seemed satisfied.

“In matters like this,” said he, “it is not always wise to give names or addresses. It might prove inconvenient. However, it does not matter. I will so advise you as to the answer that you cannot well go astray.”

With that Ezra dismounted without more ado. Tying his horse to the gate-post, he followed the man through a low, wide doorway into the house.

The boy was open-eyed for something unusual. What he had heard of Abdallah, and, indeed, the man’s personal appearance, led him to be so; and he was not disappointed.

Without, the house was clumsy and ill-shaped, the product perhaps of an uncouth workman of past generations. It was also neglected, unpainted and weather-stained. The enclosure about it was yellow with the weeds of a summer before.

But within all was different. The shutters did not admit a ray of light; candles, set in queer twisted sconces of copper, burned behind rose-colored shades of glass. Large mirrors glittered upon the walls; the doorways were hung with rich draperies; a soft Turkey carpet and rich rugs were upon the floor. Several broad couches covered with crimson leather stood about.

And books were everywhere—upon shelves, upon tables and chairs; faded scrolls covered with strange Oriental characters were scattered about; queer manuscripts, musty and tattered, lay open to view where some one had been lately consulting them.

On a broad, brick hearth stood a small furnace with a leather bellows attached. Beside this were queer instruments and vessels of metal and glass at whose uses the boy could only guess.

“Be seated, I beg of you,” spoke Abdallah, with grave courtesy. “It is but a poor place to ask a guest; but to what there is, you are welcome indeed.”

Ezra sat down upon one of the couches. It was soft and extremely comforting to one who had been in the saddle since early morning. And as he sat, his eyes went about the apartment wonderingly.

The man noted this and smiled. Ezra hastened to say:

“I ask your pardon. But there is not, I will venture to say, such another place as this in all Massachusetts.”

Abdallah inclined his stately head gravely.

“No doubt you are right,” said he. “In this Western world the lore of the East is all but unknown.” He sighed and shook his head. “All is so new. The men, the customs, the very country. They have no leisure for employment of a deeper sort.”

Ezra looked at the speaker curiously.

“I have heard but little of the unusual sciences of the East,” said he, “and have read very little more. I have no doubt but that they are wonderful and interesting; and I am pleased to meet with a gentleman so learned in them.”

Abdallah made a gesture of protest.

“You give me too much credit,” said he, gravely. “I am but a poor scholar. ’Tis true that some of the mysteries of life have been made known to me. But that is all. I am a struggling student as yet, and cannot hope to be more until years of labor have been gone through.”

Glass vessels containing liquids stood upon a shelf. They were long necked and yet with squat, round bodies; their contents were of amber, purple, jade and other rich colors and they twinkled and flashed in the subdued light of the candles.

“You practice the art of healing, sir, I perceive,” suggested Ezra, looking at these.

But Abdallah shook his head.

“I am fairly well versed in the business of a leech,” he replied. “But I give but little time to it.”

Here Ezra caught an odd, muffled, lingering sound. It was low and indistinct. Thinking it was something outside—a bird, a small animal or such—he paid no attention to it. But at the same time he noticed a peculiar expression upon the face of Abdallah, and he also saw the look which the man flashed at him.

“To be a surgeon, or even an apothecary in such a lonely place, would profit mankind or myself very little,” proceeded the man in his usual tone of grave gentleness.

He smiled at the boy, who nodded a reply. Again the odd sound was repeated. It was murmurous and lingering, rising and falling in a measured sort of way.

“It is within the house,” Ezra told himself. “And it is the voice of some one in conversation.”

But he felt the dark eyes of the Oriental fixed upon him and his face never changed. The sound, apparently, was one that Abdallah would prefer to have unheard; so Ezra’s face held nothing but polite interest in the other’s remarks.

“I suppose you are quite right,” said the boy. “And so,” with the suspicions of the farmers well in mind, “you devote your time solely to the study of your philosophy?”

“Entirely so,” replied Abdallah, suavely. “It is a great science, and to get even the rudiments of it, one must spare neither one’s self nor time.”

Again came the murmurous sound. Whoever the talkers were, they seemed to be deep in some discussion. As Ezra watched he saw the habitually gentle look leave the eyes of the Oriental; the pleasant mouth tightened and grew hard, the long-fingered brown hands clenched.

“I will ask your pardon,” said Abdallah in his smooth voice. That he was filled with a bitter anger was plain; but he held himself wonderfully in control. He bent his head in a salaam of much dignity; then drawing aside some hangings that concealed a doorway, he disappeared.

Ezra settled back more comfortably into his easy seat.

“Master Abdallah evidently does not lead the lonely life that my friends of a short time ago supposed,” said he. “If these are not regular inmates of his house, they are persons over whom he professes some control; at least his manner said as much.”

There was a huge clock in the room that ticked with steady, solemn regularity. Now and then a candle sputtered or leaped behind its rose-colored shade. But these were the only sounds that Ezra heard.

“Whoever it was, he has silenced them,” smiled the boy. “Behind that soft manner, our friend has a temper of his own. I saw that from the first.”

But another moment proved that Abdallah’s was not the only temper in the house. Suddenly the silence was split by a heavy voice, thundering:

“What do you mean, sir? What do you mean by addressing me in that manner?”

A quick, excited murmur followed. Then the heavy voice was heard once more.

“I know we are in his house. I am perfectly aware of it. But that does not deprive me of the right to protect myself from impudence.”

Abdallah’s voice was then heard; but it was pitched so low that Ezra could not catch the words. After a moment the heavy voice came again.

“Of course, sir, that puts a different face upon the matter. But you should have warned us to moderate our tones. Remember, I am Major Buckstone of His Majesty’s Artillery, and I permit no man to hector me.”

“Hush-h-h-h!” came another voice. And then there was a silence.

“It seems that Major Buckstone is a person quite ready and competent to regulate his own affairs,” smiled the boy. Then his brows puckered thoughtfully as he continued: “And the fact that he is of His Majesty’s Artillery makes him a gentleman of whom I should take more than ordinary notice.”

On the whole, as he thought the situation over, all the persons concerned were of great interest to him and to the cause of the colonies. Here was a stranger, an Oriental, who received mysterious communications from equally mysterious horsemen. And here, also, were British officers making his house a place of resort and carrying on conversations which would not allow of being overheard.

“Decidedly,” said Ezra, “it has an interesting look. And I am quite pleased that I chanced to come this way and overtake Master Scarlett as I did.”

His thoughts had run this far when once again the mighty voice of Major Buckstone was heard.

“But, sir,” it cried, “I disagree with you. I utterly disagree with you. You may have your own ways of doing these things. If so, you are perfectly welcome to them. But I am a soldier, sir; an officer in His Majesty’s Artillery, and I am accustomed to do things in my own way.”

A soft protest followed, but the thunderous major cut it short.

“If this gentleman has been trusted thus far, he can be trusted further,” he declared. “Why should we remain concealed in the houses of our friends? It is preposterous!”

A sharp moving about of furniture followed as though some one had pushed back a heavy chair; then footsteps were heard, the hangings parted and a burly, red-faced man entered the room.