The Old Tobacco Shop

CHAPTER XXI

SHIRAZ THE RUG-MERCHANT

The wayfarers came to a halt before the Wanderers' Gate. The wall of the city stood before them, and stretched away to a great distance on either hand. People were going in and out at the gate; some on foot, driving donkeys before them, some on horseback, some in wagons, and all brisk and talkative. The Third Vice-President received a respectful greeting from several of those on horseback. He turned to his companions with a wave of the hand, and said:

"The Wanderers' Bazaar!"

On each side of the open gate, at the foot of the high thick wall, was what appeared to be a fair. As far as the eye could see, the base of the wall was lined with booths, each with an awning over it from the wall behind, gaily striped in orange and blue and yellow and brown. In these booths was spread out in disorderly profusion a mass of merchandise of all kinds; gold and silver ornaments, brass and copper vessels, rugs and carpets, spectacles and clocks, toys and games, herbs and ointments, fish-nets and sailors' instruments, canes and crutches, ribbons and laces, perfumery, precious stones – things innumerable; even parrots and monkeys, in cages; in one booth was a potter, twirling his potter's wheel; in another a fortune-teller, laying little sticks down in curious patterns on his table; in another a man pasting on cards bits of coloured feathers, in the form of tiny birds and fowls, most life-like; in another a glass-blower, delicately twining a thread of spun glass for the rigging of a ship; in another a man sitting on a rug with a snake before him, whose flat head stood stiffly up from his coil, and waved a little to the motion of his master's finger; in another, a man was bending over a flower-pot with a wand in his hand, and as he moved the wand a stalk grew from the pot and at its end a bud appeared and unfolded into a flower before the very eyes of his audience; in another a great ape was marking down figures with chalk as his master called them; in another a shuttle was weaving back and forth in a loom; there seemed to be no end to the curious and diverting things to be seen in those booths. The people in them were apparently of all the nations of the earth; there were brown men and yellow men and black men, as well as white; men with slant eyes, with round eyes, with flat noses, with beak-noses, with wooly hair, with straight hair; there were turbans, and fezzes, and hoods, and white gowns, and coloured robes, and velvet jackets, and cotton blouses; and from all the venders rose such a hubbub as Freddie had never in his life heard before, except once in the Gaunt Street Theatre at home. A lively crowd chaffered with the venders and walked in the paved street before their booths. It was a scene full of life and colour, and Freddie was transported with delight.

"Oh!" he said, "can't we get down here and see all those sights? I should like to spend the whole day here!"

"We've got other fish to fry just now, Freddie," said Toby. "We'll have to see this some other time."

"It is a precious thought," said the Sly Old Fox, "that we have here with us on our mules enough treasure to buy this whole bazaar, if we wished to do it. It is a beautiful thought."

"Six 'undred paces to the right!" said Mr. Punch.

"Shiraz the Rug-Merchant!" said Toby. "By the looks of it, there must be about five hundred rug-merchants along there."

"What was the number we were to find him by?" said Aunt Amanda.

"It's 3103101," said Toby.

"You are quite mistaken," said Mr. Punch. "Hit's 3013101."

"That's exactly what I said," said Toby.

"Excuse me," said the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg, "it seems to me that it is – er – 3101301."

"My recollection is," said the Churchwarden, "that it is 3031010."

"I am sorry to differ," said the Sly Old Codger, "but I am perfectly sure it is 3013010."

"Why don't you look at the paper?" said Aunt Amanda, in an exasperated tone.

Everyone looked at everyone else to produce the paper, but no one produced it.

"I regret to confess it," said the Third Vice-President, placidly, "but I have a distinct recollection of having left it on the table at Low Dudgeon. Never mind, it is perfectly safe."

"Well!" said Aunt Amanda. "Isn't that a perfect shame! Whatever are we going to do? And where's the map? Freddie, have you got the map?"

Freddie looked in all his pockets. "No'm," said he. "It isn't here."

"I recall distinctly," said the Third Vice-President, without any sign of worry, "that the map was left on the table at Low Dudgeon with the other paper."

"Merciful fathers!" exclaimed Aunt Amanda. "And you've left the map behind too! I never yet see a man that had a head on him worth a – Now listen to me; is there anyone that remembers the words the paper said we had to say to the – "

"Ah! madam," said the Third Vice-President. "There I can be of assistance, I fancy. The words are derived from the Persian, and I am accordingly familiar with them. 'Shagli Jamshid Shahriman.' Am I right, gentlemen?"

The Daft Committee nodded their heads in assent.

"Then I see no reason," said the Third Vice-President, "why we should not proceed."

"Come on then," said Toby. "I'll get down and pace off the six hundred steps, and see where we come to."

The party moved slowly through the crowd, along the booths, while Toby walked beside them, carefully counting his steps.

"Five hundred and eighty," said he. "Five hundred and ninety. Ninety-five. Six hundred"; and stopped. The procession stopped also, and all of the riders got down from their mules. Many of the passers-by gazed curiously at them, and some paused for a moment before going on; but no one seemed to take more than a passing interest. One of the Committee led the mules to the open side of the street, where they would be out of the way, and stood guard over them. The others joined Toby in front of the booth at which he was now standing.

It was not the kind of booth they were seeking at all. There were no rugs nor carpets of any kind; only clocks and watches, a great number of them, and a few sundials and hour-glasses. Behind the counter stood a lad of about twenty, very dark of skin, with snapping black eyes and shining white teeth which showed as he now bowed and smiled; a white turban on his head, and a loose white robe hanging from his shoulders. He was slim and sleek, and his fingers were very long and delicate. He rubbed his hands together as the riders dismounted, and commenced to chatter to them in an unknown tongue, bowing and smiling the while. His wares were displayed about him on shelves and boxes and tables, as well as on the counter, and the clocks and watches, as usual in such places, showed all hours of the twelve. A striped awning of orange and blue, fastened at the rear to the side of the city wall, shielded him and his booth from the sun. Behind him in the wall was a closed iron door.

"We're in the wrong shop," said Toby to his companions. "Some mistake. Anyway, here goes." And addressing the young man behind the counter, he said: "Good-afternoon. We are looking for Mr. Shiraz the Rug-Merchant. This don't look much like a rug shop, but maybe you can tell us. Shiraz; that's his name."

"No understand," said the young man, rubbing his hands and bowing pleasantly.

"Shiraz," said Toby. "Think. Shiraz. Easy word, Shiraz. You understand?"

"Clocks and watches," said the young man. "Sundials. You buy?"

"No, no," said Toby. "We no buy. Want Shiraz. Confound it, that's an easy word, ain't it? Shiraz! Can't you understand that?"

"No sell Shiraz," said the young man. "Clocks and watches."

"Look here," said Toby, "what's the number of this place?"

"No number," said the young man, looking puzzled and shaking his head. "Clocks and watches."

"By crackey," said Toby, "we're in the wrong place sure enough."

Now while this talk was going on, Freddie had made a discovery. He had noticed, on a box at the rear, against the wall, a row of seven old clocks. They were battered and broken, and were evidently long since out of repair; two of them had no hands. Like most of the clocks in the place, they were stopped, and had probably, from the looks of them, ceased many years before to keep time. He noted idly the time shown by each of these clocks, and started in surprise. The hour shown by the first clock at the left was three o'clock. That shown by the next was one o'clock. The next had no hands, and showed no time at all. The next showed one o'clock, the next three o'clock, the next one o'clock, and the seventh had no hands. He ran his eye over them again, and the numbers which resulted were 3101310.

"Come along," said Toby. "We might as well ask at some of these other shops. There ain't no use wasting time here."

He moved away, and the others followed him towards the adjoining booth. The teeth of the dark young man shone white, and he bowed politely to the departing strangers.

Freddie pulled at Toby's coat, and whispered in his ear. Toby listened, and without a word led the party back to the booth.

"Now see here, young feller," said he, "I've got your number, and I don't want no nonsense. I reckon you can understand numbers, if you can't understand anything else." He fixed his eyes on the row of old clocks at the rear. "Listen to this, my young friend: 3-1-0-1-3-1-0."

The smile left the young man's face. He seemed a trifle uneasy. His long fingers rested on the counter, and he leaned forward intently.

"No understand," said he.

"By crackey," said Toby, "this beats all. Where's Shiraz? We're in the right place, and we want Shiraz. Out with him!"

"Clocks and watches," said the young man, but this time somewhat nervously. "You buy?"

"Buy nothing!" cried Toby. "We want to see Shiraz the Rug-Merchant. Professor," said he, turning round, "what's the words to bring out Shiraz the Rug-Merchant?"

"Shagli Jamshid Shahriman!" said the Third Vice-President, in a loud voice.

Instantly the manner of the young man changed. Crossing his arms upon his breast, he made a low salaam, and spoke with the utmost deference.

"I trust you will pardon," said he, "my seeming lack of courtesy. It is necessary to exercise a certain caution. There are wicked spirits, assuming from time to time the most unlikely forms, who seek to gain access to my great-great-grandfather. His life is continually in danger, for he possesses secrets which enable him constantly to interfere with their designs. By reason of this danger, he was obliged many years ago to retire from the rug business, and he has lived ever since in deep seclusion. It is your wish to see Shiraz the Persian?"

"You seem to speak English pretty good," said Toby.

"Perfectly, my lord. And twelve other tongues as well. You desire to see my great-great-grandfather?"

"That's the exact idea," said Toby.

"Then I will beg your indulgence for a few moments."

The young man bowed again, and disappeared through the doorway in the wall, closing the door behind him. After a considerable absence he returned.

"If you will follow me," said he, "I will conduct you to my great-great-grandfather."

"We will await your return here," said the Third Vice-President to Toby and his companions. "It is unnecessary for us to pursue this adventure further."

The Third Vice-President and his friends returned to the mules, and the others followed the young man to the door behind him in the wall. The door was closed and locked behind them, and they found themselves in darkness. "If you will come to me here," said the voice of the young man, a little in advance, "I will show you the way down." When they felt themselves near him, they heard his voice again. "Be good enough to step carefully forward, until you feel the first step of a descending stair. Then descend cautiously, if you please." Each one put out a foot, and in a moment they were all going down a stairway, of which the treads were evidently of stone, much worn.

When they had gone down some thirty steps, they were aware that the stair had ended, and that they were on a landing. "You will now cross the bridge, one by one, holding on to the railing," said the voice of the young man. One by one the party stepped forward, feeling the way cautiously, and as each in turn found with his hand a slight wooden railing, a breath of fresh air blew upon his face and the sound of rushing water came from below. Instead of the firm stone they had just been treading, they were conscious of wooden planking under their feet, and it gave beneath their pressure most uneasily. The bridge was a long one, and the sound of rushing water followed them its entire length. They walked again, however, on firm ground, and heard the young man's voice before them. "Be good enough to follow the right hand wall," it said, "and turn with the wall."

Each right hand touched the surface of a wall, and in a moment the wall made a turning to the right. In another moment their progress was barred by a wall in advance, and the voice of the young man spoke from their midst. "You will kindly stoop as you go in," said he, and at the same moment a round opening appeared before them, dimly lit from within. It was only large enough to admit a single person, stooping. The young man entered first, and the others followed, one by one. When they were all on the other side of the door, the young man swung it noiselessly to, on its hinges, and it was seen that it fitted accurately, so that it was impossible to distinguish it from the wall.

They were in a small room, unfurnished except for a table in the center, on which burned an oil lamp of silver, in shape like a boat; the walls were bare, except for certain shelves containing bottles of coloured liquids, other bottles of coloured powders, mortars, retorts, gas-burners, and huge dusty books. There appeared to be no outlet from the room, but the young man pressed his finger on a spot behind one of the bottles on a shelf, and a circular door, like the one by which they had entered, swung slowly open in the opposite wall.

"We have arrived," said the young man. "Please to follow."

He stooped and entered the circular doorway, and the others, one by one, followed. They found themselves in a rich and luxurious apartment, softly lighted by a hanging lamp; in the center was a table, littered with open books and scrolls of paper, and bearing notably a great round globe of solid crystal.

Beside the table, on a divan, reclined what appeared to be a dry and shriveled mummy.

CHAPTER XXII

SIX ENCHANTED SOULS

"This is my great-great-grandfather," said the young man.

The room in which they stood was hung about on all the walls with rare and beautiful rugs, and similar rugs covered the floor. Richly embroidered cushions and delicate silk and cashmere shawls lay on the few easy chairs that were disposed about the room. The bowl of the hanging lamp, above the table, was of bits of amber and orange and ruby glass, through which shone a subdued and mellow light. Near the ceiling were three or four small openings, covered with iron gratings, and the air in the apartment was pure, except for the odour of tobacco. The figure on the divan was smoking a pipe; a water-pipe, whose long flexible stem reached to the floor, where its bowl rested.

Shiraz the Rug-Merchant looked at his visitors with little beady black eyes. His skin was very dark, and shriveled and wrinkled like the skin of a dried apple. His cheek-bones seemed as if about to break through his cheeks, and his lips were stretched back from his teeth, which were black and broken. His hands were like the claws of a bird. Thin white hair straggled over his tight dark scalp. He wore a robe of some soft material, harmoniously mottled upon a ground of maroon, and on his feet were slippers of red morocco, pointed upwards at the toes. His turban lay upon the table beside him.

He was the smallest man the strangers had ever seen. After a searching look at them with his beady eyes, he rose from the divan, laid down the stem of his pipe, and stood up. He was not taller than Freddie. As he stood by the divan, looking up at his visitors, he seemed indeed a mere mummy of a man, likely to fall to pieces at a breath of air.

"You are welcome," he said, in a voice surprisingly strong. "I perceive that you have come from a great distance. Permit me to inquire what errand has brought you to your servant's poor habitation."

"I reckon we want to buy something," said Toby. "I don't know what, exactly, but a chap by the name of Higginson, Captain Reuben Higginson, he give us the direction, as you might say."

"Ah, yes," said Shiraz the Persian. "I remember him very well. I was sorry to learn of his misfortune. An excellent man; a member of some strange sect – "

"A Quaker," said Toby. "The paper he left said we might buy something here, and here we are, ready to buy."

"I have long since retired from the rug business," said Shiraz, "but I have brought with me here, as you may see, some of my choicest treasures, as a slight solace in my seclusion." He glanced towards the rugs on the walls. "I am reluctant to part with any of them, but I am willing to make an exception, in view of your having made so long a journey to see me. My son," said he to the young man, "bring hither the Omar prayer-rug."

The young man took from one of the walls a small rug, and laid it at the feet of Shiraz.

"You will immediately perceive," said the Persian, "the extreme beauty of this rug. It is one of my rarest treasures. It is a prayer-rug from the mosque of Omar at Isfahan; a Kalicheh of cut-pile fabric, with the Sehna knot, as I need not tell you; made in Kurdistan three hundred years ago; observe, if you please, the delicacy of the design and the harmony of the colouring. Its possession is as a spring of water to the desert Bedouin; as a palm with dates on the road to Mecca; as a word to the believer from the mouth of the Prophet. Its price, to those who have journeyed across the sea to buy it, is twelve copper pennies."

The Sly Old Fox stooped down and examined it. His eyes lit up with pleasure. "Beautiful!" said he. "I have never seen a rug more beautiful; it is a real work of – of – I will take it. At twelve pennies. It is mine."

"No, no!" said Aunt Amanda. "You'll do nothing of the kind. It is certainly the finest piece of carpet I have ever seen, and the price is low enough, in all conscience. But we are not going to buy it. I am sorry, sir, but we can't buy your rug. Show us something else."

Shiraz displayed his teeth more plainly than ever in a sly smile.

"Your servant is desolated," he replied. "I crave your pardon for showing a trifle so far beneath your notice. My son, take it away. If your excellencies will deign to overlook my error, I will produce an article more worthy of your attention. This time I promise myself the ecstasy of your approval."

"Pretty good line of talk," whispered Toby in Mr. Punch's ear.

"My son," continued Shiraz, "bring hither the Wishing Rug."

The young man took away the prayer-rug, and brought another from the wall; a much larger one, large enough, indeed, for twenty people to stand on. It was dingy and frayed, and in no way beautiful like the other.

"A rug of the Tomb of Rustam," said Shiraz, "gained by the hero in battle from the genie Akhnavid. It is the last of the Wishing Rugs. Its property is, that it will transport to the farthest regions of the earth, in the twinkling of an eye, those who sit upon it and but name aloud the place of their desire. Excellencies," he said, addressing his visitors very earnestly, "if it is your wish to return home, the moment has arrived; you have only to sit upon this rug and wish yourselves at home, and you will find yourselves there, safe and sound, before the words shall have well left your lips. And the price is only twenty pennies."

Every one of the party hesitated. A vision of the Old Tobacco Shop entered each mind. It had never seemed so cozy, so quiet, so secure as at that moment. How or when they would ever get there, in the natural course of events, no one knew. If they did not seize this opportunity, they might be lost forever. It was a chance such as they could scarcely have hoped for.

"Could we take our belongings with us?" said the Sly Old Fox.

"All that can be piled on the rug," said Shiraz.

"Then I will buy it," said the Sly Old Codger. "I do not consider twenty pennies too much for such a rug. The rug is mine."

"It's nothing of the sort," said Aunt Amanda, waking from deep thought. "Nobody's going to buy the rug. I'm captain of this expedition, and my orders is, to wait and see what's going to happen next. I'm sorry, sir, but the rug ain't exactly what we want. You must show us something else."