The Strange Adventures of Mr. Middleton Read online

  Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  _The_ Strange Adventures _of_ Mr. Middleton

  BY

  WARDON ALLAN CURTIS

  CHICAGOHERBERT S. STONE & COMPANY

  MCMIII

  COPYRIGHT, 1903, BYHERBERT S. STONE & COMPANYCHICAGO

  CONTENTS

  The Manner in Which Mr. Edward Middleton Encounters the Emir Achmed Ben Daoud The Adventure of the Virtuous Spinster What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Second Gift of the Emir The Adventure of William Hicks What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Third Gift of the Emir The Adventure of Norah Sullivan and the Student of Heredity What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Fourth Gift of the Emir The Pleasant Adventures of Dr. McDill What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Fifth Gift of the Emir The Adventure of Miss Clarissa Dawson What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Sixth Gift of the Emir The Unpleasant Adventure of the Faithless Woman What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Seventh Gift of the Emir The Adventure of Achmed Ben Daoud What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Eighth and Last Gift of the Emir

  _The_ Strange Adventures _of_ Mr. Middleton

  _The Manner in Which Mr. Edward Middleton Encounters the Emir AchmedBen Daoud._

  It was a lowering and gloomy night in the early part of the presentcentury. Mr. Edward Middleton, a gallant youth, who had but latelypassed his twenty-third year, was faring northward along the southernpart of that famous avenue of commerce, Clark Street, in the city ofChicago, wending his way toward the emporium of Mr. Marks Cohen.Suddenly the rain which the cloudy heaven had been promising for manyhours, began to descend in great scattered drops that presaged a heavyshower. Mr. Middleton hastened his steps. It was possible that if thedress-suit he wore, hired for the occasion of the wedding of hisfriend, Mr. Chauncey Stackelberg, should become imbued with moisturein the shower that now seemed imminent, Mr. Cohen, of whom he hadhired the suit, would not add to the modicum agreed upon, a charge forpressing it. But if his own suit for everyday wear, which he wascarrying under his arm with the purpose of putting it on at good Mr.Cohen's establishment, should become wet, that would be a seriousmatter. It was, in fact, his only suit and that will explain theanxiety with which he scanned the heavens. Suddenly, Pluvius unloosedall the fountains of the sky, and with scarcely a thought whither hewas going, Mr. Middleton darted into the first haven of refuge, alittle shop he happened to be just passing. As the door closed behindhim with the tinkle of a bell in some remote recess, for the firsttime he realized that the place he had entered was utterly dark. Hisears, straining to their uttermost to make compensation for theinability of his eyes to be of service to him in this juncture, couldno more than inform him that the place was utterly silent. But to hisnose came the powerful fragrance of strange foreign aromas such as hehad never had experience of before,--which, heavy and oppressive intheir cloying perfume, seemed the very breath of mystery. All traffichad ceased without, as the night was well advanced and the rain beatso heavily that the few whom business or pleasure had called abroad atthat hour, had sought shelter. But though the rain now fell with asteady roar, Mr. Middleton, perturbed by a nameless disquiet, wasabout to rush forth into the tempest and seek other shelter, when adoor burst open and, outlined against a glare of light, stood agigantic man who said in a deep, low voice that seemed to pervadeevery corner of the room and cause the air to shake in slowvibrations, "Salaam aleikoom!" Which being repeated again, Mr.Middleton replied:

  "I do not understand the German language."

  A low, musical laugh greeted this remark and the laugh resolvingitself into a low, musical voice that bade him enter, Mr. Middletonfound himself in a small boudoir of oriental magnificence, facing ayoung man in the costume of the Moslem nations, who sat cross-leggedupon a divan smoking a narghileh. He was of perhaps twenty-six,somewhat slight, but elegant of person. His face, extremely handsome,betokened that he was a man of intelligence and sensibility. Twobrilliant, sparkling eyes illumined his countenance and the curl ofhis carmine lips was that of one who while kind--without condescensionand the odiousness of patronage--to all whom the mischance of fate hadmade his inferiors in fortune, would not bend the fawning knee to anywhom the world calls great. Behind him stood a giant blackamore, he ofthe voice that had saluted Mr. Middleton. The blackamore was dressedin crimson silk sparkling with an array of gold lace, but his immenseturban was snowy white. Against his shoulder reposed a greatglittering scimetar and a dozen silver-mounted pistols and poniardswere thrust in his sash.

  Presently the young man removed the golden mouth-piece of thenarghileh from his lips and regarding Mr. Middleton fixedly, remarked:

  "There is but one God and Mohammed is his Prophet."

  Now this was not the doctrine Mr. Middleton had been taught in theMethodist Sunday School in Janesville, Wisconsin, but disliking todispute with one so engaging as the handsome Moslem, and having readin a book of etiquette that it was very ill mannered to indulge intheological controversy and, moreover, being conscious of the presenceof the blackamore with the glittering scimetar, he began to make hisexcuses for an immediate departure. But the Moslem would not hear tothis.

  "Mesrour will bear your garments to Mr. Cohen. From your visage, Ijudge you to be a person I wish to know. I take you to be endowed withprobity, discretion, and valor, and not without wit, good taste, andgood manners. Mesrour, relieve the gentleman of his burden."

  Whereupon Mr. Middleton was compelled to state that it was the garmenton his back that was to go to Mr. Cohen, though he feared thisconfession would cause him to fall in the estimation of the Moslem.But the stranger relaxed none of his deference at this intimation thatMr. Middleton was not a person of consequence.

  "Mesrour, take two sequins from the ebony chest. The price theextortionate tailor charges, is some thirty piastres. Bring back thechange and a receipt."

  "Salaam, effendim!" and Mesrour bowed until the crown of his head waspresented toward his master, together with the palms of his hands, andin this posture backed from the room, leaving Mr. Middletonspeculating upon the wonder and alarm little Mr. Cohen wouldexperience at beholding the gigantic Nubian in all his outlandishpanoply. While changing the dress suit for his street wear, from aback room came the sound of the blackamore moving about, chanting thatweird refrain, tumpty, tumpty, tum--tum; tumpty, tumpty, tum--tum;which from Mesopotamia to the Pillars of Hercules, from the time ofIshmael to the present, has been the song of the sons of the desert.What was his surprise when the blackamore emerged. Gone were histurban, his flowing trousers, his scimetar, pistols, and poniards. Hehad on a long yellow mackintosh, which did not, however, conceal apair of black and white checked pantaloons, a red tie, and green vest,from each upper pocket of which projected an ivory-handled razor.

  "Don't forget the change, Mesrour."

  "No indeed, boss," replied the blackamore, whistling "Mah Tiger Lily,"as he departed.

  The Moslem provided Mr. Middleton with one of those pipes which invarious parts of the Orient are known as narghilehs, hubble-bubbles,or hookabadours, and seeing his guest entirely at his ease, withoutado began as follows:

  "My name is Achmed Ben Daoud, and I am hereditary emir of the tribe ofAl-Yam, which ranges on the border of that fortunate part of theArabian peninsular known as Arabia the Happy. My youngest brother,Ismail, desirous of seeing the world, went to the court of Oman, wherestruck by his inimitable skill in narration, the imam installed him asroyal story-teller. But having in the space of a year exhausted hisstock of stories, the imam, who is blessed with an excellent memory,discovering that he was telling the same stories over again, shut
himup in a tower constructed of vermilion stone quarried on the upperwaters of the great river Euphrates. There my poor brother is to stayuntil he can invent a new stock of stories, but being utterly devoidof invention, only death or relenting upon the part of the imam couldrelease him. Hearing of his plight, I went to the imam with theproposition that I seek out some other story-teller and that uponbringing him to Muscat, my brother be released. But the imam exclaimedthat he was tired of tales of genii and magicians, of enchantments andspells, devils, dragons, and rocs.

  "'These things are too common, too everyday. Go to the country of theFranks and bring me a story-teller who shall tell me tales of farnations, and I will release Ismail, and load him with treasure.'

  "'My Lord,' said I, 'peradventure no Frank story-teller will come. Toguard against such eventuality, I will myself go to the lands of theFranks, there to learn of adventures worthy the ear of your highness.This I will do that my brother may be released from the vermiliontower.'

  "'Do this, and I will give him the vermilion tower and make him grandvizier of the dominions of Oman.'

  "As hereditary emir of the tribe of Al-Yam, I am prince of aconsiderable population. My revenues are sufficient to support lifebecomingly. But desiring to escape attention, and moreover, feelingthat I could better get in touch with all classes of the population, Ihave established here in Chicago a small bazaar for the sale offrankincense and myrrh, the balsam of Hadramaut and attar of rosesfrom the vales of Nejd, coffee of Mocha--which is in Arabia theHappy--dates from Hedjaz, together with ornaments made from wood grownin Mecca and Medina. Such is my stock in trade. By day, Mesrour and Idress like Feringhis. But at night, it pleases us to cast aside thestiff garb of the infidel for the flowing garments of my native land.Mesrour then delights to make the obeisances my rank deserves, butwhich in the presence of the giaours would excite mocking laughter. Ihave prospered. I have made acquaintances and have learned of manyadventures. But I have made no friends. I have been much prepossessedby your bearing and feel that I would like to have you for a friend. Iam also desirous of observing the effect of the tales of adventure Ihave been collecting. I need to acquire skill in the art of narration,and accordingly, I must have someone to tell them to, a person whosecomplaisance will cause him to overlook the faults of a novice. I amexceedingly anxious to have the distinguished honor of your companyand if you have any evenings when you are at leisure, I should be onlytoo glad to have you spend them here."

  "I can come this day week," said Mr. Middleton.

  "So be it. On that occasion I will tell you the tale of The Adventureof the Virtuous Spinster. I have not asked you your calling in life,for I am utterly without curiosity----"

  "I am a clerk in a law office," said Mr. Middleton, quickly, "where Iperform certain tasks and at the same time study law, and it is myhope to be soon admitted to the bar."

  Prince Achmed regarded him earnestly for a moment, and then withdrewto return with a sandalwood case in his hands. This he opened todisclose a leathern-bound volume. Upon the cover was stamped a greatgilt monogram of letters in some strange language. The edges werestained a brilliant and peculiarly vivid green. The pages were of finepearl-colored vellum, covered with strange characters in black. Eachchapter began with a great red initial surrounded by an illuminateddesign of many colored arabesques. It was indeed a volume to cause abook-lover to cry out with joy.

  "Here is all the law man needs, the sacred Koran. Here is thebeginning and end of law, the source of regulations that ensurerighteous conduct, the precepts of Mohammed, prophet of Allah. Ifother laws agree with those of the Koran, they are needless. If theydisagree, they are evil. Study this guide of life, my friend, andthere will be no need to worry your brain with tomes of thepresumptuous wights who from their own imaginings dare attempt todictate laws and impiously substitute them for the laws revealed toMohammed from on high. Accept this gift and study it."

  With the sandalwood case containing the precious volume of the lawunder his arm, Mr. Middleton departed. After the lapse of three days,finding no immediate prospect of learning the Arabic language, andfearful of offending Prince Achmed if he returned the book, and havingno possible use for it, he took it to a bibliophile, who exclaimingthat it was the handiwork of a Mohammedan monastery of Damascus andbore on the cover the monogram of the fifth Fatimite caliph, and wastherefore a thousand years old, he told Mr. Middleton that though itwas worth much more, he could offer him but five hundred dollars,which sum the astonished friend of Achmed received in a daze, anddeparted to invest in a well located lot in a new suburb. Having nouse for the sandalwood case after the Koran had been disposed of, hepresented it to a young lady of Englewood as a receptacle forhandkerchiefs.

  Mr. Middleton said nothing of these transactions when on the appointedevening he once more sat in the presence of the urbane prince of thetribe of Al-Yam. Having handed him a bowl of delicately flavoredsherbet, Achmed began to narrate The Adventure of the VirtuousSpinster.