Boy's Cinema (1933)

12 Arab dwellings side by side with palaces. The streets were thronged with people —Tuaregs and Azgars mostly. They were hurrying about their business, and except for the colour and the sand and heat, I might have been in Paris. I staggered to the end of the street, hardly able to walk, but intent upon making my escape. Suddenly someone stood in my path. It was an armed Tuareg. "You cannot pass," he said curtly. I started back in amazement. As you know, I am something of an expert in Saharan languages, and the dialect in which this man spoke was Hamitc—a dialect that was thought dead thousands of years ago. I shivered. This man and his race must be one of the direct descendants of Ham, the second son of Noah ! Buried in this strange, hidden city of the Sahara, they had survived the ages, building up their own strange civilisa- tion, cut off completely from the world outside. "I must pass," I said weakly. "I am a French officer, and I demand my liberty." His features remained immovable. "You cannot pass." he repeated. It was no good. I knew that in my weakened state there was no sense in trying to overcome him by force. I retraced my footsteps, intending to get to the other end of the street. Again I was confronted by an armed Tuareg. "You cannot pass!" It. was heartbreaking. I felt that I wanted to break down and sob from sheer helpless weakness. I tried to stagger back to the room in which I had first found myself, but bv then I had lost my way. Time and time again I tried to speak to the passers-by, but no one took the least notice of me. In the end I sank down, exhausted. A sledge-hammer seemed to be beating a steady tattoo in my brain For the second time I must have lost consciousness, for when I opened my eyes again I found myself in a vast chamber. Gigantic pillars were all around me. and pacing backwards and forwards not more than a few paces away was a cheetah. Something else was moving close by. I locked'up, to find a negress fanning me gently. "Where am I?" I demanded, sitting up abruptly. As yi in answer to my question, a man stepped abruptly into the chamber. He was gigantic, and was dressed in the double-breasted long coat of a Russian Cossack. Imagine my astonishment ! The Cossacks had ceased to exist at the time of the Russian revolution in 1917 ! Yet here was one of them, dressed in a now obsolete uniform ! He approached me and made a cere- monious bow. "I am Count Biclowski, late General of the Jitomir." Painfully I rose to my feet. "What is the meaning of all this?" I demanded. "Why am I here? Why do these Arabs keep'me a prisoner?" "It is by order of Antinea," the Cossack replied sombrely. "And who in blazes is Antinea?" " Ssli ! Do you want to get yourself killed '.'" His expression was stern, almost forbidding. "Antinea is tin; queen of Atlantis, the lost city of the Sahara." "Atlantis?" I exclaimed. The shock he had given me brought back some April 29th, 1933. BOY'S CINEMA of my strength. "Then it does exist!" He nodded gravely. "I still demand to know why I am here," I said angrily "I have a right to my liberty. I insist upon being set free." He came closer to me, and tool< me gently by the arm. " Everything will be explained to you within a very few minutes, my friend," he said. "Come with me." I hesitated, then realised the futility of not obeying. I was defenceless, com- pletely at the mercy of my captors. "Very well," I said. "Lead the way." He crossed the chamber and went through a passage to a sort of ante- room, I close at his heels. As we entered the room a young man started up from the floor, and glared at us like a mad beast. Then lie subsided again. "Oh, it's you, Bielowski," he said. Then he turned his burning eyes upon me. "So Antinea wants you now. eh?" he muttered. "And after you, others— a thousand others." He was mad. He was also in love with this mysterious Queen Antinea. That was obvious. I did not have an opportunity to reply, for at that moment an armed Tuareg came into the ante-room and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Antinea calls you," he said. "Come with mo." I looked at Count Biclowski for guidance, and he nodded. Resignedly I Started to follow the Tuareg. Antinea. FROM the ante-room more long corri- dors had to be traversed. As I was walking along by the Tuareg's side, I heard an insane shout behind me. and something landed on my back with staggering force. I shot forward, stumbled, and fell on mv face. Fingers were clawing at my throat. I summoned the whole of my strength, and "tried to tear them away, but they clung and dug in deeper. My face began to go livid— : —r The Tuareg and others fell upon my assailant, and dragged him off. I rose to my feet, and turned. It was the mad young man with the burning eyes. He was struggling in the grip of four Tuaregs, while Count Bielowski stood by. "Antinea calls!" the madman mocked. "And, after you, others! She is a fiend ! She robs men of their souls, and then oasts them off like " He broke off abruptly as Count Bielowski's open hand caught him on the side of the face. The count's face was dark with anger. "You have said enough !" he snapped. "This has happened before, and you were warned then that it would mean death. Take him away!" They dragged the young man off, his shouts echoing amongst the columns with terrifying loudness. The Tuareg guide touched me on the arm. "Come !" he said. I followed, badly shaken by what had happened. What was it the madman had said ? " She robs men of their sotds !" I could not help shuddering. I came to a huge throne-room in the end. It was vast and magnificent—some hundred feet long and sixty feet wide. At the far end was a dais, and on it. sitting in a crude stone chair covered with skins, was a woman. I tell you, Fcrricres, I have AWcr seen anyone like her. Her face was as smooth as new parchment, and of about the same colour. Against this showed Every Tuesday the red of her lips and the blackness of her hair in sharp contrast. But it was not lips or hair that trans- fixed me. It was her eyes. They werd like the cheetah's—huge and deep and mysterious. They seemed to radiate a magnetism that took possession of me. And they shone ! Heavens, how they shone ! I thought of the madman's words, and shuddered again. There was but one thing to do, I felt. I must assert my own will.. I must do something which would keep off the spell I knew she could cast over me. I approached the throne, and stood before her, meeting her eyes boldh. "Madame," I said courteously but. firmly, "I wish to know the whereabouts of my friend, Captain Morhange. '' She smiled. It was a smile without a soul. " Sit down at my feet, Lieutenant SaimVAvit," she said. It was not a request, but a command. I rigidly tried to resist it, yet sat down. " Why am I here ?" I demanded. Again she smiled. "You came here almost of your own accord," she said. "Then," I cut in quickly, "I wish to leave of my own accord." She regarded me steadily. Her cheetah-like eyes seemed to glow even more, as though she would spring on me and tear me limb from limb. "You do not like Atlantis?" she asked. < ikr, "From the treatment I havel''had, madanie, you could hardly oxpectAiie to like it," I said sharply. She sighed. "I can see that you will be as difficult as your friend," she Said. "What will you do if I let you go?" "Return to the fort, and send a dis- patch to Paris that Atlantis i'e'af I y exists," I replied. "> ""* "You must not do that." Her voice had a strange, crooning note in it now. "Atlantis is old—very old. And it is free. It acknowledges the mastery of none, and never will do." "It is within French mandated tern". tory " I began, but she silenced me with those eyes of hers. "None know where it is, except those within its walls," she went on. " That is why you will never be able to return to your people. You came across the desert, intent upon carrying your national flag into every corner of Algeria. French rule shall be supreme, you said to yourself. Thus my men brought you here, and from here you will never return." I stared at her aghast. " You mean I am to be kept a prisoner for the rest of my life?" Again that, smile. She slipped from her throne to the floor by my side and looked deeply into my eyes. "Would that be so very hard?" she whispered. "Am I not worth such a small sacrifice ?" I tried to shrink away, but somehow my will had gone. Those eyes burned into my brain. I was her slave, body and soul. Vainly I fought against it, striving to throw off what I knew to be the effects of hypnotism. Suddenly she returned to her throne, and sat there regarding me strangely. "Go, and think over what I have told you," she said gently. "Do not hurry with your decision. Atlantis holds you, and you can never break away from it. Beyond is the desert—and oblivion. From this moment no one shall try to prevent your departure. If you would