It was impossible to sleep. He tossed and turned all night when he wasn’t pacing his room and stopped himself more than once from stalking to Sidney’s room and breaking down the door. It was ridiculous, of course. What would he say then? My apologies for shattering your door but I was curious as to your thoughts on whether the kiss we shared was nothing more significant than a pretense to fool the maid or was it perhaps something extremely important? By morning he’d come to the realization that he could hardly demand to know what, if any, feelings she had before he came to terms with his own mind and perhaps his heart.
Sidney was not at breakfast and neither were the other ladies. There was however a note at the desk for him from Mrs. Higginbotham saying they were joining their new friends from the Thomas Cook group for a morning tour of the several of the city’s mosques but they would resume their schedule in the afternoon. As the note did not list which of the hundreds of mosques in Cairo they would be visiting, Harry had no choice but to await their return. It was most annoying. Patience had never been his strongest quality. Regardless of whether or not he knew his own feelings, for good or ill, he wanted to sort this out with Sidney. He ran into Corbin in the lobby who was of no help whatsoever and was in fact rather pleased not to have to trail after the ladies. He intended to spend the morning writing a dispatch on Sidney’s visit to the pyramids. The details of which he had apparently heard from Sidney at tea. Harry made a mental note never to miss tea again.
Harry tried to do a little of his own writing in the writing room off the main hall but his gaze kept straying to the door and he finally accepted that his efforts were futile. Besides, while he hadn’t seemed to have any difficulty in London writing about the adventures he had shared with Ben and Walter, there were apparently too many memories here to write accurately. Blasted feelings kept getting in the way of telling a story properly. And when he wasn’t trying to record the past, he found himself writing silly things about hair the color of spun gold and the caress of a cheek as soft as a rose petal. A rose petal for God’s sake?
Harry finally moved to the terrace, taking a table near the front steps and attempting to read the English edition of the Egyptian Gazette. But his attention wavered with every new arrival. He did note the departure of Mr. Wallace. The man did not look happy. It was shortly after one when the ladies finally returned.
Sidney was not with them.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” Harry met them in front of the entry between the sphinxes. “Where is she?”
The ladies traded confused glances.
“She?” Lady Blodgett asked. “Who?
Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore frowned in confusion. “Which she?”
“What are you talking about, Harry?” Mrs. Higginbotham’s eyes narrowed. “And why do you look so annoyed?”
“Because I am annoyed.” He ushered them to his table and waited until they were seated. “I see Mrs. Gordon is not with you. Did you lose her again?”
Again the ladies exchanged looks.
“You mean she isn’t here? At the hotel?” A worried note sounded in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice.
“She isn’t with you?” A trickle of unease ran up the back of his neck.
Lady Blodgett shook her head. “She didn’t come with us.” She thought for a moment. “We bid her good-night at the lifts, a bit before midnight I think.” She glanced at the other ladies who nodded in agreement. “Then we all retired to our respective rooms.”
“I realize it’s past one but perhaps she overslept,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “She did seem quite tired last night, as we all were.”
“Sidney is usually an early riser,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore murmured what they were all thinking.
“Did you check her room, Harry?” Mrs. Higginbotham asked.
“No,” he said sharply. “I assumed she was with you.”
“Very well, then, I will.” Mrs. Higginbotham stood and strode into the hotel, the very epitome of determination. Woe to anyone who might stand in her way.
“And I will check with the front desk.” Lady Blodgett rose. “If Sidney is not here, perhaps she left a note.” She turned and disappeared into the building.
“I’m certain there’s nothing to worry about.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s words belied the look of concern in her eyes.
“Of course not.” Still, there was a distinct sense of apprehension curling in his stomach. It had been some time since he’d had that horrid, queasy feeling. Unfortunately, it had never been wrong.
Lady Blodgett was the first to return. “There was indeed a note from Sidney saying she was meeting with another group of readers. She added that we shouldn’t worry and she would see us later today.” She paused. “The clerk said it was there this morning so it was probably left last night.”
“Last night?” Harry met Lady Blodgett’s gaze. “Was he sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“Sidney said we shouldn’t worry and I for one do not intend to.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore nodded firmly as if trying to convince herself as much as the others. “If anyone can take care of herself it’s Sidney.”
“Because of all those adventures she’s had in Egypt?” he said in a sharper manner than he had intended.
“Well, yes,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said weakly. “Among other things...”
Other than her vivid imagination, her skill at deception and her delight in larceny, Harry was afraid to ask what those other things were.
Mrs. Higginbotham returned and sat down heavily at the table. “She isn’t in her room and it appears she did not sleep there.”
“What?” Harry stared.
“How could you possibly know that?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore twisted her hands together.
“The gown she wore last night is missing.” Mrs. Higginbotham heaved a deep sigh. “This is all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t be here.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Don’t be absurd.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore ignored him and patted her friend’s hand. “If anyone is to blame...” She turned an accusing eye on Harry.
“I suggest we dispense with pointing fingers for the moment,” Lady Blodgett said calmly. “Sidney is an intelligent woman and we might be making more out of this than it is. There could well be nothing to be concerned about whatsoever. She could return at any moment with a perfectly logical explanation. Harry.” She met Harry’s gaze directly and in spite of her cool demeanor, unease shone in her eyes. “What do you think?”
He hesitated but it seemed pointless to try to hide anything as they probably already knew everything. “Are you aware she has the medallion?”
“We were not,” Lady Blodgett said slowly.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore murmured.
“However, Mr. Wallace was returning to America today.” Mrs. Higginbotham nodded. “So I daresay he is not a concern.”
But who knew how many others were aware of the stolen items. Harry ignored the disquieting thought.
“Harry.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze pinned his. “What are we to do now?”
He drew a deep breath. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice rose. “What do you mean nothing? Surely there’s something we can do.”
“Absolutely not.” His gaze settled on Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore. “The three of you are to stay here in the hotel. I don’t want to lose any of you in addition to Mrs. Gordon.” His gaze shifted to Lady Blodgett. “None of you are familiar with Cairo, none of you speak Arabic and none of you are suited to this kind of search.” He turned to Mrs. Higginbotham. “Mrs. Gordon’s note said not to worry which indicates to me she is not in any sort of trouble and wherever she went she did so willingly. I understand you are not overly fond of me, but I ask you to trust me now. Will you?”
“We really don’t have much choice, do we?” Mrs. Higginbotham h
uffed. “So yes, I suppose we will trust you.”
“Not a rousing endorsement but I’ll take it. I agree this is probably nothing of any consequence.” From the looks on their faces, it was obvious they didn’t believe him any more than he believed himself. “I assure you, I will locate Mrs. Gordon and we shall all laugh about this later.”
“How?” Lady Blodgett asked. “If you expect us not to do anything, we must know what you intend to do.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded. “It seems to me—”
“Mr. Armstrong, ladies.” Nazzal appeared beside the table and smiled a greeting. Excellent. While he’d told Harry last night he would return today to collect the medallion, Harry’s first thought now was to contact him. If anyone could find a missing Englishwoman in Cairo, Nazzal could. “Might I say how lovely you all look today? Oh, but your numbers are not complete. Where is the delightful Mrs. Gordon?”
The ladies looked at each other. He did hope they were shrewd enough to stay quiet. Gaining Nazzal’s help wasn’t always a simple matter of requesting it. But possession of the artifact did give Harry some leverage at the moment.
“Missing,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore blurted.
Lady Blodgett grimaced. “We don’t know where she is.”
“She’s been gone since last night and we’re quite concerned,” Mrs. Higginbotham added. So much for keeping their mouths shut.
“Is she?” The Egyptian looked at Harry, a dozen questions in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry said. “I was hoping you could be of assistance.”
“I shall do whatever I can.” Nazzal paused. “But first Mr. Armstrong, a private word if you will? In the bar perhaps?”
Harry got to his feet.
“Oh, he doesn’t have your medallion, if that’s what you want,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.
“What?” Nazzal stared.
“Mrs. Higginbotham!” Harry snapped.
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Higginbotham winced. “I wasn’t thinking.” She leaned toward Nazzal and lowered her voice to something she might have intended as a stage whisper. “He doesn’t have your object.”
Harry groaned.
“Oh?” Nazzal’s gaze shot to his. “What does she mean?”
“It’s really a somewhat amusing story,” Harry began.
“You were to notify me at once if you failed to retrieve the—” he glanced at the ladies “—object.”
“Yes, well about that.” Harry grimaced. “I did retrieve the object, I just don’t have it at the moment.”
“Mrs. Gordon has the—” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore paused in a dramatic fashion “—object.”
“How did she get the object.” Nazzal’s brow furrowed. The man looked decidedly confused, but then he was not accustomed to Sidney’s elderly companions. Apparently his last encounter with them did not sufficiently prepare him. Harry suspected he frequently had that same look himself. “And how do any of you know about this?”
“You should sit down, Mr. Nazzal.” Lady Blodgett waved at Harry’s chair beside hers then signaled a waiter for another. “We’ll be happy to explain everything.”
Nazzal cast Harry a dubious glance and sat.
Once they were all settled Lady Blodgett explained how Sidney had learned about the object, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s contribution with her appropriation of the passkey to Wallace’s room, Mrs. Higginbotham’s skills at opening locked doors and their mutual effort to keep the American entertained.
“And while Sidney did tell us she and Harry had been successful, she did not elaborate as to the details,” Lady Blodgett finished and directed an annoyed look at Harry. “And she never mentioned she had the object.”
“How did she come to have the object, Harry?” Mrs. Higginbotham’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, Harry,” Nazzal chimed in. At some point in Lady Blodgett’s explanation—somewhere between Sidney’s hiring of a server to eavesdrop on them and Wallace’s admiration of her work, Nazzal’s annoyance had turned to amusement. “How did Mrs. Gordon come into possession of the object?”
“We were nearly caught by a maid and Mrs. Gordon hid it in her dress,” Harry said simply. He was not about to divulge all the details of their foray.
Mrs. Higginbotham’s brow rose. “That dress was not conducive to the concealment of anything.”
Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore cleared her throat and cast a quick pointed glance down at her bosom.
Mrs. Higginbotham stared, then her expression cleared. “Oh, I see. Quite right.” She nodded. “Excellent place to hide a small object. Always has been.”
Nazzal choked back a laugh.
“What do you find so amusing, Mr. Nazzal?” Lady Blodgett said coolly. “The fact of where Mrs. Gordon hid the object or the fact that we are not embarrassed to mention it?”
“Lady Blodgett.” Nazzal took the older lady’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “I find you and your friends to be most enchanting.”
“Do you?” Lady Blodgett stared for a moment then nodded. “Well, we do try.”
Harry studied him curiously. “You’re not at all worried about this are you?”
“Mrs. Gordon’s absence is a matter of some concern although I doubt it has anything to do with the object. Nor do I think it possible that anyone would know it’s in her possession. You’re not a player in this particular game anymore and I don’t think you would be connected to the object. Yet another reason why I asked you to retrieve it,” Nazzal said. “Mr. Wallace was not unobserved during his stay here. He’s made no contact with whomever sold it to him nor did he make any telephone calls. And, according to my information, he was on the train to Port Said a few hours ago.”
Harry nodded. “I saw him leave.”
All three ladies looked relieved if not entirely convinced. Harry agreed with them.
“You’ll help us.” Harry met Nazzal’s gaze. It was as much a question as comment.
“Anything for a friend, Harry.” Nazzal stood. “I shall make some inquiries and return as soon as I learn anything.”
“As soon as possible, if you would, please, Mr. Nazzal,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said with a feeble smile.
“Yes, of course.” He nodded in a gallant manner and took his leave.
“Ladies.” Harry retook his seat. “Your plans for the rest of the day?”
“Do you really think it will take that long?” Worry creased Mrs. Higginbotham’s brow.
“Mrs. Higginbotham. Effie.” He stared into her eyes. “I know you have heard stories about western women being abducted and never seen again. But I assure you, a widow—a woman who has been married, a woman past her twentieth year—is not as tempting a target as one might think.”
Her eyes widened with indignation. “Rubbish, Harry. Sidney is a lovely woman and I would think kidnappers would find her most desirable.”
“Beyond that, she’s brilliant,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore added. “And one couldn’t find a nicer, more generous person.”
“It would be dreadful if we misplaced her.” Lady Blodgett’s eyes narrowed. “We would all miss her, wouldn’t we, Harry?”
“Yes, of course.” That awful feeling in his stomach was back.
“Even though you and she are at odds over her writing,” Mrs. Higginbotham began, “it’s our observation that you have become quite fond of each other. As traveling companions and perhaps friends?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
“Or even something more?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore pressed.
“Something...” Harry paused. All three ladies wore the same look of anticipation on their faces. As if they now expected him to declare his feelings, whatever they may be. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to deny that there might indeed be feelings. “Now is neither the time nor the place to discuss a matter that is none of your concern.”
A
nticipation turned to disbelief and then indignation.
“Well.” Lady Blodgett rose to her feet and the others followed. “I believe I shall go to my room. And then perhaps the writing room.”
“I daresay we have any number of Lady Travelers pamphlets we should write based on our recent experiences,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.
“One alone on the necessity of leaving notes that are perfectly clear as to whether or not one is being abducted.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore glanced at her friends who nodded in agreement.
“Do let us know if there’s any word.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze bored into his. “At once, Harry. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. And as we are making ourselves clear—” a hard note sounded in his voice “—you will not, either individually or as a group, under any circumstances, leave the hotel.” He wouldn’t put it past them to try to find Sidney themselves.
“Goodness, Harry.” Lady Blodgett huffed. “I told you last night we were not stupid. I assure you, our intelligence has not lessened since then.” She and the others cast him nearly identical disparaging looks then marched into the hotel. As long as they didn’t take it upon themselves to find Sidney, he didn’t care how they looked at him. But the last thing he needed was to lose them all.
A message from Nazzal finally arrived shortly before tea. Harry spotted the messenger and met him at the front desk. The moment he opened the note, he was surrounded by Sidney’s friends who must have been watching the desk as closely as he had.
Mustafa’s note was straight to the point.
Mrs. Gordon has been located in a harem.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE PROBLEM WITH being in a country when one didn’t speak the native language was that there was likely to be all sorts of misunderstandings.
When Sidney returned to her room, she found a formally phrased note on royal stationery had been slipped under her door inviting her to call on the Princess Naile—an aunt of the khedive, the viceroy of Egypt. Apparently the princess had quite enjoyed her book and would like to meet her. Sidney was, of course, both flattered and delighted. And really, how could anyone turn down a royal request? The note also said she would be provided an escort to one of the royal residences and was to accompany the bearer of the note. Sidney hadn’t been back to her rooms for hours. Who knew when the invitation had been delivered. Surely, her escort was no longer waiting for her. Still, it would be rude not to at least make certain.
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