by M. M. Kaye
‘Who’s got it now?’
‘Mr Frost, I imagine. Unless it’s still on the floor of young Holden’s room in the guest annex. I forgot to ask.’
‘Do you think they’ll find it? — the loot, I mean.’
‘I expect so. That is, if it’s still there. It may not be. But if it is, at least it won’t be going to swell the coffers of some local Dictator and his Commissars, and their home-picked brand of the K.G.B.’
‘No, thank God! Well, Dowling, now that that’s over, I’ll be off to dig the Resident out of bed and see what can be done to ensure that this murderous fellow-traveller gets sent back under guard to stand trial at the Old Bailey. And a very good night to you!’ The door banged behind him.
‘Some hope!’ sighed Larry sadly. And resigned himself to spending what remained of the night in a creaking and far from comfortable cane armchair.
Postscript from ‘Kivulimi’.
… it sounds to me a very dull place for a honeymoon, baby. Though I do see that you both felt you’d had enough of romantic places for a bit. It’s a pity we didn’t buy you a mackintosh and some sensible shoes, but anyway, I expect you can get them there, and I’m sure you’re both having a heavenly time, even if you are only on parole or bail or something. And by the way, Larry said to remind you that if you don’t turn up in London on the right date and the right time he’ll have you both arrested and never speak to you again. So you won’t go all starry-eyed and forget, will you darling? (Tyson says that if I’m referring to your husband, I mean pie-eyed. But of course I don’t.)
I think we’ve got rid of the police at last, which is a blessing (except for darling Larry. I wish he could have stayed) and we had a bit of drama over Elf. I expect you saw the announcement in the papers. She’s going to marry Sir Ambrose Yardley. She says that Tyson advised her to marry someone like that. Very naughty of him, as of course Eduardo was simply heartbroken, and we had the most exhausting scenes — and right on top of everything else: I can’t tell you! Still, they’ve both gone, and if I know Eddie, he’s already in love with someone else.
Everything else seems to have been sorted out, except for the Jembe business. I don’t suppose we shall ever know about that, but it seems that Nigel didn’t do it, and Tyson says he’s quite sure that Seyyid Omar did. He was dining with us here the other night and mentioned that Jembe suffered from air sickness, or nerves or something, and that he’d given him something to take for it. And then he looked at Tyson with that bland smile of his and said: ‘Like your revered uncle, one does what one can.’ And then they both drank Barclay’s health. Really — men! How could they? When one thinks of all that lovely money. Oh I forgot you wouldn’t know about that — I must tell you____
It wasn’t nearly as easy as they thought to find it, the treasure I mean, because of course Tyson’s father had bricked up all those walls. (Tyson says he was always messing up the place with improvements.) And when we got there at last, all we found was a rather pompous letter from Barclay. It was a bit difficult to read, as it had got damp, but we read it and it seems that the silly old man had come on the gold when he was poking about in the foundations for material for that boring book of his, and believe it or not, he had carried it all out, bit by bit and night after night, and dumped it into the sea from one of those little fishing carracks, about a mile offshore. Really, darling!
He said money in a place like Zanzibar was a source of evil, because all it led to was Progress; and he was against progress, because it seldom led to happiness, and more often only meant hideous buildings, ugly factories, dirty railway yards and noisy motor cars, and things like strikes, lockouts and exploitation. He preferred coconuts, cloves and charm.
Tyson says it’s rather like a story called ‘The Treasure and the Law’, but I don’t think I can have read it. By the way, he’s sending Lash a copy of The House of Shade as a sort of extra wedding present, and he says if the first one’s a boy you’d better call him Barclay, because in his opinion there can’t be too many of them.
Tyson doesn’t seem to think much of Progress either. He says it was a good idea, but that it’s got out of hand.
Well, darling____
ALSO BY M. M. KAYE
FICTION
The Far Pavilions
Shadow of the Moon
Trade Wine
Death in Kenya
Death in Cyprus
Death in Kashmir
Death in Berlin
Death in the Andamans
The Ordinary Princess (for children)
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
The Sun in the Morning
Golden Afternoon
DEATH IN ZANZIBAR. Copyright © 1959, 1983 by M. M. Kaye. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
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First published in Great Britain under the title The House of Shade by Longmans.
First St. Martin’s Minotaur Edition: November 1999
eISBN 9781250089274
First eBook edition: May 2015