‘I don’t mean to be if I can damn’ well help it. That’s why I’ve decided, now, that warrant or no warrant, I won’t give myself up to the police. Once they get me I’ll be slung out of Egypt, but every hour I can retain my freedom here there’s still a hope of my being able to get my claws into O’Kieff.’
‘D’you really think you’ll be able to keep clear of the police for any length of time?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. But with you and Clarissa and Amin to help me I may be able to elude them for a day or two. Fortunately none of them knows me by sight and they’ll be looking for a European, anyhow, to start with. They’re bound to catch me in the long run but this get-up gives me the initial advantage.’
‘Well, what’s the first move?’
‘To find O’Kieff. As I didn’t know what the regulations were in Egypt and wanted to avoid any fuss about bringing a gun through the Customs in my luggage I had mine on me when I left the ship; so I’m quite prepared to try a hold-up or any sort of burglary if we can discover where they’ve gone to earth.’
‘You think there’s still a chance of getting the tablet back, then?’
‘I don’t know. He’s probably unloaded it temporarily just in case I tell my story to the police and they think there is enough in it to pay him an unexpected visit. But one thing’s certain; he’ll be in touch with whoever’s got the tablet because he can’t have had time to decipher the hieroglyphics on it yet. If we could trace it through him and get it back before he’s able to do that it would leave him in the air. We’d get a translation done in Cairo and you could slip off into the desert without his having any idea where you’re heading for.’
‘Yes,’ Harry agreed. ‘Sylvia could translate it for us. But the trouble is I don’t see how we’re going to set about tracing O’Kieff. Alexandria’s a large city and we’ve only got to-night to work in. By this time to-morrow he’ll be in Cairo.’
‘That’s just the snag,’ I admitted. ‘He’s almost certain to be staying with Zakri Bey, and I was counting on Zakri’s having a house here, but according to Amin he hasn’t.’
Harry considered for a moment, then he stubbed out his cigar. ‘I gather that this chap Zakri Bey is a real big noise in these parts?’
‘You’ve said it,’ I nodded. ‘Like all the Big Seven he’s immensely rich and right up in the stratosphere of crime where the police don’t ordinarily go looking for criminals at all.’
‘Is he the sort of bloke who would be accepted in the European society here?’
‘Certainly. He’s an Egyptian aristocrat. As a member of one of their oldest families he is persona grata with most of the members of the Government and many European officials.’
‘In that case I think I know one line we might try. Did you ever hear of a chap named McPherson when you were here before?’
‘D’you mean the cotton magnate who’s said to be the richest man in Alexandria?’
‘That’s right. Extraordinary career he’s had. When luck first came his way he was living in a flat in one of the big blocks here. He wanted more spacious accommodation and the story goes that he believed his luck was tied up in some way with his old flat, so he wouldn’t leave it, but took the flat next door and knocked the wall through. After that he took the flat opposite, and another, and another, until he had the whole floor. Then he took the floor above and the floor below, and so on, until he eventually owned the whole six-storey block. Later he went to Venice, bought an old palaccio that was being pulled down and shipped its huge, square, marble staircase here, gutted his block of flats and re-erected the staircase in its centre; so that to-day the place is a veritable palace; huge ballroom, library, roof-gardens and all complete. They say there’s not a single room remaining as it was originally except his simple bedroom on the third floor.’
‘What an amazing story!’
‘It is, isn’t it? Anyhow, McPherson and his wife are one of the most generous couples in the world and they entertain with absolutely regal lavishness. He’s an old friend of mine, and it happens that he came down to meet some people on the “Hampshire” this evening, so we ran into each other on the dock. Apparently he’s got a big party on to-night—fancy dress show—and he pressed Clarissa and me to come along. Ordinarily it’s the sort of invitation we would have jumped at, but in view of poor old Sir Walter’s death last night it hardly seemed decent to go, so we refused. Still, I’ve only to ring him up and say we’ve changed our minds and I’m sure he would be delighted for us to bring you too.’
‘It sounds grand,’ I murmured, ‘but I don’t quite see how going to a party will get us anywhere.’
‘Don’t you?’ he smiled. ‘That’s because you don’t know McPherson’s parties. He does things on the grand scale and every soul who matters in Alexandria will be there. If we keep our eyes and ears open we ought to be able to find out where Zakri Bey is staying. In fact, if he’s such a big bug as you say, I should think he’s almost certain to be there himself.’
‘It’s too risky. If I ran into one of those other friends of McPerson’s from the “Hampshire” they’d know me again, even without my beard. Still, there’s no reason why you and Clarissa shouldn’t go.’
‘That wouldn’t be much good because neither of us knows even what Zakri Bey looks like; and nobody would ever recognise you if you came rigged out just as you are now.’
‘What, like this?’ I expostulated. ‘But you couldn’t possibly take an Arab dragoman to that sort of show.’
‘Nonsense,’ Harry laughed. ‘Alexandria’s one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. There’ll be Greeks and Italians and French and Egyptians there—every colour of the rainbow; as it’s a fancy-dress dance there’ll probably be at least a score of other chaps dressed as Arabs.’
‘In that case. I’m all for it. What time does the party start?’
‘Half-past ten; and if I know the McPhersons they’ll keep it up till dawn. It’s past nine now, so I’ll get back to the hotel, see if they can fix up Clarissa and me with some sort of costume, ‘phone the McPhersons and have a spot of food. Say we pick you up here in a car at eleven?’
‘That’ll do splendidly,’ I agreed. ‘But don’t get out of the car. Stop it about fifty yards down the road, by that lamp-post there, and I’ll be on the look-out for you. Now I’m on the run we must avoid being seen about together in the streets as much as possible; the police may start having you shadowed in the hope that I’ll try to contact you and they’ll be able to pick me up that way.’
When Harry had gone I sat on at the café until Amin reappeared. He had had no luck with his enquiries. Zakri Bey was not staying at the Royal Palace, and by personal visits Amin had confirmed the fact that he had not taken rooms at any of the big hotels. It seemed as though he and O’Kieff had disappeared into the blue and I began to fear that they had decided on a night run through to Cairo by car. It is only 13 miles and by taking the new by-pass road which runs through the desert, avoiding all the villages of the Delta, they could reach Cairo by eleven o’clock if they had left Alexandria immediately after their fracas with me.
Amin took me to a small restaurant where I insisted on his sitting down to feed with me; it would never have done for him to have left me in solitary state and to have had his own food outside, as is the usual custom of guides when they are with Europeans.
He was a little bashful about it but superlatively well-mannered and I took the opportunity to watch his idiosyncrasies as he fed, and copy them, in order to fill the rôle that I was playing as fittingly as possible. I cautioned him, too, that he must not say a single word to me in English and I got in some useful practice of my Arabic during the meal.
After we had fed I thanked him again for all his help and said that if he wished to assist me further he was to report without my risking being seen in their company. He would then be able to carry messages between the Belvilles and myself without my risking being seen in their company. He agreed at once and, having parted from him outside t
he restaurant, I returned to the café on the waterfront.
Fortunately I had not long to wait and with commendable punctuality Harry and Clarissa pulled up in a car near the lamp-post down the street. The driver gave me a queer look as I climbed in; but immediately I started to talk in English he realised that I was just another lunatic tricked out for the fancy-dress dance to which the Belvilles were going. Harry had managed to secure the costumes of a clown and with his round face smothered in white and red paint was quite unrecognisable. Clarissa looked charming in the short skirts and décolleté of Columbine. She was wearing a mask but her red curls would have given her away instantly to anyone who knew her. However, it was hardly likely that O’Kieff would be present at the party and as Zakri Bey had never seen her there was no chance of his associating her with me if he happened to be there.
Ten minutes in the car brought us to the McPherson palace; and palace is the only word which adequately describes that great block of flats which had undergone such a strange metamorphosis. The central staircase of shining marble soared in stage after stage right to the top storey a hundred feet above the wide hall, and as we pushed our way through the swarm of gaily-costumed guests I saw that the splendid suite of reception-rooms on the upper floors held many fine pictures and a magnificent collection of art treasures.
It was, I think, one of the most colourful gatherings I have ever seen because, in addition to the fancy-dresses, the mixed nationalities of the Alexandrians added immensely to the fascination of the scene and Alexandria too, owing once again to the mixed blood of its people, is famous for its beautiful women. None of them wore veils and I noticed that nearly all of them danced appallingly badly; but the languorous way in which they smoked their cigarettes and their whole poise, when they were standing talking to their partners after a dance, made one think of scented divans and walled gardens in the soft Egyptian night.
One of these beauties arrested my attention quite early in the proceedings. She was on the small side, only about five feet two in height, but she had a lovely little figure and one of the strangest faces I have ever seen. She was dressed as Cleopatra and wore a delicate gold fillet with the royal serpent and vulture rising above her low brow. The diadem brought out the lustre of her dark hair which was curled up from the nape of her neck behind. Her skin was a golden-bronze, and she had a large, mobile mouth; but it was her eyes which were so extraordinary. They were blue and set very far apart; so that it gave one a queer sensation to look at her and one could not be quite sure if she were focusing them on one or not. In some way that I could not analyse there seemed to be something Chinese about her.
She was evidently somebody of note as several of the Egyptians—big, heavy-jowled, elderly men—whom one could spot as important officials in spite of their fancy-dress, were always hovering about her, and her jewellery was superb.
Harry danced with Clarissa while I made a tour of the rooms, then I danced with her while he knocked back a good ration of the excellent Pol Roger which was on tap in the splendid library running the whole length of the block on the sixth floor. After that all three of us went round together looking for McPherson with the idea of getting him to introduce Harry to some of the Egyptians; but when we found him none of them happened to be about and he was very much occupied in looking after some newly-arrived guests, so we had to content ourselves with his promise that he would do so later and, as it was half-past one, we went in to supper.
Luck really did serve us then. We had hardly started when Zakri Bey came in with the girl who had those extraordinary, wide-spaced eyes, and they sat down at the table next to us with their backs to myself and Clarissa.
She was chatting away with her usual vivacity and I think a couple of hours in this gay assembly had put Sir Walter’s murder, and the reason for our being here, right out of her pretty head. I tipped her off not to talk so much, so that I could listen to the people just behind us, and kicked Harry under the table so that he should get what was on and recognise Zakri Bey when he saw him again.
Zakri was talking to ‘Cleopatra’ in Arabic and from such scraps of their conversation as I could catch they were only exchanging the usual pleasantries.
By turning my head a little I could see them in profile in a mirror on the opposite wall, and without openly staring at it I kept watch on their reflections as constantly as I could. The mirror was a good twenty feet away and I found it a queer sensation to see them talking at that distance and at the same time to hear their voices within a foot of the back of my neck.
I strained my ears to bursting point for the best part of fifteen minutes and I was just beginning to fear that there was no hope of my overhearing anything of value when Zakri suddenly put his brown hand on ‘Cleopatra’s’ arm and nodded towards the door.
‘That’s the fellow,’ he said. ‘The tall young man dressed as a Red Indian. He is an expert in such things and will be able to decipher it for us.’
I positively itched to turn my head and have a look at the young man in Red Indian dress; but I managed to check the impulse and my eye fell upon Harry’s face opposite. It was comical enough, under the heavy grease-paint make-up and shiny pink skullcap topped by the absurd tufts of false hair that go with the costume of a clown, but his mouth was now hanging open in a positively ludicrous fashion. As he caught my glance he shut it and, bending across the table, whispered:
‘Can you beat it? Lemming’s here. He’s just come in. Look! Behind you, there, with a little Dutch girl. He’s tricked out as an Indian Chief, but I’d swear it’s him.’
Naturally Harry had not understood Zakri’s remark of a moment earlier because the Egyptian was speaking in Arabic. But those two pieces of information coming right on top of each other made me fairly jump for joy. The whole thing was as plain as a pikestaff, now. Lemming had not only taken Harry’s three thousand and passed the story about Cambyses’ lost army on to O’Kieff, but he was also actively co-operating with the enemy. The odds were that he had either come out to Alexandria on an earlier ship, or by air, so as to meet O’Kieff in Egypt and act as technical adviser to his expedition. Now that O’Kieff had secured the tablet it was to be handed over to Lemming for deciphering.
I made an angry face at Harry to stop his talking further and stole another glance in the mirror. Lemming was just sitting down at a table with the girl in Dutch costume, on our side of the room but at the far end and near the door. He was a tall young man of about thirty; a little thin, but his beaky nose, lean jaw and dark eyes suited his Red Indian get-up to perfection.
Zakri and ‘Cleopatra’ were now talking about some mutual friends in Paris so I listened with only half an ear, while doing my best to cover the fact that I was listening at all by carrying on a jerky conversation with Clarissa. As she was quite capable of talking enough for two at any time that part of my job was fairly easy. We had eaten all we wanted of the good things provided by the McPhersons but I meant to outsit Zakri and the girl, just in case they let fall something else, and a few minutes later my luck proved to be in again.
A huge fellow arrayed in the gorgeous costume of the Mamelukes came up to their table, smiling all over his face, and said to her:
‘I see you’ve finished supper, and this is my dance, Princess, I think.’
She smiled back at him and stood up at once but Zakri detained her for a moment to ask:
‘What time do you think you’ll leave here?’
She shrugged, glanced at a wrist-watch encrusted with diamonds, and said. ‘It’s a quarter-past two. I think by four I shall have had enough of it.’
‘If you’re quite sure about that I’ll tell him to call at your house for it at four-thirty, on his way back to his hotel.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Tell him four-thirty, and I will be there.’
Although I was positively seething with excitement I managed to contain myself until Zakri had spoken to Lemming and had followed the other two out of the supper-room. Then I told Harry and Clarissa what was on fo
ot.
‘A darned good thing I’m painted up like this,’ Harry remarked, ‘otherwise Lemming would have been certain to know me again and would probably have tumbled to it that we’ve been keeping an eye on Zakri.’
‘It’s lucky I’ve got my back towards him, too,’ added Clarissa. Then she glanced at me. ‘Well, Bright-Eyes, what sort of plot is the big brain hatching now?’
‘The plot’s already made without any hatching,’ I grinned. ‘All we have to do for the moment is to find out who the Cleopatra woman is and where she lives.’
‘My hat!’ murmured Harry admiringly. ‘You do think fast!’ while Clarissa gave me one of her naughty looks, which I knew quite well meant precisely nothing at all, as she purred:
‘All this he-man stuff is just too exciting, Julian. In a moment I shall be begging you to run away with me.’
‘Let’s dance again, then, and talk it over,’ I said with a smile. ‘In the meantime your nice, complacent husband can go and dig out our kind host and find out all he can about the “lady in the case”.’
I knew there was no risk of Lemming’s clearing off for another hour at least and Harry agreed to meet us at the buffet up in the library when he had seen McPherson, while Clarissa and I went off to dance.
Half an hour later Harry rejoined us with the information that ‘Miss Cleopatra’ was the Princess Oonas Shahamalek and that she lived in one of the big houses at the east end of the Rue Sultan Hussein, which is the Park Lane of Alexandria. She had been a widow for two years although only twenty-one and was said to be fabulously wealthy. Her mother had been a Persian which, perhaps, accounted for the vague suggestion of the Chinese I had noticed in her face.
In my excitement in getting on to Zakri Bey again I quite forgot, for the time being, that I was a hunted man, wanted for murder by the police, and the three of us cheerfully knocked back the best part of a bottle of McPherson’s admirable Pol Roger to a continuation of our luck. I had forgotten, too, that I had never had any sort of training for the desperate type of game I proposed to play and it dawned on me only when I decided it was time for us to go in search of Lemming that, although the plan I had evolved seemed fine in theory, it was going to be quite another matter to put into practice.
The Quest of Julian Day Page 8