“I am having serious doubts as to the advisability of our remaining here. Let us at least behave as if our departure were imminent.”
“Start packing, you mean?” Nefret asked, her brow furrowed.
“It would certainly do no harm if each of us made up a little bundle of basic necessities. What I meant, however, was that we should shop for items we would need on a journey and inspect the motorcar to make certain it is in good order.”
“It is in good order,” Selim declared, in some indignation.
“I am sure it is, Selim. But you could pretend it was not, couldn’t you – that some repairs were needed? That would give us a reasonable excuse to stay on for another day.”
“Yes, I could do that,” Selim agreed. His eyes shone in anticipation of an interesting vehicular challenge. “These people know nothing of motorcars. I could take off the -”
“No, no, you mustn’t take anything off! I want to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, if we have to.”
“Not having one of your famous premonitions, are you?” Emerson inquired, his eyes narrowing. “Because if you are -”
“You don’t want me to tell you about it. I am only trying to anticipate every contingency, Emerson. That is not superstition, it is simply good sense. We must stay here until tomorrow at the earliest, so that we can confer with Sethos, and we don’t want some helpful military person dropping by to inquire into our plans.”
“How far do you want to go?” Selim asked. “If it is more than five miles, we will need more petrol.”
“What else will we need?”
I made a little list. Our guest, who had not spoken except to bid us good morning, said, “Am I to go with you?”
I leaned back and gave her my full attention. A bath and a change of clothing, into one of “the favorite’s” silk robes, had improved her appearance considerably, and I had braided her hair myself. One could not have called her pretty, her features were too strong, but she was a handsome girl, in her way. Selim kept sneaking sidelong glances at her.
“We aren’t going anywhere just yet,” I replied. “As for taking you back to Cairo with us, that depends on a number of factors that are as yet unknown.”
“We can’t do anything else,” said Emerson. “She has placed herself in our hands and we owe her our protection.”
Esin’s admiring gaze indicated her appreciation of this noble sentiment, which was, I should add, entirely sincere. It wasn’t that simple, of course; men fix on words like honor and decency and noblesse oblige, and lose sight of the important issues. My chivalrous husband would never consent to an exchange, even if the life at stake was that of his own brother. I had not decided what I would do if the situation arose. We would not be selling the girl into slavery, only returning her to a father who had always treated her indulgently…
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, I reminded myself. We must hope that the hard decision did not arise. The likelihood of Sahin’s agreeing to an exchange of any kind was slight, I thought. Pride and duty – two more of those masculine catchwords – would forbid it, and he would not fear for her safety if we were looking after her.
“Speaking of that – I refer to my husband’s statement that you placed yourself in our hands,” I said. “Did you? Were you aware that you were being brought to us?”
“Oh, yes.” She transferred her admiring gaze to Ramses. “Did you not say you were in my debt – that you would protect me from my father’s wrath?”
“Did you?” Nefret inquired sweetly.
Ramses’s beleaguered gaze moved from the girl to Nefret and back. “I – uh – to be honest, I don’t remember what the hell I said!”
“If you did not say it, you meant it,” Esin declared. “No Englishman would leave a woman to suffer for a service she had done him.”
“But you said your father didn’t suspect you,” Ramses protested.
“He was beginning to. That is what Ismail Pasha told me.”
“Ah,” I said. “So he offered to help you.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “I think that is how it was. But I did most of it myself. I had to find my own way out of the house. That was not so hard, I know all the secret passages and cellars, but then I had to go to the place he told me about, the tomb of a saint that is outside the wall of the Serai. It is not far, but I was very frightened, and I had to wait a long time before the rug merchant came with his cart, and then he was stopped at the guard post and I could hear them talking and laughing and I was afraid they would search the cart. But they did not. It was a long bumpy ride and I could not breathe very well, and -”
“You were very courageous,” I interrupted, for I had heard enough. The essentials of the story had been told. It sounded as if Ramses had been correct about Sethos’s devious methods.
The various schemes I had proposed kept us busy all day. Selim spent a good deal of the time underneath the motorcar, surrounded by a fascinated audience, including the babies and the goats. From time to time he emerged, sweating and oil-stained, to report progress and bask in the admiration of the beholders. We could have got the petrol from an independent businessman – there was a thriving black market on all military items – but Emerson decided that we might just as well ask the authorities for it. It required only four hours for his request to be approved. Clearly, they were anxious to be rid of us.
By evening our plans had been completed. I had whiled away the hours exploring the rest of the house. It was like many others I had visited, with nothing of particular interest except for even more secret passages and hidden chambers than usual. Mahmud or one of his ancestors appeared to have had little faith in his government, his associates, and his wives.
According to Ramses, we should allow at least an hour to reach the spot Sethos had indicated. When we gathered in the ka’ah for a light evening repast, we discussed who should go. Naturally I intended to make one of the party, and Emerson was set on confronting his infuriating brother. Someone had to stay with the girl, we all agreed to that – Nefret with a caustic “I’m always the one” – but Selim and Ramses could not decide which of them should go and which should remain with the two young women. It lacked half an hour till the time we were to leave, and we were still discussing the matter, when a horrible, ululating howl broke the silence of the quiet night. The mashrabiya screen was ajar and I heard the words quite clearly:
“O unbelievers, prepare for death! O ye unrighteous, who walk in darkness pursued by afrits and…” The speech ended in an anticlimactic squawk.
In a body we rushed to the window and flung the screen open. In the moonlight I saw a dark mass huddled outside the gate, and Selim, his shoulder braced against it. Realizing they had been discovered, the invaders began battering at the gate.
I tried, too late, to catch hold of Ramses, who had climbed over the sill. He dropped to the ground and reached Selim as the gate gave way. Selim’s knife flashed. Ramses had snatched up a lever or spanner as he ran past the motorcar; he swung his arm, and a scream from one of the attackers wavered into silence.
“Quick!” Emerson exclaimed. “Out the bab-sirr, all of you.”
“Be damned to that!” I shrieked, for my blood was up. “ ‘Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with – ’ ”
“Me,” said Emerson. “Curse it, Peabody, get the girls out of here. You know what to do.”
He was already halfway out the window, lowering himself by one hand.
The fighting instincts of the Peabodys were not easily controlled; but the confidence he had placed in me enabled me to master them. I expected some objection from Nefret, but she made none. Pausing only long enough to collect the bundles we had packed earlier, we fled down the stairs and through the rooms of the ground floor toward the small chamber that contained the secret door. Esin had spoken only once: “Is it my father?”
“I don’t know. Be quiet and hurry.”
The house was deserted. The servants who lived in had run away or w
ere in hiding. One could hardly blame them for refusing to become involved in the affairs of strangers. No doubt the local authorities, such as they were, felt the same. I hoped the uproar at the gate would attract the attention of the military police, but by the time they arrived it might be too late.
Nefret had not spoken at all. We both had our torches; she held the light steady while I searched for the catch Emerson had shown me. It was stiff with disuse, but finally it yielded. The panel swung open, and we all crowded into the space beyond. The passage went through the thick wall of the house. It was ten feet long and less than two feet wide; we had to go single-file, our bundles bumping against the walls. At the end was a wooden door. It was not bolted or locked; one simply pressed a handle to release the latch, which was presumably less visible from the other side.
I did not know what lay beyond that door. This was as far as I had gone with Emerson.
“Go ahead,” Nefret whispered. “What are you waiting for?”
Her face gleamed with perspiration. Esin’s eyes were wide with terror and her breath came in short gasps. I was as anxious as they to get out of that cramped place; it was like standing in an upright coffin, with dust clogging the nostrils and a strange, sour smell. Many generations of rodents must have lived and died in that passage; their bones had crunched under our feet as we walked.
“I am waiting for the men to join us,” I replied. “We cannot take the risk of being separated. Since I do not know whether they will follow us through the bab-sirr or come round to the back, we had better remain where we are. Put out the torch, Nefret. I expect they will be along shortly.”
My confidence was not assumed. With the aid of Emerson’s strength, they should be able to close and barricade the gate and beat a strategic retreat. However, it is difficult to estimate time in the dark; we waited, breathing with difficulty, for what seemed like hours, before hinges creaked and a square of paler darkness opened before me.
“Don’t shoot,” said a familiar voice.
I tucked my pistol back into my pocket. “I couldn’t be sure it was you,” I explained. “Are Ramses and Selim -”
“All present and accounted for,” said Ramses breathlessly. “We can’t stay here, they’ll be looking for us. Let’s go.”
“Where?” I demanded, squeezing through a narrow aperture and a curtain of thorny vines.
“We have an appointment at midnight, I believe. I am all the more anxious now to hear what the… fellow has to say. Damn these cactuses,” Emerson added.
They formed a hedge a few feet away. The wall of the house rose sheer and windowless behind us. Nefret and Esin followed me out and Emerson closed the panel, which was of wood painted to resemble the plastered surface of which it formed a part.
“Lead on,” I said.
The narrow lane into which we had emerged led back to the square, but it was obvious we could not go that way; from the sounds of it, a full-scale riot was in progress. A tongue of fire shot up. Someone usually sets fire to something during these affairs, which, once started, go on of their own momentum – especially when there are interested parties fanning the flames. As we retreated in the opposite direction, I heard the same high-pitched shriek of “unbelievers.”
It was fortunate that we had explored the town earlier. Cactus hedges and high walls formed barricades that had to be got round, and twice the sight of men waving torches forced us to retreat in haste. It was quite exciting. However, we found ourselves at last in the open countryside. The moon shone brightly down on fields of waving grain and groves of orange and fig trees.
Moonlight is good for lovers but it is cursed inconvenient for fugitives. We kept to the shadows whenever we could, and once the sound of approaching hoofbeats made us dive for cover in a ditch. After the small troop had galloped past, I said to Emerson, “They were our fellows, Australians and New Zealanders. Perhaps we ought to have stopped them.”
“Do you want to explain this evening’s events – and her – to General Chetwode?” Emerson demanded.
It was a rhetorical question, and he did not wait for an answer.
The distance was less than two miles, but I would never have found the place without a guide. The small hamlet had long been abandoned and the majority of the houses had collapsed into shapeless piles of stone. One or two of them still retained their walls and parts of the roof. There was no sign of life in the half-ruined structure to which Ramses led us.
“We are a trifle late,” I whispered. “Perhaps he has left.”
“If he isn’t there, I will go to Gaza and drag him out by his collar,” Emerson muttered.
He wasn’t there. Ramses, who had insisted on searching the place before we entered, returned to report this fact. “It’s not that late,” he added. “Give him time.”
“I suppose we can’t expect punctuality under these circumstances,” Emerson admitted. “This is as good a place as any to rest; we may as well make ourselves comfortable. What have you got in that bundle, Peabody?”
“Only the bare necessities, I fear. Water, of course, and my first-aid kit. Did any of you incur injuries that require attention?”
“Nothing to speak of,” Emerson said. He let out a soft laugh. “Your quotation was apropos. The damned fools tried to crowd in all at once. ‘In yon straight path a thousand may well be stopped by three,’ as the Lays of Ancient Rome so poetically expresses it. We pushed them back, got the gate closed, and shoved a cart up against it. Then, unlike Horatius and his comrades, we retreated in good order. Selim wanted to stay and fight on, but I dragged him away.”
“It was a good fight,” Selim said reminiscently.
He reached for the water bottle, which was passing round, and I said with a sigh of exasperation, “All right, Selim, let me see your hand. Why didn’t you tell me you had been wounded?”
“It is nothing,” said Selim. “It will heal. I do not need anything on it.”
He meant antiseptics. Men are strange creatures; he had taken a cut on the side of his wrist which had bled copiously and must have hurt quite a lot, but I had to speak sternly to him before he let me swab it with alcohol.
It was a relief to rest our weary limbs. Esin was half asleep already, stretched out on a patch of ground Selim had gallantly swept clean of pebbles, with her head on one of the bundles. “Biscuit, anyone?” I inquired, extracting the packet from my parcel.
Emerson chuckled. “What, no whiskey? My dear girl, packing those bundles was a brilliant thought, but I have come to expect no less of you.” We were sitting side by side in a darkish corner, so he gave me a quick demonstration of approval.
“How long can we stay here without being discovered?” I asked.
“It’s safe enough,” Ramses replied. “The locals think the place is haunted.”
“By you?” Nefret asked.
“I encouraged the idea. I wonder…” He went to the darkest corner of the place and shifted a few stones. After a moment he said, “No, it’s not here – the pistol I took from Chetwode. He must have collected it on his way back.”
“Pity,” said Emerson. “We may want a weapon before the night is over. Ah, well, we usually manage without one.”
“Yes, sir,” Ramses agreed. He went back to Nefret and sat down. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he put his arm round her. “Darling, why don’t you stretch out and sleep for a while? It’s beginning to look as if he -”
He broke off with a hiss of breath, his head turning alertly, and raised a finger to his lips. Ramses’s acute hearing had prompted one of Daoud’s more memorable sayings: “He can hear a whisper across the Nile.” We froze, holding our breaths. Ramses rose and drifted toward the door, silent as a shadow in his dark galabeeyah.
Someone was coming. He walked quietly but not noiselessly. I heard a twig snap and then a form appeared in the ragged moonlit aperture of the door. The silhouette was that of a tall man wearing a turban and a long robe. He leaned forward, peering into the darkness, his arms raised in greeti
ng or defense. One sleeve hung limp from the elbow.
Ramses seized the fellow in a tight grip and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Hell and damnation,” Emerson exclaimed, surging to his feet. “Bring him in. Keep him quiet. He must be the bastard who was howling out anathemas against the unbelievers; I thought that voice was familiar! If he’s led that pack of jackals here… We need a gag, Peabody. Tear up some extraneous garment or other.”
“I do not possess any extraneous garments, Emerson. Hit him over the head.”
The prisoner, who had been quiescent until then, was galvanized into frantic movement. He managed to wrench Ramses’s hand from his face.
“For God’s sake, don’t be hasty!”
The words were English. The accent was refined. The voice was not that of Sethos.
Ramses lowered his hand but did not release his hold. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
“A friend. That is the conventional reply, I believe. I really am, though.”
It had been a long time, but the well-bred drawl, with its undercurrent of amusement, struck a chord of memory.
“Let him go, Ramses,” I said. “You remember Sir Edward Washington, Sethos’s aide and co-conspirator?”
“I am flattered, Mrs. Emerson.” Sir Edward removed himself from Ramses’s loosened grasp and made me an elegant bow. “How very good it is to see you again. And the Professor…” Another bow. “Nefret – do forgive the liberty – beautiful as ever… Selim, my friend… And I see you have the young lady safe. Well done.”
Ramses switched on his torch and stared incredulously at the tatterdemalion figure. Sir Edward bowed again, with the mocking grace that was peculiarly his.
“By God, it is,” Ramses muttered. “How the devil -”
“Never mind that now, Ramses,” I interrupted. “Sir Edward, are you here in lieu of your chief?”
“Straight to the point as always, Mrs. Emerson. You are right to remind me we ought not waste time. The answer to your question is no. I have been waiting for him.”
“Good Gad,” Emerson exclaimed, recovering from his understandable surprise. “I never expected to see you again, Sir Edward; the last I heard, you were in…” He broke off, staring at the empty sleeve.
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