"I trust," he said with his lazy smile, "that Colonel Gray knows of your return. The gentleman tends to be excitable."
"Chu San Fu's people are here in Cairo," I blurted out.
"You spotted them?"
"The lawyer, Loo Chan, and those two Manchurian bodyguards, one of whom you laid out like a mackerel as I recall."
"Ah yes, the altercation on Baker Street. It would seem that you have been busy."
"Happy chance. I just happened to spot Loo Chan."
"Or he let you do so," replied Orloff.
"That thought did occur to me," I said, and was thankful that the security agent didn't pursue the matter.
"That Chu would have some of his apparatus here awaiting his arrival is reasonable. I wonder if they know what he has in mind?"
"I doubt it," I said, expressing a thought that had crossed my mind when closeted with Loo Chan in the native quarter. "In fact, I'm not certain his people are too enthusiastic."
"Dissension in the ranks?"
"They may feel they are following a falling star."
Orloff's eyes could not suppress a slight glow.
"There are times, Watson, when you do surprise me."
And myself as well, I thought. Then I wondered how I was going to explain all this to Holmes. The sleuth would insist on the details that Orloff chose to ignore.
The moment of truth was close by, for there was the sound of a key in the lock and Holmes's thin form entered the room.
"Ah ha!" he exclaimed, tossing his deerstalker on a chair. "The eagles gather."
"To do battle with the forces of darkness," was Orloff's contribution, and a surprising one since humor was not prominent in his makeup.
"What news?" inquired Holmes. "You do look much better, Watson," he added as his eyes swiveled to Orloff.
"What you expected," said the security agent. "Voices have been bought and tongues have been wagging. Like the snowball downhill, a rumor has gathered strength. I judge it to be an expensive but effective bit of propaganda."
"You mean the Moslem unrest?" I asked, and noted that both Holmes and Orloff looked at me in surprise.
"There was mention of it in the local paper," I added.
"Do tell," said Orloff.
"An indication of how far this groundswell has progressed." Happily, Holmes elaborated. "In a land, nay continent, where the printed word is in the hands of a few, a tale told on a caravan trail or a whisper in the bazaar carries more weight than the front page of the Times. In Egypt, we are not far removed from the town crier. And when a story goes from mouth to ear, it never loses in the telling."
Holmes and Orloff were looking at each other, and a silence fell. I began to get that feeling again. The same that I experienced when my friend consorted with his brother, Mycroft, and one sensed that there was unspoken communication as two minds evaluated facts, each knowing the line of thought that the other was following. However, this was not as unusual as it seemed at first glance, for Wakefield Orloff was an extension of Mycroft Holmes. "The Walking Arsenal," as Holmes described him, was the steel forged to strike terror in the hearts of the enemies of the nation. That this unusual man chose to display an antagonism towards the enemies of Sherlock Holmes was another matter. Finally the detective broke the vacuum of silence.
"You have been in touch with London?"
Orloff nodded. "Finally, Whitehall and Downing Street seem aware that there is a pending crisis out here. A cabinet meeting was called and a lengthy, sometimes heated, debate followed. In the end, it was agreed that since a British subject who had been of service to the Empire was on the spot, he should approach the matter. It is hoped that it can be resolved without embarrassment to the Crown."
There was another pause as the security agent's words sank in. Orloff continued in a casual tone.
"If you pull this off, you may have to refuse knighthood a second time."
Holmes dismissed this idea with a gesture. "Poor Mycroft will be accused of nepotism."
"It was Bellinger and Lord Cantlemere who swung the day. I understand Cantlemere was quite grandiose in his references to you, mentioning, among other things, 'wooden ships and iron men.'"
"The aged peer may not be original, but I have no doubts as to his eloquence," was Holmes's dry comment. His eyes captured my startled ones.
"Well, Watson, we'd best come up with something or we dare not show our faces on Baker Street again."
"We, indeed! As near as I can figure out, you are practically Viceroy of Egypt."
"Let us not dramatize, ol' chap. Surely the word 'unofficial' will be used in all dispatches and echoed by that august personage in Balmoral Castle."
Orloff distrusted politicians and disliked anything but the direct approach, but he tried to be fair. "Really the only solution, you know. 'Investigation' is a very elastic word and does present the government with a disclaimer if 'private' is used in conjunction with it. The news has been relayed to the right quarters. You can count on the cooperation of the authorities, as reluctant as they may be."
"All right," said Holmes, springing to his feet. "The matter is coming to a head, that we know. Our first move is to keep that yacht of Chu San Fu's under observation. The Hishouri Kamu should also arrive shortly. Now, if there is to be some revelation to the Moslem world, it must take place in the Mosque of al-Ashar right here in Cairo. It has been Islam's center for religious study for a thousand years."
"That concurs with the feeling of the local men," said Orloff.
"Then we'd best to bed," said the sleuth. "Why don't you stay with us?" he asked Orloff. "There is ample room."
"I was hoping you would ask. The sofa out here will be fine. Let me tend to a few things, secure my bag, and rejoin you."
The only entry to our suite was the main door, and I saw what the security agent was up to. Holmes's presence in Cairo had become vital, and any unwarranted visitor would have to pass Orloff before reaching our bedroom door. Since Orloff had the nighttime instincts of a Bengal tiger, I ranked such an attempt as impossible.
Before extinguishing the lights, I recounted my adventure in the back alleys of Cairo to Holmes, and his face reflected sternness, then gravity, and finally relief.
"Good heavens, Watson, had your quick wit not come to your aid and you'd come to harm in the hands of Loo Chan, what would I have done?"
These few words were Holmes's most emotional reaction since that day when I had been superficially wounded by a bullet from the gun of Killer Evans. Once again I had a brief glimpse of the great heart that lurked behind his usual cold and austere manner. As though ashamed of himself, he shook off the mood.
"But Shakespeare was right. 'All's well that ends well.'"
The next morning, following breakfast, there was a parade of local authorities to our suite, and I recognized that the situation was an uncomfortable one. It was they who had put in the time here on the edge of the Arabian desert, yet in a moment of crisis, an unofficial investigator from London was to call the shots. To have his associate, a doctor no less, in attendance would have added to the strain. To vacate the premises, I contacted Gray and asked if he would take me to the pyramids as he had volunteered the previous evening. I could tell that the Colonel felt he was being shunted off again, but he stood by his invitation.
So it was that we passed through the city to the Nile bridge. In the morning hours, Gray informed me, one encountered a true cross-section of natives and animals, and I agreed with him. There were camels and donkeys and asses in profusion carrying or being led by turbaned men, veiled women, and everywhere squalid children. I had expected to be assailed by Arabs crying for baksheesh, but such was not the case, no doubt because of Colonel Gray's trim uniform and official manner. On the other side of the Nile donkeys awaited us, and we mounted them and set off in the direction of the three huge figures, triangular lighthouses rising from a sea of sand.