We had several callers that afternoon. All of them wanted to sell us something.
Our visit to the suk had aroused the mercenary instincts of every entrepreneur within a twenty-mile radius. It was customary for sellers of choice merchandise to bring it to the house of wealthy individuals, especially to the ladies of the harem. Female brokers are employed for this latter errand, but since we were known to be infidel English persons, we were attended by the merchants themselves, who spread out their silks and jewels, carpets and brassware, for our inspection. One of them, more canny than the rest, had several antiquities for sale, including a fine scarab of Seti I. The area had been in Egyptian hands for a long period of time, Gaza being one of the cities mentioned in documents of the fourteenth century b.c. Arms folded and lips set in a sneer, Emerson refused to violate his rule of never buying from dealers, but I saw the acquisitive gleam in his eyes and bought the scarab and a remarkably well preserved Phoenician vessel.
After that I told Selim we would receive no more callers for a while, and Emerson got out the whiskey. We were using the ka’ah of the harem as our sitting room; I had got it in a state of relative cleanliness, which could not be said of other apartments in the house. Ramses had just opened the whiskey when Selim came hurrying into the room.
“There is a man,” he panted. “An officer. He asks -”
“I’ll do my own asking. Stand out of the way.” The officer had followed him. I recognized the voice and the square, flushed face that peered over Selim’s shoulder. Selim didn’t budge.
Emerson took the pipe from his mouth. “Ah. Major Cartright, as I live and breathe. May I remind you that you don’t give the orders here? Ask politely.”
Cartright got the word out, though it almost choked him. “Please!”
Selim stepped aside, folding his arms. Cartright marched in. Emerson pointed out, in the same mild voice, that there were ladies present and Cartright removed his hat with a muttered apology.
“That’s more like it,” said Emerson. He sipped appreciatively at his whiskey. “Well? Don’t stand there gaping, you must have something to say.”
Emerson was doing his best to be annoying, and no one can do it better than Emerson. Cartright swallowed several words he knew better than to pronounce, and took a long breath. “Send – that is, will you please send that man away?”
“No,” said Emerson. “But I will do my best to prevent him from using his knife on you. You are either very complacent or very courageous to show your face after the filthy trick you played.”
Still standing – for no one had invited him to sit – Cartright took out a handkerchief and wiped his perspiring brow. “Mrs. Emerson – I appeal to you. May I be allowed to speak?”
He was looking at me, not at Nefret, whose tight lips and crimson cheeks must have told him he could not expect any consideration from her. I nodded. “Are you going to claim you knew nothing about Chetwode’s plan?”
“Chetwode is a bloo – - is a young idiot!” his superior exclaimed heatedly. “I didn’t know, Mrs. Emerson, and that is the truth.”
Ramses spoke for the first time. “On your word as an officer and a gentleman?”
The irony went unnoticed by Cartright. “Yes! I was appalled when I learned what Chetwode had done. He has been relieved of duty and will be punished appropriately. Do you believe me?”
“Since you have given your word, we have no choice but to do so,” said Ramses, eyebrows raised and tilted. “Was that the only reason you came, to express your regrets?”
“Regrets!” Nefret exclaimed. “That is somewhat inadequate, Major. Do you know what happened to my husband after -”
“He doesn’t,” Ramses said, giving her a warning look. “I expect that is why he is here, to find out. I did make my report, Cartright, to General Chetwode.”
“I know, he forwarded it immediately, and I…” He cast a longing glance at the bottle of whiskey. “My relief, believe me, was inexpressible. But he gave me few details – which was quite in order, quite right of you to tell him no more than was necessary.”
“A basic rule of the Service,” said Ramses, in his even, pleasant voice. “You are, I suppose, entitled to know more. In a nutshell, then, I don’t know whether Ismail Pasha is the man you want or not. Chetwode didn’t give me time enough to make a determination. I was taken prisoner, as Chetwode was good enough to inform my family, but I managed to free myself later that night.” Forestalling further questions, he added, “That’s all I can tell you. Chetwode’s futile attack has made it virtually impossible for anyone to get near Ismail Pasha. They will guard him even more closely from now on.”
Cartright nodded grudgingly. “We certainly can’t try the same stunt again. Not for a while. I suppose you’ll be returning to Cairo at once, then. I will make the necessary arrangements.”
“We will make our own arrangements,” said Emerson. “When we are ready.”
The finality of his tone, and the inimical looks Cartright was getting from everyone in the room, should have convinced him that there was nothing more to be said. No one had offered him a whiskey or even a seat. Yet he lingered, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.
“Look here, old boy,” he exclaimed. “This is off the record, you know – but by Gad, that was well done! Chetwode was man enough to admit that you risked yourself to help him escape – and then to break yourself loose from a Turkish prison, and get through their lines… It was – confound it, it was deuced well done.”
“Oh, you know the Turks,” Ramses said. “Careless beggars.”
“All the same, I – er -” Military discipline or an inadequate vocabulary brought him to a stuttering stop. He straightened and snapped off a crisp salute. Ramses did not return it, but he nodded in acknowledgment, the corners of his mouth compressed.
“How absurd military persons are,” I remarked, after Cartright had marched stiffly out and Selim had slammed the door.
“Don’t underestimate him,” Ramses said softly.
“I don’t,” said Emerson. “He was trying to find out how long we mean to remain here. Perhaps I ought to have come up with an excuse for staying on, but I couldn’t think of one offhand; this isn’t the place one would choose for a holiday, and there are no archaeological remains of any interest.”
“Good Gad,” I exclaimed indignantly. “Do you think he is still suspicious of us? How insulting!”
Ramses laughed and rose, taking my empty glass from my hand. “You ought to consider it a compliment, Mother. ‘Suspicious’ is perhaps too strong a word, but a good intelligence officer doesn’t take chances with people whose behavior is, shall we say, unpredictable. It poses a bit of a problem. If we don’t start making arrangements to leave within the next day or two, he will assume we’re planning something underhanded and place us under surveillance. That’s what I would do.”
“Quite,” Emerson agreed. “Damnation! It doesn’t give us much time. Let us hope my – er – Sethos makes his move soon. Since you are on your feet, Ramses, another whiskey here, if you please. How long till dinner, Selim? That refreshing little episode has given me quite an appetite.”
“I do not know, Emerson. I have been at the door all afternoon, and the cook -”
“Yes, yes, my boy, that is quite all right. See what you can do to hurry him up, eh? You need not stand guard, we won’t have any more visitors tonight.”
In that he was mistaken. Not long after Selim had taken himself off, the aged doorman shuffled in to announce that another merchant had called. He had a carpet for sale, a very fine carpet, a silk carpet, a -
“Tell him to go away,” said Emerson. “We don’t want any carpets.”
The man bowed and wandered out. He was too late and too ineffectual to intercept the seller of carpets, however. The fellow had followed him.