“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 greeting 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.