`You're a cynic,' remarked Christopher. 'In view of what you've been through one can't blame you, but it seems strange that you should be able to laugh about the wickedness and stupidity which initiate such ghastliness.'
Why? Laughter, even though it be hollow, is the only thing left for people like myself. When I go up to Addis Ababa tomorrow , . ,' The Baron broke off as Lovelace suddenly appeared beside their table.
The two men were introduced. The elderly Austrian bowed courteously and pressed the Englishman to name any drink he would care to take with them.
'Sorry,' Lovelace replied rather curtly. `Another time perhaps. I'm afraid, too, that I have to break up the party, Valerie, my dear, I overslept a little and it's a quarter to nine already. We must be off.'
They said good bye to the sad faced Baron and, directly they were out of earshot, Lovelace snapped at Christopher: 'Did that fellow tell you anything about himself?,
'Yes, the history of his war days. He was a prisoner in Russia and had the most ghastly time. I wish all the people we're up against could be forced to go through those six years of his life.'
'The poor dear,' Valerie added. 'I could hardly keep from crying openly when he told us about his wife.'
Lovelace laughed angrily. "Lies, all of it, I'll bet a monkey. He was telling the tale to gain your sympathy and get in with you so that he could learn our plans.
You couldn't know it, but we've been run to earth again. The last time I saw that chap he was talking to the porter at the gate of a house you've good cause to remember just outside Athens. He's one of Zarrif’s men.'
15
Abu Ben Ibrim entertains
In the narrow hallway beyond the bar Lovelace pulled up the others and spoke in a low voice. 'Now Zarrif’s friend, the Baron, knows where we are, it's too big a risk to stay here any longer. We'd best collect our things, pay the bill, and get out while the goings good; otherwise we may be dead before the morning,'
'But where are we going to sleep?' asked Christopher.
`Lord knows! If we can't get rooms anywhere else we'll have to shake down in the plane again. I'm sorry, Valerie, but, honestly, after what happened in Alex, we should be mad to take any chances.'
She squeezed his arm. 'Don't worry about me; I'd rather spend the night in an open field than have any more marksmen taking pot shots at Christopher through a window. I’ll slip up and get my oddments packed. It won't take me five minutes. I'll pack for both of you, too.'
Leaving the two men to wrangle with the Levantine hotel proprietor and compensate him for their sudden departure, she ran swiftly upstairs. She had only just finished ramming the few belongings with which they travelled into their respective bags when Christopher joined her.
Two minutes later they were scrambling into one of the smart modern taxis that are Jibuti's pride, which Lovelace had secured in the meantime. He told the man to drive to Menelik Square, the centre of the town, and jumped in after them.
`Where do we go from there? We must find somewhere to park our bags before we visit old Ben Ibrim.'
He spoke more to himself than to the others, but Christopher answered: `Why not the police station? It's open all night and our things will be safe there. I expect we can find a friendly policeman who'll keep an eye on them if we make it worth his while.'
`Good for you,' Lovelace agreed, and gave fresh instructions to the driver.
The town had now stirred to movement, and the main boulevard swarmed with a motley throng. Turbaned, befezzed, topee'd, felt hatted representatives of fifty different nations jostled each other on the sidewalks. Taxis bearing Europeans, half breeds, and Japanese honked their way through the mob; skinny natives, clad only in coarse white cotton nightgowns, led strings of camels and heavily laden donkeys were being pushed, cursed and bludgeoned upon their slow footed ways by small, foul mouthed black boys.
At the police station a French sergeant with a little waxed moustache and a strong provincial accent, who breathed dense clouds of garlic at them, proved amenable to their request. When Christopher began to rustle a useful looking note between his fingers the man became as suave as a born hotel keeper, and one might have assumed that his principal function was the reception and care of strangers' luggage. At any hour they returned they would find it waiting, he said; more, for such distinguished visitors something must be done about accommodation for the night. True, the hotels were full, but the honour of France was impeached. He lived with his aunt, a widowed lady. She had one spare room and, as he was on duty all night, his own would be vacant. If Messieurs could make do in a double bed the affair would arrange itself. He would telephone instantly.
The proposal suited them far better than the sergeant knew. The fact that they had temporarily escaped the attentions of the doubtless spurious Baron did not exclude the possibility that every hotel in Jibuti would be scoured for them that night; but the chances were all against their being traced to the abode of the policeman's aunt, and, if they were, Zarrif’s associates would doubtless think twice before risking an attempt upon them if it was believed that they were more or less under police protection.
The offer was accepted. The sergeant would send one of his native police with them when they returned to collect their luggage so that they should have no difficulty in finding his aunt's house. In the meantime he would take steps at once to inform his aunt of their coming.
`That fellow's missed his vocation,' Christopher said when they got outside.
`He'll find it yet,' Lovelace laughed. `Most French Colonial officials live only for the day when they can return to France. You can always find a dozen of them sitting outside the principal cafe in any provincial town. When this chap's saved a bit he'll retire and, like as not, run a pub of his own. But I think it unwise, Christopher to bribe quite so heavily. I know it's not necessary for you to save your pennies, but those big notes that you keep handing out might make some people too inquisitive about us.'
Lovelace gave the taxi man Abu Ben Ibrim’s name, and he drove them to the old part of the town where he drew up before a barred gateway in a high, windowless wall. They got out and paid him off.
`I suppose it's all right to take Valerie into a place like this,' Christopher inquired a little doubtfully as he surveyed the ancient fortress like building which rose high above the others in the mean twisting street. `I take it the old rogue's a Mohammedan and their views differ from ours a good bit on the question of women.'
`It's rather unusual,' Lovelace admitted. They would never bring a woman if they came to call on us, of course, and I shouldn't have dreamed of bringing Valerie if we were just ordinary tourists in Jibuti and this was a social visit. The trouble is that ever since that attack on you in Alex. I've felt the three of us should stick together as far as we possibly can. He may think it a little strange that Valerie should be with us, but he'll probably take it as a great compliment and mark of friendliness. I don't think there's the least likelihood of her being subjected to any unpleasantness, and, in any case, all three of us are armed.'
`I wouldn't miss seeing the inside of this place for worlds,' Valerie declared.
Lovelace's plan was a simple one. When they saw Ben Ibrim he meant to pretend that they were friends of Zarrif’s and hoped to find him in Jibuti. It would be sheer bluff. Zirrif might be in Cairo or Khartoum for all they knew, but if Ben Ibrim were hand in glove with him, as was reported to be the case, they might be fortunate enough to trick the Arab into giving them some useful information.