The Golden One Read online

  “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.

  He was a tall man with a grizzled beard and a squint. The roll of carpet was slung over his shoulder. Taking hold of the door, he shut it in the doorkeeper’s face, lowered the rug to the floor, seized one end, and heaved.

  A rich tapestry of crimson and azure and gold unrolled, and from the end rolled a human form – a female form, wearing a rather tasteless and very crumpled frock of bright pink silk. Coughing and choking, it raised dirty hands to its eyes and rubbed them.

  “Christ Almighty,” said my son in a strangled voice.

  I was too thunderstruck to object to this expletive, and the others were equally stupefied. Naturally I was the first to recover. I looked from the girl, who seemed to be suffering nothing worse than the effects of being bundled up in a rug smelling of camel, to the merchant, who stood with hands on hips staring at me.

  “Back again, are you?” I inquired unnecessarily.

  “Not from the dead this time,” said Sethos. “I have brought you a little gift.”

  “In a rug?”

  “It worked for Cleopatra,” said my brother-in-law. The unfortunate female sneezed violently. Automatically I handed her a handkerchief.

  “I’m leaving her in your care for a few days,” Sethos went on. “Make certain no one gets to her.”

  Without further ado, he turned and strode toward the door. Emerson made a leap for him, caught him by the arm and spun him round, so vigorously that he staggered.

  “Not so fast. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Instead of trying to free himself from the hand that gripped his shoulder, Sethos stared at Emerson’s left sleeve, which had fallen back, exposing the cast.

  “How did that happen?” he asked.

  “An encounter with a tomb robber in Luxor,” Emerson replied. “One of yours?”

  “At present I have no business arrangements in Luxor. It’s like you,” he added in exasperation, “to go dashing into a war zone with a broken arm. Just sit tight for a few days, all of you. I can’t explain now; lowly merchants do not linger to chat with customers.”

  “Then we will meet you elsewhere,” I said firmly. “Later this evening. Where and when?”

  “For God’s sake, Amelia, be reasonable! There’s a noose round my neck and it’s getting tighter by the minute. If my absence is discovered… Oh, very well. I’ll try to meet you tomorrow night. Midnight – romantic, isn’t it? – at the ruined house in Dir el Balah. Ramses knows it.”

  “What?” Ramses tore his horrified gaze from the “gift.” “Yes, I know it. What the devil -”

  “Later. You shouldn’t have any trouble for another day or two. Oh – I almost forgot. You owe me four hundred and twenty piastres. That’s four and a half Turkish pounds,” he added helpfully. “Quite a bargain.”

  After he had bowed himself out, I was at leisure to turn my attention to the young woman. Nefret had led her to the divan and was helping her smooth the tangled strands of her long hair.

  “Would you like to freshen up a bit before we chat?” I inquired.

  “For God’s sake, Mother, this isn’t a social enc
ounter!” Ramses burst out. “You let him get away without answering any questions, let’s hear what she has to say.”

  She raised reproachful black eyes to his face. “Are you angry? I thought you would be happy to see me.”

  “He is,” said Nefret. A dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. “He just has an odd way of showing it. Mother, get her something to drink.”

  “Thank you, I would like that. And something to clean my face and hands.”

  She had the instincts of a lady, at any rate. The requested objects having been supplied, she wiped her face, and drank deeply of the cold tea. I had to keep telling Ramses to be quiet; he was fairly hopping with annoyance, but we owed the girl a little time to recover from her unusual and uncomfortable trip.

  “Now,” I said, after she had refreshed herself, “perhaps you can tell us, Miss… What is your name? Ramses didn’t mention it.”

  “We were never properly introduced,” Ramses said through his teeth.

  “Esin.”

  “How do you do.”

  “How do you do,” she repeated. “Are you his mother?”

  Another one, I thought. Ramses has that effect on susceptible young women. I had suspected as much, even from Ramses’s expurgated version of their encounter; the way she pronounced the masculine pronoun was a dead giveaway.

  “Yes,” I said. “And this is his father, Professor Emerson. And his wife.”

  “How do you do,” the girl said, with only the barest nod for Emerson. She examined Nefret carefully, and her dirty face fell.

  “Anyhow, I am glad to be here,” she said with a sigh. “My father has been very angry since you escaped.”

  “Did he blame you?” Ramses asked.

  “No, he thinks I am too stupid and too afraid of him.” She took another sip of tea. “He wanted to blame Ismail Pasha, but he could not, since they were together all that evening, and when Ismail Pasha went to his rooms, my father put guards at the door. To protect him from assassins, he said.”

  “Then how did he -”

  Nefret motioned Ramses to be silent. “How well do you know Ismail Pasha?” she asked.

  “I talked often with him. He is an Englishman, you know. I liked talking to him; he treated me like a person, not a woman, and let me practice my English and told me I was a clever girl.” She finished her tea and leaned back against the cushions.

  “I’m surprised your father let you talk freely with other men,” Nefret prodded.

  “He could not stop me.” Her dark eyes flashed. “In Constantinople many women are working now because of the war. I helped with the Red Crescent, rolling bandages. It was wonderful! We talked about sensible things, books and what was in the newspapers, and many new ideas. And we wore corsets and short skirts!”

  “I heard about that,” Nefret said. “Didn’t the government issue an order demanding that Moslem women lengthen their skirts, discard corsets, and wear thicker veils?”

  “They had to take back the order,” said this young advocate of women’s rights complacently. “We made them do it. The girls at the telephone company and the post office threatened to strike, and the ladies said they would not work for the Red Crescent anymore. But my father said I was keeping bad company, and made me come to Gaza with him, and it was so dull there. He tried to make me stay in the harem, but I got out whenever I could; it was fun, hiding from the men and exploring places where I was not supposed to be.”

  “The cellars,” Ramses murmured, visibly chagrined. He had underestimated her, and so had the rest of us. I had a sudden image of Esin face-to-face with Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst.

  Emerson had been listening in silence, his mouth ajar. Now he cleared his throat and said, “What about your father, child? He will be worried about you. Did you leave a message for him?”

  “No, why should I? He doesn’t care about me, I am only a piece of property to him. I have lived in England; I won’t go back to the veil and the harem and the selling of women. When Ismail Pasha told me my father had captured an English spy, I wanted to see him, so I hid myself in the mandarah, hoping they would bring you there – and they did! My father told them to take off your filthy clothing so they would not stain his cushions, and when they did, I saw that you were very beautiful.”

  Nefret choked. “I’m glad you find this amusing,” Ramses said sourly.

  “It is not amusing,” the girl insisted. “It is sad and very romantic. I did not know who you were, and when my father said he would give me to you I was happy, because you were so beautiful and so brave, and then – then you said you were already married and my heart cracked in two, because I knew an English gentleman would never be unfaithful -”

  “That’s quite enough of that,” said Ramses to his wife, who had covered her mouth with her hands in an attempt to muffle her laughter.

  “Quite,” I said, getting a grip on myself. The conversation had been extraordinary. “Nefret, take the – er – young lady off to the bath chamber and get her some clean clothing. That rug is absolutely filthy.”

  “Don’t say anything important until I get back,” Nefret ordered.

  The girl got to her feet. “Are you still angry with me?” she asked Ramses.

  “Good Lord, no. I – er – I owe you a great deal. More than I realized.” He smiled at her, and a blissful answering smile spread across her face.

  “You owe me nothing. I will treasure the memory of that kiss forever, even if you can never be mine.”

  After Nefret had removed the girl, the rest of us sat in silence, reflecting upon what we had learned. We were, in my opinion, becoming somewhat overburdened with strong-minded young women. I fixed a critical gaze upon my son.

  “The kiss was, perhaps, a mistake.”

  “It seemed the least I could do, Mother.”

  I think he was teasing me. One cannot always be sure with Ramses. I trusted he would find Nefret’s comments equally entertaining.

  “A kindly error, however,” I conceded. “We will not speak of it again.”

  “Extraordinary young woman,” said Emerson. He added gloomily, “I suppose we’re stuck with her.”

  “For the time being,” I agreed. “And we certainly cannot complain, considering what we owe her. We were dead wrong about her. She managed the whole business by herself.”

  “With a few hints from Ismail Pasha,” said Ramses. “Don’t give me that steely stare, Mother. I am not denying her intelligence and her courage, but I would be willing to wager that she went rushing off to her sympathetic English friend as soon as they removed my – er – beautiful self to the cells, and opened her heart to him. That gave him his opening, and no one is better at putting ideas into people’s heads. I can almost hear him, can’t you? ‘The cruelties of war… too young to die… your father forced against his will to destroy a gallant enemy… in his heart he’d be grateful to be relieved of that grim duty… ’ ”

  “She does seem to be a romantic young person,” I said. “And clever enough to work out the details, with, perhaps, a suggestion or two from Sethos. He had probably explored the house, including the cells – ‘just in case.’ Like myself, he believes in anticipating potential dangers. Nor would he have had any difficulty in persuading her to run away with him, to join the individual who had made such an impression on her susceptible heart.”

  “Now, Mother,” Ramses protested. “She was bored and restless, and annoyed with her father for dragging her off to Gaza, and fascinated by Sethos. It wouldn’t have required more than that.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “Admittedly her motives are less important than his. Why did he do it? Surely not to rescue a damsel in distress.”

  “Not Sethos,” said Emerson – who might have been fool enough to do just that. “He means to use her against her father, somehow or other. It would be confounded embarrassing for Sahin Bey – oh, very well, Pasha – to admit he had lost his daughter to the enemy. What would he be willing to give to get her back?”

  “We cannot
be party to any such scheme,” I declared. “I will not force a young woman against her will, no matter what is offered in exchange.”

  “Not even Sethos?” Ramses’s eyes were on the unlit cigarette he was rolling between his long fingers.

  “Oh, good Gad,” I said.

  11

  The night passed without incident, but in some discomfort. I felt it incumbent upon myself to keep the girl with me. She had been removed suddenly from her home and was in the company of strangers; a motherly presence would comfort her – and prevent her from leaving us, in case she changed her mind. Emerson attempted to convince me to change my mind, declaring that my habit of foreseeing difficulties that never arose had become, as he put it, deuced inconvenient. Unable to prevail, he went off to one of the small sleeping chambers in a considerable state of aggravation.

  Esin proved to be a noisy companion, breathing heavily through her nose and changing position every few minutes. However, there is a silver lining to every cloud; wakefulness gave me ample time for reflection. The situation had become even more confusing than before, and the possible permutations were manifold. If we did not make preparations to depart, Cartright might decide to place us under house arrest or remove us by force – for our own good, as he would explain. I did not trust him one inch, or believe in his protestations. Heaven only knew what Sethos would do next. I had never believed he was a traitor; I did not believe it now, though his real purpose was still a mystery. He had not exaggerated, however, when he spoke of a noose round his neck; a turncoat is automatically under suspicion, and Sahin, an old hand at the Game, was probably watching his every move. Ramses’s suggestion that Sethos had taken the girl as a possible bargaining counter, in case he was arrested, made a horribly convincing theory; in fact, it was the only reason I could think of why he might have taken that risk. Sahin Pasha was another unpredictable factor. What would he do when he discovered his daughter was missing?

  By morning I had formulated my plans. I explained them to the others over breakfast.