There was a knocking at the door. David opened it. Nahoum Pasha stepped inside, and stood still a moment looking at Hylda. Then he made low salutation to her, touched his hand to his lips and breast saluting David, and waited.
“What is thy business, pasha?” asked David quietly, and motioned towards a chair.
“May thy path be on the high hills, Saadat-el-basha. I come for a favour at thy hands.” Nahoum sat down. “What favour is mine to give to Nahoum Pasha?”
“The Prince has given thee supreme place—it was mine but yesterday. It is well. To the deserving be the fruits of deserving.”
“Is merit, then, so truly rewarded here?” asked David quietly.
“The Prince saw merit at last when he chose your Excellency for councillor.”
“How shall I show merit, then, in the eyes of Nahoum Pasha?”
“Even by urging the Prince to give me place under him again. Not as heretofore—that is thy place—yet where it may be. I have capacity. I can aid thee in the great task. Thou wouldst remake our Egypt—and my heart is with you. I would rescue, not destroy. In years gone by I tried to do good to this land, and I failed. I was alone. I had not the strength to fight the forces around me. I was overcome. I had too little faith. But my heart was with the right—I am an Armenian and a Christian of the ancient faith. I am in sorrow. Death has humbled me. My brother Foorgat Bey—may flowers bloom for ever on his grave!—he is dead,”—his eyes were fixed on those of David, as with a perfectly assured candour—“and my heart is like an empty house. But man must not be idle and live—if Kaid lets me live. I have riches. Are not Foorgat’s riches mine, his Palace, his gardens, his cattle, and his plantations, are they not mine? I may sit in the court-yard and hear the singers, may listen to the tale-tellers by the light of the moon; I may hear the tales of Al-Raschid chanted by one whose tongue never falters, and whose voice is like music; after the manner of the East I may give bread and meat to the poor at sunset; I may call the dancers to the feast. But what comfort shall it give? I am no longer a youth. I would work. I would labour for the land of Egypt, for by work shall we fulfil ourselves, redeem ourselves. Saadat, I would labour, but my master has taken away from me the anvil, the fire, and the hammer, and I sit without the door like an armless beggar. What work to do in Egypt save to help the land, and how shall one help, save in the Prince’s service? There can be no reform from outside. If I laboured for better things outside Kaid’s Palace, how long dost thou think I should escape the Nile, or the diamond-dust in my coffee? The work which I did, is it not so that it, with much more, falls now to thy hands, Saadat, with a confidence from Kaid that never was mine?”
“I sought not the office.”
“Have I a word of blame? I come to ask for work to do with thee. Do I not know Prince Kaid? He had come to distrust us all. As stale water were we in his taste. He had no pleasure in us, and in our deeds he found only stones of stumbling. He knew not whom to trust. One by one we all had yielded to ceaseless intrigue and common distrust of each other, until no honest man was left; till all were intent to save their lives by holding power; for in this land to lose power is to lose life. No man who has been in high place, has had the secrets of the Palace and the ear of the Prince, lives after he has lost favour. The Prince, for his safety, must ensure silence, and the only silence in Egypt is the grave. In thee, Saadat, Kaid has found an honest man. Men will call thee mad, if thou remainest honest, but that is within thine own bosom and with fate. For me, thou hast taken my place, and more. Malaish, it is the decree of fate, and I have no anger. I come to ask thee to save my life, and then to give me work.”
“How shall I save thy life?”
“By reconciling the Effendina to my living, and then by giving me service, where I shall be near to thee; where I can share with thee, though it be as the ant beside the beaver, the work of salvation in Egypt. I am rich since my brother was—” He paused; no covert look was in his eyes, no sign of knowledge, nothing but meditation and sorrowful frankness—“since Foorgat passed away in peace, praise be to God! He lay on his bed in the morning, when one came to wake him, like a sleeping child, no sign of the struggle of death upon him.”
A gasping sound came from the chair where Hylda sat; but he took no notice. He appeared to be unconscious of David’s pain-drawn face, as he sat with hands upon his knees, his head bent forward listening, as though lost to the world.
“So did Foorgat, my brother, die while yet in the fulness of his manhood, life beating high in his veins, with years before him to waste. He was a pleasure-lover, alas! he laid up no treasure of work accomplished; and so it was meet that he should die as he lived, in a moment of ease. And already he is forgotten. It is the custom here. He might have died by diamond-dust, and men would have set down their coffee-cups in surprise, and then would have forgotten; or he might have been struck down by the hand of an assassin, and, unless it was in the Palace, none would have paused to note it. And so the sands sweep over his steps upon the shore of time.”
After the first exclamation of horror, Hylda had sat rigid, listening as though under a spell. Through her veil she gazed at Nahoum with a cramping pain at her heart, for he seemed ever on the verge of the truth she dreaded; and when he spoke the truth, as though unconsciously, she felt she must cry out and rush from the room. He recalled to her the scene in the little tapestried room as vividly as though it was there before her eyes, and it had for the moment all the effect of a hideous nightmare. At last, however, she met David’s eyes, and they guided her, for in them was a steady strength and force which gave her confidence. At first he also had been overcome inwardly, but his nerves were cool, his head was clear, and he listened to Nahoum, thinking out his course meanwhile.
He owed this man much. He had taken his place, and by so doing had placed his life in danger. He had killed the brother upon the same day that he had dispossessed the favourite of office; and the debt was heavy. In office Nahoum had done after his kind, after the custom of the place and the people; and yet, as it would seem, the man had had stirrings within him towards a higher path. He, at any rate, had not amassed riches out of his position, and so much could not be said of any other servant of the Prince Pasha. Much he had heard of Nahoum’s powerful will, hidden under a genial exterior, and behind his friendly, smiling blue eyes. He had heard also of cruelty—of banishment, and of enemies removed from his path suddenly, never to be seen again; but, on the whole, men spoke with more admiration of him than of any other public servant, Armenian Christian in a Mahommedan country though he was. That very day Kaid had said that if Nahoum had been less eager to control the State, he might still have held his place. Besides, the man was a Christian—of a mystic, half-legendary, obscure Christianity; yet having in his mind the old faith, its essence and its meaning, perhaps. Might not this Oriental mind, with that faith, be a power to redeem the land? It was a wonderful dream, in which he found the way, as he thought, to atone somewhat to this man for a dark injury done.
When Nahoum stopped speaking David said: “But if I would have it, if it were well that it should be, I doubt I have the power to make it so.”
“Saadat-el-bdsha, Kaid believes in thee to-day; he will not believe to-morrow if thou dost remain without initiative. Action, however startling, will be proof of fitness. His Highness shakes a long spear. Those who ride with him must do battle with the same valour. Excellency, I have now great riches—since Death smote Foorgat Bey in the forehead”—still his eyes conveyed no meaning, though Hylda shrank back—“and I would use them for the good thou wouldst do here. Money will be needed, and sufficient will not be at thy hand-not till new ledgers be opened, new balances struck.”
He turned to Hylda quietly, and with a continued air of innocence said: “Shall it not be so-madame? Thou, I doubt not, are of his kin. It would seem so, though I ask pardon if it be not so—wilt thou not urge his Excellency to restore me to Kaid’s favour? I know little of the English, though I know them humane and honest; but my brother, Foorgat Bey, he was much among them, lived much in England, was a friend to many great English. Indeed, on the evening that he died I saw him in the gallery of the banquet-room with an English lady—can one be mistaken in an English face? Perhaps he cared for her; perhaps that was why he smiled as he lay upon his bed, never to move again. Madame, perhaps in England thou mayst have known my brother. If that is so, I ask thee to speak for me to his Excellency. My life is in danger, and I am too young to go as my brother went. I do not wish to die in middle age, as my brother died.”
He had gone too far. In David’s mind there was no suspicion that Nahoum knew the truth. The suggestion in his words had seemed natural; but, from the first, a sharp suspicion was in the mind of Hylda, and his last words had convinced her that if Nahoum did not surely know the truth, he suspected it all too well. Her instinct had pierced far; and as she realised his suspicions, perhaps his certainty, and heard his words of covert insult, which, as she saw, David did not appreciate, anger and determination grew in her. Yet she felt that caution must mark her words, and that nothing but danger lay in resentment. She felt the everlasting indignity behind the quiet, youthful eyes, the determined power of the man; but she saw also that, for the present, the course Nahoum suggested was the only course to take. And David must not even feel the suspicion in her own mind, that Nahoum knew or suspected the truth. If David thought that Nahoum knew, the end of all would come at once. It was clear, however, that Nahoum meant to be silent, or he would have taken another course of action. Danger lay in every direction, but, to her mind, the least danger lay in following Nahoum’s wish.
She slowly raised her veil, showing a face very still now, with eyes as steady as David’s. David started at her action, he thought it rash; but the courage of it pleased him, too.
“You are not mistaken,” she said slowly in French; “your brother was known to me. I had met him in England. It will be a relief to all his friends to know that he passed away peacefully.” She looked him in the eyes determinedly. “Monsieur Claridge is not my kinsman, but he is my fellow-countryman. If you mean well by monsieur, your knowledge and your riches should help him on his way. But your past is no guarantee of good faith, as you will acknowledge.”
He looked her in the eyes with a far meaning. “But I am giving guarantees of good faith now,” he said softly. “Will you—not?”
She understood. It was clear that he meant peace, for the moment at least.
“If I had influence I would advise him to reconcile you to Prince Kaid,” she said quietly, then turned to David with an appeal in her eyes.
David stood up. “I will do what I can,” he said. “If thee means as well by Egypt as I mean by thee, all may be well for all.”
“Saadat! Saadat!” said Nahoum, with show of assumed feeling, and made salutation. Then to Hylda, making lower salutation still, he said: “Thou hast lifted from my neck the yoke. Thou hast saved me from the shadow and the dust. I am thy slave.” His eyes were like a child’s, wide and confiding.
He turned towards the door, and was about to open it, when there came a knocking, and he stepped back. Hylda drew down her veil. David opened the door cautiously and admitted Mizraim the Chief Eunuch. Mizraim’s eyes searched the room, and found Nahoum.
“Pasha,” he said to Nahoum, “may thy bones never return to dust, nor the light of thine eyes darken! There is danger.”
Nahoum nodded, but did not speak.
“Shall I speak, then?” He paused and made low salutation to David, saying, “Excellency, I am thine ox to be slain.”
“Speak, son of the flowering oak,” said Nahoum, with a sneer in his voice. “What blessing dost thou bring?”
“The Effendina has sent for thee.”
Nahoum’s eyes flashed. “By thee, lion of Abdin?” The lean, ghastly being smiled. “He has sent a company of soldiers and Achmet Pasha.”
“Achmet! Is it so? They are here, Mizraim, watcher of the morning?”
“They are at thy palace—I am here, light of Egypt.”
“How knewest thou I was here?”
Mizraim salaamed. “A watch was set upon thee this morning early. The watcher was of my slaves. He brought the word to me that thou wast here now. A watcher also was set upon thee, Excellency”—he turned to David. “He also was of my slaves. Word was delivered to his Highness that thou”—he turned to Nahoum again—“wast in thy palace, and Achmet Pasha went thither. He found thee not. Now the city is full of watchers, and Achmet goes from bazaar to bazaar, from house to house which thou was wont to frequent—and thou art here.”
“What wouldst thou have me do, Mizraim?”
“Thou art here; is it the house of a friend or a foe?” Nahoum did not answer. His eyes were fixed in thought upon the floor, but he was smiling. He seemed without fear.
“But if this be the house of a friend, is he safe here?” asked David.
“For this night, it may be,” answered Mizraim, “till other watchers be set, who are no slaves of mine. Tonight, here, of all places in Cairo, he is safe; for who could look to find him where thou art who hast taken from him his place and office, Excellency—on whom the stars shine for ever! But in another day, if my lord Nahoum be not forgiven by the Effendina, a hundred watchers will pierce the darkest corner of the bazaar, the smallest room in Cairo.”
David turned to Nahoum. “Peace be to thee, friend. Abide here till to-morrow, when I will speak for thee to his Highness, and, I trust, bring thee pardon. It shall be so—but I shall prevail,” he added, with slow decision; “I shall prevail with him. My reasons shall convince his Highness.”
“I can help thee with great reasons, Saadat,” said Nahoum. “Thou shalt prevail. I can tell thee that which will convince Kaid.”
While they were speaking, Hylda had sat motionless watching. At first it seemed to her that a trap had been set, and that David was to be the victim of Oriental duplicity; but revolt, as she did, from the miserable creature before them, she saw at last that he spoke the truth.
“Thee will remain under this roof to-night, pasha?” asked David.
“I will stay if thy goodness will have it so,” answered Nahoum slowly. “It is not my way to hide, but when the storm comes it is well to shelter.”
Salaaming low, Mizraim withdrew, his last glance being thrown towards Hylda, who met his look with a repugnance which made her face rigid. She rose and put on her gloves. Nahoum rose also, and stood watching her respectfully.
“Thee will go?” asked David, with a movement towards her.
She inclined her head. “We have finished our business, and it is late,” she answered.
David looked at Nahoum. “Thee will rest here, pasha, in peace. In a moment I will return.” He took up his hat.
There was a sudden flash of Nahoum’s eyes, as though he saw an outcome of the intention which pleased him, but Hylda, saw the flash, and her senses were at once alarmed.
“There is no need to accompany me,” she said. “My cousin waits for me.”
David opened the door leading into the court-yard. It was dark, save for the light of a brazier of coals. A short distance away, near the outer gate, glowed a star of red light, and the fragrance of a strong cigar came over.
“Say, looking for me?” said a voice, and a figure moved towards David. “Yours to command, pasha, yours to command.” Lacey from Chicago held out his hand.
“Thee is welcome, friend,” said David.
“She’s ready, I suppose. Wonderful person, that. Stands on her own feet every time. She don’t seem as though she came of the same stock as me, does she?”
“I will bring her if thee will wait, friend.”
“I’m waiting.” Lacey drew back to the gateway again and leaned against the wall, his cigar blazing in the dusk.
A moment later David appeared in the garden again, with the slim, graceful figure of the girl who stood “upon her own feet.” David drew her aside for a moment. “Thee is going at once to England?” he asked.
“To-morrow to Alexandria. There is a steamer next day for Marseilles. In a fortnight more I shall be in England.”
“Thee must forget Egypt,” he said. “Remembrance is not a thing of the will,” she answered.
“It is thy duty to forget. Thee is young, and it is spring with thee. Spring should be in thy heart. Thee has seen a shadow; but let it not fright thee.”
“My only fear is that I may forget,” she answered.
“Yet thee will forget.”
With a motion towards Lacey he moved to the gate. Suddenly she turned to him and touched his arm. “You will be a great man herein Egypt,” she said. “You will have enemies without number. The worst of your enemies always will be your guest to-night.”
He did not, for a moment, understand. “Nahoum?” he asked. “I take his place. It would not be strange; but I will win him to me.”
“You will never win him,” she answered. “Oh, trust my instinct in this! Watch him. Beware of him.” David smiled slightly. “I shall have need to beware of many. I am sure thee does well to caution me. Farewell,” he added.
“If it should be that I can ever help you—” she said, and paused.
“Thee has helped me,” he replied. “The world is a desert. Caravans from all quarters of the sun meet at the cross-roads. One gives the other food or drink or medicine, and they move on again. And all grows dim with time. And the camel-drivers are forgotten; but the cross-roads remain, and the food and the drink and the medicine and the cattle helped each caravan upon the way. Is it not enough?”
She placed her hand in his. It lay there for a moment. “God be with thee, friend,” he said.
The next instant Thomas Tilman Lacey’s drawling voice broke the silence.
“There’s something catching about these nights in Egypt. I suppose it’s the air. No wind—just the stars, and the ultramarine, and the nothing to do but lay me down and sleep. It doesn’t give you the jim-jumps like Mexico. It makes you forget the world, doesn’t it? You’d do things here that you wouldn’t do anywhere else.”
The gate was opened by the bowab, and the two passed through. David was standing by the brazier, his hand held unconsciously over the coals, his eyes turned towards them. The reddish flame from the fire lit up his face under the broad-brimmed hat. His head, slightly bowed, was thrust forward to the dusk. Hylda looked at him steadily for a moment. Their eyes met, though hers were in the shade. Again Lacey spoke. “Don’t be anxious. I’ll see her safe back. Good-bye. Give my love to the girls.”
David stood looking at the closed gate with eyes full of thought and wonder and trouble. He was not thinking of the girl. There was no sentimental reverie in his look. Already his mind was engaged in scrutiny of the circumstances in which he was set. He realised fully his situation. The idealism which had been born with him had met its reward in a labour herculean at the least, and the infinite drudgery of the practical issues came in a terrible pressure of conviction to his mind. The mind did not shrink from any thought of the dangers in which he would be placed, from any vision of the struggle he must have with intrigue, and treachery and vileness. In a dim, half-realised way he felt that honesty and truth would be invincible weapons with a people who did not know them. They would be embarrassed, if not baffled, by a formula of life and conduct which they could not understand.
It was not these matters that vexed him now, but the underlying forces of life set in motion by the blow which killed a fellow-man. This fact had driven him to an act of redemption unparalleled in its intensity and scope; but he could not tell—and this was the thought that shook his being—how far this act itself, inspiring him to a dangerous and immense work in life, would sap the best that was in him, since it must remain a secret crime, for which he could not openly atone. He asked himself as he stood by the brazier, the bowab apathetically rolling cigarettes at his feet, whether, in the flow of circumstance, the fact that he could not make open restitution, or take punishment for his unlawful act, would undermine the structure of his character. He was on the threshold of his career: action had not yet begun; he was standing like a swimmer on a high shore, looking into depths beneath which have never been plumbed by mortal man, wondering what currents, what rocks, lay beneath the surface of the blue. Would his strength, his knowledge, his skill, be equal to the enterprise? Would he emerge safe and successful, or be carried away by some strong undercurrent, be battered on unseen rocks?
He turned with a calm face to the door behind which sat the displaced favourite of the Prince, his mind at rest, the trouble gone out of his eyes.
“Uncle Benn! Uncle Benn!” he said to himself, with a warmth at his heart as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Nahoum sat sipping coffee. A cigarette was between his fingers. He touched his hand to his forehead and his breast as David closed the door and hung his hat upon a nail. David’s servant, Mahommed Hassan, whom he had had since first he came to Egypt, was gliding from the room—a large, square-shouldered fellow of over six feet, dressed in a plain blue yelek, but on his head the green turban of one who had done a pilgrimage to Mecca. Nahoum waved a hand after Mahommed and said:
“Whence came thy servant sadat?”
“He was my guide to Cairo. I picked him from the street.”
Nahoum smiled. There was no malice in the smile, only, as it might seem, a frank humour. “Ah, your Excellency used independent judgment. Thou art a judge of men. But does it make any difference that the man is a thief and a murderer—a murderer?”
David’s eyes darkened, as they were wont to do when he was moved or shocked.
“Shall one only deal, then, with those who have neither stolen nor slain—is that the rule of the just in Egypt?”
Nahoum raised his eyes to the ceiling as though in amiable inquiry, and began to finger a string of beads as a nun might tell her paternosters. “If that were the rule,” he answered, after a moment, “how should any man be served in Egypt? Hereabouts is a man’s life held cheap, else I had not been thy guest to-night; and Kaid’s Palace itself would be empty, if every man in it must be honest. But it is the custom of the place for political errors to be punished by a hidden hand; we do not call it murder.”
“What is murder, friend?”
“It is such a crime as that of Mahommed yonder, who killed—”
David interposed. “I do not wish to know his crime. That is no affair between thee and me.”
Nahoum fingered his beads meditatively. “It was an affair of the housetops in his town of Manfaloot. I have only mentioned it because I know what view the English take of killing, and how set thou art to have thy household above reproach, as is meet in a Christian home. So, I took it, would be thy mind—which Heaven fill with light for Egypt’s sake!—that thou wouldst have none about thee who were not above reproach, neither liars, nor thieves, nor murderers.”
“But thee would serve with me, friend,” rejoined David quietly. “Thee has men’s lives against thy account.”
“Else had mine been against their account.”
“Was it not so with Mahommed? If so, according to the custom of the land, then Mahommed is as immune as thou art.”
“Saadat, like thee I am a Christian, yet am I also Oriental, and what is crime with one race is none with another. At the Palace two days past thou saidst thou hadst never killed a man; and I know that thy religion condemns killing even in war. Yet in Egypt thou wilt kill, or thou shalt thyself be killed, and thy aims will come to naught. When, as thou wouldst say, thou hast sinned, hast taken a man’s life, then thou wilt understand. Thou wilt keep this fellow Mahommed, then?”
“I understand, and I will keep him.”
“Surely thy heart is large and thy mind great. It moveth above small things. Thou dost not seek riches here?”
“I have enough; my wants are few.”
“There is no precedent for one in office to withhold his hand from profit and backsheesh.”
“Shall we not try to make a precedent?”
“Truthfulness will be desolate—like a bird blown to sea, beating ‘gainst its doom.”
“Truth will find an island in the sea.”
“If Egypt is that sea, Saadat, there is no island.”
David came over close to Nahoum, and looked him in the eyes.
“Surely I can speak to thee, friend, as to one understanding. Thou art a Christian—of the ancient fold. Out of the East came the light. Thy Church has preserved the faith. It is still like a lamp in the mist and the cloud in the East. Thou saidst but now that thy heart was with my purpose. Shall the truth that I would practise here not find an island in this sea—and shall it not be the soul of Nahoum Pasha?”
“Have I not given my word? Nay, then, I swear it by the tomb of my brother, whom Death met in the highway, and because he loved the sun, and the talk of men, and the ways of women, rashly smote him out of the garden of life into the void. Even by his tomb I swear it.”
“Hast thou, then, such malice against Death? These things cannot happen save by the will of God.”
“And by the hand of man. But I have no cause for revenge. Foorgat died in his sleep like a child. Yet if it had been the hand of man, Prince Kaid or any other, I would not have held my hand until I had a life for his.”
“Thou art a Christian, yet thou wouldst meet one wrong by another?”
“I am an Oriental.” Then, with a sudden change of manner, he added: “But thou hast a Christianity the like of which I have never seen. I will learn of thee, Saadat, and thou shalt learn of me also many things which I know. They will help thee to understand Egypt and the place where thou wilt be set—if so be my life is saved, and by thy hand.”
Mahommed entered, and came to David. “Where wilt thou sleep, Saadat?” he asked.
“The pasha will sleep yonder,” David replied, pointing to another room. “I will sleep here.” He laid a hand upon the couch where he sat.
Nahoum rose and, salaaming, followed Mahommed to the other room.
In a few moments the house was still, and remained so for hours. Just before dawn the curtain of Nahoum’s room was drawn aside, the Armenian entered stealthily, and moved a step towards the couch where David lay. Suddenly he was stopped by a sound. He glanced towards a corner near David’s feet. There sat Mahommed watching, a neboot of dom-wood across his knees.
Their eyes remained fixed upon each other for a moment. Then Nahoum passed back into his bedroom as stealthily as he had come.
Mahommed looked closely at David. He lay with an arm thrown over his head, resting softly, a moisture on his forehead as on that of a sleeping child.
“Saadat! Saadat!” said Mahommed softly to the sleeping figure, scarcely above his breath, and then with his eyes upon the curtained room opposite, began to whisper words from the Koran:
“In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful—”
Achmet the Ropemaker was ill at ease. He had been set a task in which he had failed. The bright Cairene sun starkly glittering on the French chandeliers and Viennese mirrors, and beating on the brass trays and braziers by the window, irritated him. He watched the flies on the wall abstractedly; he listened to the early peripatetic salesmen crying their wares in the streets leading to the Palace; he stroked his cadaverous cheek with yellow fingers; he listened anxiously for a footstep. Presently he straightened himself up, and his fingers ran down the front of his coat to make sure that it was buttoned from top to bottom. He grew a little paler. He was less stoical and apathetic than most Egyptians. Also he was absurdly vain, and he knew that his vanity would receive rough usage.
Now the door swung open, and a portly figure entered quickly. For so large a man Prince Kaid was light and subtle in his movements. His face was mobile, his eye keen and human.
Achmet salaamed low. “The gardens of the First Heaven be thine, and the uttermost joy, Effendina,” he said elaborately.
“A thousand colours to the rainbow of thy happiness,” answered Kaid mechanically, and seated himself cross-legged on a divan, taking a narghileh from the black slave who had glided ghostlike behind him.
“What hour didst thou find him? Where hast thou placed him?” he added, after a moment.
Achmet salaamed once more. “I have burrowed without ceasing, but the holes are empty, Effendina,” he returned, abjectly and nervously.
He had need to be concerned. The reply was full of amazement and anger. “Thou hast not found him? Thou hast not brought Nahoum to me?” Kaid’s eyes were growing reddish; no good sign for those around him, for any that crossed him or his purposes.
“A hundred eyes failed to search him out. Ten thousand piastres did not find him; the kourbash did not reveal him.”
Kaid’s frown grew heavier. “Thou shalt bring Nahoum to me by midnight to-morrow!”
“But if he has escaped, Effendina?” Achmet asked desperately. He had a peasant’s blood; fear of power was ingrained.
“What was thy business but to prevent escape? Son of a Nile crocodile, if he has escaped, thou too shalt escape from Egypt—into Fazougli. Fool, Nahoum is no coward. He would remain. He is in Egypt.”
“If he be in Egypt, I will find him, Effendina. Have I ever failed? When thou hast pointed, have I not brought? Have there not been many, Effendina? Should I not bring Nahoum, who has held over our heads the rod?”
Kaid looked at him meditatively, and gave no answer to the question. “He reached too far,” he muttered. “Egypt has one master only.”
The door opened softly and the black slave stole in. His lips moved, but scarce a sound travelled across the room. Kaid understood, and made a gesture. An instant afterwards the vast figure of Higli Pasha bulked into the room. Again there were elaborate salutations and salaams, and Kaid presently said:
“Foorgat?”
“Effendina,” answered High, “it is not known how he died. He was in this Palace alive at night. In the morning he was found in bed at his own home.”
“There was no wound?”
“None, Effendina.”
“The thong?”
“There was no mark, Effendina.”
“Poison?”
“There was no sign, Effendina.”
“Diamond-dust?”
“Impossible, Effendina. There was not time. He was alive and well here at the Palace at eleven, and—” Kaid made an impatient gesture. “By the stone in the Kaabah, but it is not reasonable that Foorgat should die in his bed like a babe and sleep himself into heaven! Fate meant him for a violent end; but ere that came there was work to do for me. He had a gift for scenting treason—and he had treasure.” His eyes shut and opened again with a look not pleasant to see. “But since it was that he must die so soon, then the loan he promised must now be a gift from the dead, if he be dead, if he be not shamming. Foorgat was a dire jester.”
“But now it is no jest, Effendina. He is in his grave.”
“In his grave! Bismillah! In his grave, dost thou say?”
High’s voice quavered. “Yesterday before sunset, Effendina. By Nahoum’s orders.”
“I ordered the burial for to-day. By the gates of hell, but who shall disobey me!”
“He was already buried when the Effendina’s orders came,” High pleaded anxiously.
“Nahoum should have been taken yesterday,” he rejoined, with malice in his eyes.
“If I had received the orders of the Effendina on the night when the Effendina dismissed Nahoum—” Achmet said softly, and broke off.
“A curse upon thine eyes that did not see thy duty!” Kaid replied gloomily. Then he turned to High. “My seal has been put upon Foorgat’s doors? His treasure-places have been found? The courts have been commanded as to his estate, the banks—”
“It was too late, Effendina,” replied High hopelessly. Kaid got to his feet slowly, rage possessing him. “Too late! Who makes it too late when I command?”
“When Foorgat was found dead, Nahoum at once seized the palace and the treasures. Then he went to the courts and to the holy men, and claimed succession. That was while it was yet early morning. Then he instructed the banks. The banks hold Foorgat’s fortune against us, Effendina.”
“Foorgat had turned Mahommedan. Nahoum is a Christian. My will is law. Shall a Christian dog inherit from a true believer? The courts, the Wakfs shall obey me. And thou, son of a burnt father, shalt find Nahoum! Kaid shall not be cheated. Foorgat pledged the loan. It is mine. Allah scorch thine eyes!” he added fiercely to Achmet, “but thou shalt find this Christian gentleman, Nahoum.”
Suddenly, with a motion of disgust, he sat down, and taking the stem of the narghileh, puffed vigorously in silence. Presently in a red fury he cried: “Go—go—go, and bring me back by midnight Nahoum, and Foorgat’s treasures, to the last piastre. Let every soldier be a spy, if thine own spies fail.”
As they turned to go, the door opened again, the black slave appeared, and ushered David into the room. David salaamed, but not low, and stood still.
On the instant Kaid changed, The rage left his face. He leaned forward eagerly, the cruel and ugly look faded slowly from his eyes.
“May thy days of life be as a river with sands of gold, effendi,” he said gently. He had a voice like music. “May the sun shine in thy heart and fruits of wisdom flourish there, Effendina,” answered David quietly. He saluted the others gravely, and his eyes rested upon Achmet in a way which Higli Pasha noted for subsequent gossip.
Kaid pulled at his narghileh for a moment, mumbling good-humouredly to himself and watching the smoke reel away; then, with half-shut eyes, he said to David: “Am I master in Egypt or no, effendi?”
“In ruling this people the Prince of Egypt stands alone,” answered David. “There is no one between him and the people. There is no Parliament.”
“It is in my hand, then, to give or to withhold, to make or to break?” Kaid chuckled to have this tribute, as he thought, from a Christian, who did not blink at Oriental facts, and was honest.
David bowed his head to Kaid’s words.
“Then if it be my hand that lifts up or casts down, that rewards or that punishes, shall my arm not stretch into the darkest corner of Egypt to bring forth a traitor? Shall it not be so?”
“It belongs to thy power,” answered David. “It is the ancient custom of princes here. Custom is law, while it is yet the custom.”
Kaid looked at him enigmatically for a moment, then smiled grimly—he saw the course of the lance which David had thrown. He bent his look fiercely on Achmet and Higli. “Ye have heard. Truth is on his lips. I have stretched out my arm. Ye are my arm, to reach for and gather in Nahoum and all that is his.” He turned quickly to David again. “I have given this hawk, Achmet, till to-morrow night to bring Nahoum to me,” he explained.
“And if he fails—a penalty? He will lose his place?” asked David, with cold humour.
“More than his place,” Kaid rejoined, with a cruel smile.
“Then is his place mine, Effendina,” rejoined David, with a look which could give Achmet no comfort. “Thou will bring Nahoum—thou?” asked Kaid, in amazement.
“I have brought him,” answered David. “Is it not my duty to know the will of the Effendina and to do it, when it is just and right?”
“Where is he—where does he wait?” questioned Kaid eagerly.
“Within the Palace—here,” replied David. “He awaits his fate in thine own dwelling, Effendina.” Kaid glowered upon Achmet. “In the years which Time, the Scytheman, will cut from thy life, think, as thou fastest at Ramadan or feastest at Beiram, how Kaid filled thy plate when thou wast a beggar, and made thee from a dog of a fellah into a pasha. Go to thy dwelling, and come here no more,” he added sharply. “I am sick of thy yellow, sinful face.”
Achmet made no reply, but, as he passed beyond the door with Higli, he said in a whisper: “Come—to Harrik and the army! He shall be deposed. The hour is at hand.” High answered him faintly, however. He had not the courage of the true conspirator, traitor though he was.
As they disappeared, Kaid made a wide gesture of friendliness to David, and motioned to a seat, then to a narghileh. David seated himself, took the stem of a narghileh in his mouth for an instant, then laid it down again and waited.
“Nahoum—I do not understand,” Kaid said presently, his eyes gloating.
“He comes of his own will, Effendina.”
“Wherefore?” Kaid could not realise the truth. This truth was not Oriental on the face of it. “Effendina, he comes to place his life in thy hands. He would speak with thee.”
“How is it thou dost bring him?”
“He sought me to plead for him with thee, and because I knew his peril, I kept him with me and brought him hither but now.”
“Nahoum went to thee?” Kaid’s eyes peered abstractedly into the distance between the almost shut lids. That Nahoum should seek David, who had displaced him from his high office, was scarcely Oriental, when his every cue was to have revenge on his rival. This was a natural sequence to his downfall. It was understandable. But here was David safe and sound. Was it, then, some deeper scheme of future vengeance? The Oriental instinctively pierced the mind of the Oriental. He could have realised fully the fierce, blinding passion for revenge which had almost overcome Nahoum’s calculating mind in the dark night, with his foe in the next room, which had driven him suddenly from his bed to fall upon David, only to find Mahommed Hassan watching—also with the instinct of the Oriental.
Some future scheme of revenge? Kaid’s eyes gleamed red. There would be no future for Nahoum. “Why did Nahoum go to thee?” he asked again presently.
“That I might beg his life of thee, Highness, as I said,” David replied.
“I have not ordered his death.”
David looked meditatively at him. “It was agreed between us yesterday that I should speak plainly—is it not so?”
Kaid nodded, and leaned back among the cushions.
“If what the Effendina intends is fulfilled, there is no other way but death for Nahoum,” added David. “What is my intention, effendi?”
“To confiscate the fortune left by Foorgat Bey. Is it not so?”
“I had a pledge from Foorgat—a loan.”
“That is the merit of the case, Effendina. I am otherwise concerned. There is the law. Nahoum inherits. Shouldst thou send him to Fazougli, he would still inherit.”
“He is a traitor.”
“Highness, where is the proof?”
“I know. My friends have disappeared one by one—Nahoum. Lands have been alienated from me—Nahoum. My income has declined—Nahoum. I have given orders and they have not been fulfilled—Nahoum. Always, always some rumour of assassination, or of conspiracy, or the influence and secret agents of the Sultan—all Nahoum. He is a traitor. He has grown rich while I borrow from Europe to pay my army and to meet the demands of the Sultan.”
“What man can offer evidence in this save the Effendina who would profit by his death?”
“I speak of what I know. I satisfy myself. It is enough.”
“Highness, there is a better way; to satisfy the people, for whom thee lives. None should stand between. Is not the Effendina a father to them?”
“The people! Would they not say Nahoum had got his due if he were blotted from their sight?”
“None has been so generous to the poor, so it is said by all. His hand has been upon the rich only. Now, Effendina, he has brought hither the full amount of all he has received and acquired in thy service. He would offer it in tribute.”
Kaid smiled sardonically. “It is a thin jest. When a traitor dies the State confiscates his goods!”
“Thee calls him traitor. Does thee believe he has ever conspired against thy life?”
Kaid shrugged his shoulders.
“Let me answer for thee, Effendina. Again and again he has defeated conspiracy. He has blotted it out—by the sword and other means. He has been a faithful servant to his Prince at least. If he has done after the manner of all others in power here, the fault is in the system, not in the man alone. He has been a friend to thee, Kaid.”
“I hope to find in thee a better.”
“Why should he not live?”
“Thou hast taken his place.”
“Is it, then, the custom to destroy those who have served thee, when they cease to serve?” David rose to his feet quickly. His face was shining with a strange excitement. It gave him a look of exaltation, his lips quivered with indignation. “Does thee kill because there is silence in the grave?”
Kaid blew a cloud of smoke slowly. “Silence in the grave is a fact beyond dispute,” he said cynically.
“Highness, thee changes servants not seldom,” rejoined David meaningly. “It may be that my service will be short. When I go, will the long arm reach out for me in the burrows where I shall hide?”
Kaid looked at him with ill-concealed admiration. “Thou art an Englishman, not an Egyptian, a guest, not a subject, and under no law save my friendship.” Then he added scornfully: “When an Englishman in England leaves office, no matter how unfaithful, though he be a friend of any country save his own, they send him to the House of Lords—or so I was told in France when I was there. What does it matter to thee what chances to Nahoum? Thou hast his place with me. My secrets are thine. They shall all be thine—for years I have sought an honest man. Thou art safe whether to go or to stay.”
“It may be so. I heed it not. My life is as that of a gull—if the wind carry it out to sea, it is lost. As my uncle went I shall go one day. Thee will never do me ill; but do I not know that I shall have foes at every corner, behind every mooshrabieh screen, on every mastaba, in the pasha’s court-yard, by every mosque? Do I not know in what peril I serve Egypt?”
“Yet thou wouldst keep alive Nahoum! He will dig thy grave deep, and wait long.”
“He will work with me for Egypt, Effendina.” Kaid’s face darkened.
“What is thy meaning?”
“I ask Nahoum’s life that he may serve under me, to do those things thou and I planned yesterday—the land, taxation, the army, agriculture, the Soudan. Together we will make Egypt better and greater and richer—the poor richer, even though the rich be poorer.”
“And Kaid—poorer?”
“When Egypt is richer, the Prince is richer, too. Is not the Prince Egypt? Highness, yesterday—yesterday thee gave me my commission. If thee will not take Nahoum again into service to aid me, I must not remain. I cannot work alone.”
“Thou must have this Christian Oriental to work with thee?” He looked at David closely, then smiled sardonically, but with friendliness to David in his eyes. “Nahoum has prayed to work with thee, to be a slave where he was master? He says to thee that he would lay his heart upon the altar of Egypt?” Mordant, questioning humour was in his voice.
David inclined his head.
“He would give up all that is his?”
“It is so, Effendina.”
“All save Foorgat’s heritage?”
“It belonged to their father. It is a due inheritance.”
Kaid laughed sarcastically. “It was got in Mehemet Ali’s service.”
“Nathless, it is a heritage, Effendina. He would give that fortune back again to Egypt in work with me, as I shall give of what is mine, and of what I am, in the name of God, the all-merciful!”
The smile faded out of Kaid’s face, and wonder settled on it. What manner of man was this? His life, his fortune for Egypt, a country alien to him, which he had never seen till six months ago! What kind of being was behind the dark, fiery eyes and the pale, impassioned face? Was he some new prophet? If so, why should he not have cast a spell upon Nahoum? Had he not bewitched himself, Kaid, one of the ablest princes since Alexander or Amenhotep? Had Nahoum, then, been mastered and won? Was ever such power? In how many ways had it not been shown! He had fought for his uncle’s fortune, and had got it at last yesterday without a penny of backsheesh. Having got his will, he was now ready to give that same fortune to the good of Egypt—but not to beys and pashas and eunuchs (and that he should have escaped Mizraim was the marvel beyond all others!), or even to the Prince Pasha; but to that which would make “Egypt better and greater and richer—the poor richer, even though the rich be poorer!” Kaid chuckled to himself at that. To make the rich poorer would suit him well, so long as he remained rich. And, if riches could be got, as this pale Frank proposed, by less extortion from the fellah and less kourbash, so much the happier for all.
He was capable of patriotism, and this Quaker dreamer had stirred it in him a little. Egypt, industrial in a real sense; Egypt, paying her own way without tyranny and loans: Egypt, without corvee, and with an army hired from a full public purse; Egypt, grown strong and able to resist the suzerainty and cruel tribute—that touched his native goodness of heart, so long, in disguise; it appealed to the sense of leadership in him; to the love of the soil deep in his bones; to regard for the common people—for was not his mother a slave? Some distant nobleness trembled in him, while yet the arid humour of the situation flashed into his eyes, and, getting to his feet, he said to David: “Where is Nahoum?”
David told him, and he clapped his hands. The black slave entered, received an order, and disappeared. Neither spoke, but Kaid’s face was full of cheerfulness.
Presently Nahoum entered and salaamed low, then put his hand upon his turban. There was submission, but no cringing or servility in his manner. His blue eyes looked fearlessly before him. His face was not paler than its wont. He waited for Kaid to speak.
“Peace be to thee,” Kaid murmured mechanically.
“And to thee, peace, O Prince,” answered Nahoum. “May the feet of Time linger by thee, and Death pass thy house forgetful.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Kaid spoke again. “What are thy properties and treasure?” he asked sternly.
Nahoum drew forth a paper from his sleeve, and handed it to Kaid without a word. Kaid glanced at it hurriedly, then said: “This is but nothing. What hast thou hidden from me?”
“It is all I have got in thy service, Highness,” he answered boldly. “All else I have given to the poor; also to spies—and to the army.”
“To spies—and to the army?” asked Kaid slowly, incredulously.
“Wilt thou come with me to the window, Effendina?” Kaid, wondering, went to the great windows which looked on to the Palace square. There, drawn up, were a thousand mounted men as black as ebony, wearing shining white metal helmets and fine chain-armour and swords and lances like medieval crusaders. The horses, too, were black, and the mass made a barbaric display belonging more to another period in the world’s history. This regiment of Nubians Kaid had recruited from the far south, and had maintained at his own expense. When they saw him at the window now, their swords clashed on their thighs and across their breasts, and they raised a great shout of greeting.
“Well?” asked Kaid, with a ring to the voice. “They are loyal, Effendina, every man. But the army otherwise is honeycombed with treason. Effendina, my money has been busy in the army paying and bribing officers, and my spies were costly. There has been sedition—conspiracy; but until I could get the full proofs I waited; I could but bribe and wait. Were it not for the money I had spent, there might have been another Prince of Egypt.”
Kald’s face darkened. He was startled, too. He had been taken unawares. “My brother Harrik—!”
“And I should have lost my place, lost all for which I cared. I had no love for money; it was but a means. I spent it for the State—for the Effendina, and to keep my place. I lost my place, however, in another way.”
“Proofs! Proofs!” Kaid’s voice was hoarse with feeling.
“I have no proofs against Prince Harrik, no word upon paper. But there are proofs that the army is seditious, that, at any moment, it may revolt.”
“Thou hast kept this secret?” questioned Kaid darkly and suspiciously.
“The time had not come. Read, Effendina,” he added, handing some papers over.
“But it is the whole army!” said Kaid aghast, as he read. He was convinced.
“There is only one guilty,” returned Nahoum. Their eyes met. Oriental fatalism met inveterate Oriental distrust and then instinctively Kaid’s eyes turned to David. In the eyes of the Inglesi was a different thing. The test of the new relationship had come. Ferocity was in his heart, a vitriolic note was in his voice as he said to David, “If this be true—the army rotten, the officers disloyal, treachery under every tunic—bismillah, speak!”
“Shall it not be one thing at a time, Effendina?” asked David. He made a gesture towards Nahoum. Kaid motioned to a door. “Wait yonder,” he said darkly to Nahoum. As the door opened, and Nahoum disappeared leisurely and composedly, David caught a glimpse of a guard of armed Nubians in leopard-skins filed against the white wall of the other room.
“What is thy intention towards Nahoum, Effendina?” David asked presently.
Kaid’s voice was impatient. “Thou hast asked his life—take it; it is thine; but if I find him within these walls again until I give him leave, he shall go as Foorgat went.”
“What was the manner of Foorgat’s going?” asked David quietly.
“As a wind blows through a court-yard, and the lamp goes out, so he went—in the night. Who can say? Wherefore speculate? He is gone. It is enough. Were it not for thee, Egypt should see Nahoum no more.”
David sighed, and his eyes closed for an instant. “Effendina, Nahoum has proved his faith—is it not so?” He pointed to the documents in Kaid’s hands.
A grim smile passed over Kaid’s face. Distrust of humanity, incredulity, cold cynicism, were in it. “Wheels within wheels, proofs within proofs,” he said. “Thou hast yet to learn the Eastern heart. When thou seest white in the East, call it black, for in an instant it will be black. Malaish, it is the East! Have I not trusted—did I not mean well by all? Did I not deal justly? Yet my justice was but darkness of purpose, the hidden terror to them all. So did I become what thou findest me and dost believe me—a tyrant, in whose name a thousand do evil things of which I neither hear nor know. Proof! When a woman lies in your arms, it is not the moment to prove her fidelity. Nahoum has crawled back to my feet with these things, and by the beard of the Prophet they are true!” He looked at the papers with loathing. “But what his purpose was when he spied upon and bribed my army I know not. Yet, it shall be said, he has held Harrik back—Harrik, my brother. Son of Sheitan and slime of the Nile, have I not spared Harrik all these years!”
“Hast thou proof, Effendina?”
“I have proof enough; I shall have more soon. To save their lives, these, these will tell. I have their names here.” He tapped the papers. “There are ways to make them tell. Now, speak, effendi, and tell me what I shall do to Harrik.”
“Wouldst thou proclaim to Egypt, to the Sultan, to the world that the army is disloyal? If these guilty men are seized, can the army be trusted? Will it not break away in fear? Yonder Nubians are not enough—a handful lost in the melee. Prove the guilt of him who perverted the army and sought to destroy thee. Punish him.”
“How shall there be proof save through those whom he has perverted? There is no writing.”
“There is proof,” answered David calmly.
“Where shall I find it?” Kaid laughed contemptuously.
“I have the proof,” answered David gravely. “Against Harrik?”
“Against Prince Harrik Pasha.”
“Thou—what dost thou know?”
“A woman of the Prince heard him give instructions for thy disposal, Effendina, when the Citadel should turns its guns upon Cairo and the Palace. She was once of thy harem. Thou didst give her in marriage, and she came to the harem of Prince Harrik at last. A woman from without who sang to her—a singing girl, an al’mah—she trusted with the paper to warn thee, Effendina, in her name. Her heart had remembrance of thee. Her foster-brother Mahommed Hassan is my servant. Him she told, and Mahommed laid the matter before me this morning. Here is a sign by which thee will remember her, so she said. Zaida she was called here.” He handed over an amulet which had one red gem in the centre.
Kaid’s face had set into fierce resolution, but as he took the amulet his eyes softened.
“Zaida. Inshallah! Zaida, she was called. She has the truth almost of the English. She could not lie ever. My heart smote me concerning her, and I gave her in marriage.” Then his face darkened again, and his teeth showed in malice. A demon was roused in him. He might long ago have banished the handsome and insinuating Harrik, but he had allowed him wealth and safety—and now...
His intention was unmistakable.
“He shall die the death,” he said. “Is it not so?” he added fiercely to David, and gazed at him fixedly. Would this man of peace plead for the traitor, the would-be fratricide?
“He is a traitor; he must die,” answered David slowly.
Kald’s eyes showed burning satisfaction. “If he were thy brother, thou wouldst kill him?”
“I would give a traitor to death for the country’s sake. There is no other way.”
“To-night he shall die.”
“But with due trial, Effendina?”
“Trial—is not the proof sufficient?”
“But if he confess, and give evidence himself, and so offer himself to die?”
“Is Harrik a fool?” answered Kaid, with scorn.
“If there be a trial and sentence is given, the truth concerning the army must appear. Is that well? Egypt will shake to its foundations—to the joy of its enemies.”
“Then he shall die secretly.”
“The Prince Pasha of Egypt will be called a murderer.”
Kaid shrugged his shoulders.
“The Sultan—Europe—is it well?”
“I will tell the truth,” Kaid rejoined angrily.
“If the Effendina will trust me, Prince Harrik shall confess his crime and pay the penalty also.”
“What is thy purpose?”
“I will go to his palace and speak with him.”
“Seize him?”
“I have no power to seize him, Effendina.”
“I will give it. My Nubians shall go also.”
“Effendina, I will go alone. It is the only way. There is great danger to the throne. Who can tell what a night will bring forth?”
“If Harrik should escape—”
“If I were an Egyptian and permitted Harrik to escape, my life would pay for my failure. If I failed, thou wouldst not succeed. If I am to serve Egypt, there must be trust in me from thee, or it were better to pause now. If I go, as I shall go, alone, I put my life in danger—is it not so?”
Suddenly Kaid sat down again among his cushions. “Inshallah! In the name of God, be it so. Thou art not as other men. There is something in thee above my thinking. But I will not sleep till I see thee again.”
“I shall see thee at midnight, Effendina. Give me the ring from thy finger.”
Kaid passed it over, and David put it in his pocket. Then he turned to go.
“Nahoum?” he asked.
“Take him hence. Let him serve thee if it be thy will. Yet I cannot understand it. The play is dark. Is he not an Oriental?”
“He is a Christian.”
Kaid laughed sourly, and clapped his hands for the slave.
In a moment David and Nahoum were gone. “Nahoum, a Christian! Bismillah!” murmured Kaid scornfully, then fell to pondering darkly over the evil things he had heard.
Meanwhile the Nubians in their glittering armour waited without in the blistering square.