Without pausing to think she entered, closing it behind her just as the
man relentlessly pursuing her passed in ignorance on the other side.
In the middle of the courtyard two Eastern women in the domestic act of
disembowelling a kid looked up lazily, and one smiling, pointed to the
upper storey of the house, through the small windows of which came the
sound of stringed instruments, and seeing that the stranger did not
understand, explained her gesture in broken French:
"_Au premiez étase--voz amieze--les anglaiseez."
No idea of any further possible danger entering her head, and at a
complete loss to understand, but thankful for her present safety, Jill
crossed the court, slipping unromantically on a piece of the animal's
entrails which lay about, and entering a low door mounted the stairs.
Through a curtained archway the distinct twang of an American voice
came to her as a message of peace, so pushing back the stuff she
entered to find herself confronted by ten pairs of eyes of different
nationality.
"Come right in," twanged the same voice, "guess you're from the same
boat! Cute of you to find your way here all by your lonesome!"
The well-corseted wife of a Can-King, flanked on one side by her thin,
leather-skinned, neat daughter, and on the other by the inevitable
Italian marquis, whose tailor had evidently been a sartorial futurist,
pointed to a cushion on the nobleman's off side, on which perplexed
Jill squatted in imitation of the others. The party consisted of the
aforementioned trio, two flash-looking English women, who had in tow a
certain type of man who is only to be found on board ship, an obese
German, a French widow whose weeds grew more from utility than
necessity, and a dapper little Frenchman who twinkled his
over-manicured fingers for the benefit of a healthy, jolly looking
Australian girl sitting uncomfortably on the adjacent cushion. The
party's dragoman proffered a cup of coffee and a cigarette. The former
was excellent, the latter, after one puff, Jill extinguished on the
floor, for she knew tobacco when she smoked it, and guessed at hasheesh
without having to look at the slightly brightened eyes of those who sat
smoking the same brand around her.
Then she glanced curiously round the room. Long, low, with four tawdry
glass and gilt chandeliers hanging from the not over-clean ceiling,
cushions spreading all over the floor excepting in the middle where lay
an exquisite Persian carpet, long mirrors on all sides, little inlaid
tables, and at the far end, built into the wall with steps leading up
to it, a bed behind gilt bars, the door in which was fastened by a gilt
padlock.
It seemed that their dragoman had brought them to the house so as to
add yet more perquisites to his daily remuneration by regaling them
with an exhibition of Eastern dancing.
"What kind of dancing?" asked Jill with a slight frown, as the
twinkling music suddenly stopped.
"Guess we can't tell you!" replied the American mother, whose corsets
were not in exact accord with the cushions upon which she sat,
breathing heavily from her upper whaleboned register.
"_Nous espérons le mieux_," said the Frenchman, winking at the dragoman.
And that moment they were enlightened.
The two English women emitted each a little screech, the American
mother caught convulsively at her daughter, who coldly raised her
long-handled lorgnettes the more fully to survey the picture before
her. The Australian girl sat quiet, as did the Englishman who had been
there before; the Italian ejaculated "_Per dio_," and the Frenchman
"_Mon Dieu_," as the widow, pulling one side of her veil across her
face, hid her over-crimson mouth, but in no way impeded her view,
whilst Jill looked round hastily for a way of escape, but suddenly
remembering the certain peril in the street decided, as she edged as
far as possible from the marchese, to sit out the difficulties of the
moment.