Hilda exclaimed, involuntarily: "A dagger!" Even in Egypt men are not
frequently suffering from dagger wounds, and the word has a shudder in
its sound.
Mr Muirhead said, smilingly: "There is generally romance surrounding a
dagger wound, sir. If it would not bore or distress you, perhaps, some
time later, you might feel inclined to tell us as much as you care."
Raife thought to himself: "Oh, hang these people. Why don't they go
away? She's a charming girl, though."
As he thought, Mr Muirhead, with a promptitude characteristic of
Americans, produced his card, and, proffering it, said: "Here is my
card, sir. I am a very humble American citizen. My daughter and I
occupy the suite on the first floor, facing north. I shall take it as a
compliment, if you should have a dull few minutes to spare, that you
should honour us with a visit. We shall be here, or hereabouts, for a
week or two."
Even in Cairo the warmth of the old gentleman's invitation appeared
rather sudden to Raife. However, he had not been in the United States,
and had met few Americans. He certainly had not met one who combined so
much courtliness of manner and dignity as Mr Reginald Pomeroy Muirhead,
of the Fifth State Bank of Illinois, and father of a charming daughter
with a musical voice.
Raife forgot he was a woman-hater. He replied, "I'm sorry I haven't got
a card with me, and, if I had, I couldn't get at it with this confounded
shoulder. My name is Remington, sir, and I'm an Englishman. I will try
to avail myself of your very kind invitation."
As they departed, Raife, for the first time, saw those lips that helped
Hilda Muirhead "to talk and laugh, and to sing." He also encountered
her eyes that were for the purpose "of normal sight and restrained
emotion." On this occasion it was a sympathetic emotion.
When they had gone out into the hot sun for one of those expeditions on
donkeys, that are such an attraction to visitors to Egypt, Raife
contemplated. In the end he had determined that he would not accept Mr
Muirhead's invitation to visit them in his suite. He hated the sound of
the word "suite," anyhow.
It is dull work for a strong young man to recline in a wicker chair, to
smoke and to read all day in a hotel, whether it be in Cairo or
elsewhere. To refuse the advances of a hundred eyes of every hue, and
to maintain a stoical indifference to every one around, because one has
suffered at the hands of two women was a brave endeavour. Raife
confined himself to his own rooms and dined in solitary state for three
days. At the end of that time his desire for companionship of some kind
was uncontrollable.
Raife sat in the foyer once more, and Mr Muirhead came across to him
with an air of urbanity. "Ah, Mr Remington! We have not seen you
during the last few days. I hope your wound has not been troubling
you."
Raife stood up and looking straight at the genial, old gentleman, said:
"No, Mr Muirhead, not much; but the doctors have told me that if I
don't keep quiet, I shall have complications, and I am already tired of
`keeping quiet,' as they call it."
"Well, Mr Remington, if you are tired of keeping quiet by yourself and
you will dine with me to-night, in my room, I promise you quietude, and,
at the same time, it may prove a relaxation to you."
Raife could not refuse the invitation offered so gracefully, and he
accepted.
When Raife was announced that evening, in Mr Muirhead's suite of rooms,
the first impression he received was that a very ordinary hotel room had
been transformed into a bower of flowers and blossom, and that there
were many evidences of home life around it in the shape of
daintily-framed photographs and tiny ornaments representative of many
countries. The arrangement of flowers on the dinner-table which awaited
them, showed that an appreciative hand had tended them. Mr Muirhead
received his guest, and after the ordinary interchange of greetings,
sounded a gong which brought a dusky attendant.
"Mr Remington, may I have the privilege of mixing for you an American
cocktail?" said his host. "There are many spurious editions of the
cocktail throughout Europe, and, indeed, the world; but it is
essentially an American drink, and, if you will allow me to play the
part of `bar-tender,' I think I may please you."
Mr Muirhead's cocktail, which he mixed from the ingredients handed to
him by the attendant, was a superlative success.