Mr. William Sowerby, lieutenant in the Mounted Infantry, was in a
difficult situation, out of which he was little likely to come with
credit--or his life. It is a dangerous thing to play with fire, so it
is said; it is a more dangerous thing to walk rough-shod over Oriental
customs. A man ere this has lost his life by carrying his shoe-leather
across the threshold of a mosque, and this sort of thing William Sowerby
knew, and of his knowledge he heeded. He did not heed another thing,
however; which is, that Oriental ladies are at home to but one man in
all the world, and that your acquaintance with them must be modified by
a mushrabieh screen, a yashmak, a shaded, fast-driving brougham, and a
hideous eunuch.
William Sowerby had not been long in Egypt, he had not travelled
very far or very wide in the Orient; and he was an impressionable and
harmless young man whose bark and bite were of equal value. His ideas of
a harem were inaccurately based on the legend that it is necessarily
the habitation of many wives and concubines and slaves. It had never
occurred to him that there might be a sort of family life in a harem;
that a pasha or a bey might have daughters as well as wives; or might
have only one wife--which is less expensive; and that a harem is not
necessarily the heaven of a voluptuary, an elysium of rosy-petalled love
and passion. Yet he might have known it all, and should have known it
all, if he had taken one-fifth of the time to observe and study Egyptian
life which he gave to polo and golf and racquets. Yet even if he had
known the life from many stand-points he would still have cherished
illusions, for, as Dicky Donovan, who had a sense of satire, said in
some satirical lines, the cherished amusements of more than one dinner
table:
“Oh, William William Sowerby
Has come out for to see
The way of a bimbashi
With Egyptian Cavalree.
But William William Sowerby
His eyes do open wide
When he sees the Pasha’s chosen
In her “bruggam” and her pride.
And William William Sowerby,
He has a tender smile,
Which will bring him in due season
To the waters of the Nile
And the cheery crocodile!”
It can scarcely be said that Dicky was greatly surprised when Mahommed
Yeleb, the servant of “William William Sowerby,” came rapping at his
door one hot noon-day with a dark tale of disaster to his master. This
was the heart of the thing--A languid, bored, inviting face, and two
dark curious eyes in a slow-driving brougham out on the Pyramid Road;
William’s tender, answering smile; his horse galloping behind to within
a discreet distance of the palace, where the lady alighted, shadowed by
the black-coated eunuch. The same thing for several days, then a device
to let the lady know his name, then a little note half in Arabic, half
in French, so mysterious, so fascinating--William Sowerby walked on air!
Then, a nocturnal going forth, followed by his frightened servant, who
dared not give a warning, for fear of the ever-ready belt which had
scarred his back erstwhile; the palace wall, an opening door, the
figure of his master passing through, the closing gate; and then no
more--nothing more, for a long thirty-six hours!
Mahommed Yeleb’s face would have been white if his skin had
permitted--it was a sickly yellow; his throat was guttural with anxiety,
his eyes furtive and strained, for was he not the servant of his master,
and might not he be marked for the early tomb if, as he was sure, his
master was gone that way?
“Aiwa, efendi, it is sure,” he said to Dicky Donovan, who never was
surprised at anything that happened. He had no fear of anything that
breathed; and he kept his place with Ismail because he told the truth
pitilessly, was a poorer man than the Khedive’s barber, and a beggar
beside the Chief Eunuch; also, because he had a real understanding of
the Oriental mind, together with a rich sense of humour.
“What is sure?” said Dicky to the Arab with assumed composure; for it
was important that he should show neither anxiety nor astonishment,
lest panic seize the man, and he should rush abroad with grave scandal
streaming from his mouth, and the English fat be in the Egyptian fire
for ever. “What is sure, Mahommed Yeleb?” repeated Dicky, lighting a
cigarette idly.
“It is as God wills; but as the tongue of man speaks, so is he--Bimbashi
Sowerby, my master--swallowed up these thirty-six hours in the tomb
prepared for him by Selamlik Pasha.”
Dicky felt his eyelids twitch, and he almost gave a choking groan of
anxiety, for Selamlik Pasha would not spare the invader of his harem;
an English invader would be a delicate morsel for his pitiless soul.
He shuddered inwardly at the thought of what might have occurred, what
might occur still.
If Sowerby had been trapped and was already dead, the knowledge would
creep through the bazaars like a soft wind of the night, and all the
Arab world would rejoice that a cursed Inglesi, making the unpardonable
breach of their code, had been given to the crocodiles, been smothered,
or stabbed, or tortured to death with fire. And, if it were so, what
could be done? Could England make a case of it, avenge the life of
this young fool who had disgraced her in the eyes of the world, of the
envious French in Cairo, and of that population of the palaces who
hated her because Englishmen were the enemies of backsheesh, corruption,
tyranny, and slavery? And to what good the attempt? Exists the personal
law of the Oriental palace, and who may punish any there save by that
personal law? What outside law shall apply to anything that happens
within those mysterious walls? Who shall bear true witness, when the
only judge is he whose palace it is? Though twenty nations should unite
to judge, where might proof be found--inside the palace, where all men
lie and bear false witness?
If Sowerby was not dead, then resort to force? Go to Selamlik Pasha the
malignant, and demand the young officer? How easy for Selamlik Pasha
to deny all knowledge of his existence! Threaten Selamlik--and raise a
Mahommedan crusade? That would not do.
Say nought, then, and let Sowerby, who had thrust his head into the jaws
of the tiger, get it out as best he might, or not get it out, as the
case might be?
Neither was that possible to Dicky Donovan, even if it were the more
politic thing to do, even if it were better for England’s name. Sowerby
was his friend, as men of the same race are friends together in a
foreign country. Dicky had a poor opinion of Sowerby’s sense or ability,
and yet he knew that if he were in Sowerby’s present situation--living
or dead--Sowerby would spill his blood a hundred useless times, if need
be, to save him.
He had no idea of leaving Sowerby where he was, if alive; or of not
avenging him one way or another if dead. But how that might be he was
not on the instant sure. He had been struck as with a sudden blindness
by the news, though he showed nothing of this to Mahommed Yeleb. His
chief object was to inspire the Arab with confidence, since he was
probably the only man outside Selamlik’s palace who knew the thing
as yet. It was likely that Selamlik Pasha would be secret till he saw
whether Sowerby would be missed and what inquiry was made for him. It
was important to Dicky, in the first place, that this Mahommed Yeleb be
kept quiet, by being made a confidant of his purposes so far as need be,
an accomplice in his efforts whatever they should be. Kept busy, with
a promise of success and backsheesh when the matter was completed, the
Arab would probably remain secret. Besides, as Dicky said to himself,
while Mahommed kept his head, he would not risk parading himself as the
servant of the infidel who had invaded the Pasha’s harem. Again, it was
certain that he had an adequate devotion to his master, who had given
him as many ha’pence as kicks, and many cast-off underclothes and
cigarettes.
Thus it was that before Dicky had arranged what he should do, though
plans were fusing in his brain, he said to Mahommed Yeleb seriously,
as befitting the crime Sowerby had committed--evenly, as befitted the
influence he wished to have over the Arab: “Keep your tongue between
your teeth, Mahommed. We will pull him through all right.”
“But, effendi, whom God honour, for greatness is in all thy ways, friend
of the Commander of the Faithful as thou art--but, saadat el basha, if
he be dead?”
“He is not dead. I know it by the eyes of my mind, Mahommed--yea, by the
hairs of my head, he is not dead!”
“Saadat el basha, thou art known as the truth-teller and the
incorruptible--this is the word of the Egyptian and of the infidel
concerning thee. I kiss thy feet. For it is true he hath deserved death,
but woe be to him by whom his death cometh! And am I not his servant to
be with him while he hath life, and hath need of me? If thou sayest he
is alive, then is he alive, and my heart rejoices.”
Dicky scarcely heard what the Arab said, for the quick conviction he had
had that Sowerby was alive was based on the fact, suddenly remembered,
that Selamlik Pasha had only returned from the Fayoum this very morning,
and that therefore he could not as yet have had any share in the fate of
Sowerby, but had probably been sent for by the Chief Eunuch. It was but
an hour since that he had seen Selamlik Pasha driving hastily towards
his palace.
His mind was instantly made up, his plans formed to his purpose.
“Listen, Mahommed,” he said to the Arab. “Listen to each word I say,
as though it were the prayer to take thee into Paradise. Go at once to
Selamlik Pasha. Carry this ring the Khedive gave to me--he will know it.
Do not be denied his presence. Say that it is more than life and death;
that it is all he values in the world. Once admitted, say these words:
‘Donovan Pasha knows all, and asks an audience at midnight in this
palace. Until that hour Donovan Pasha desires peace. For is it not the
law, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth? Is not a market a place
to buy and sell?’”
Four times did Dicky make the Arab repeat the words after him, till they
ran like water from his tongue, and dismissed him upon the secret errand
with a handful of silver.
Immediately the Arab had gone, Dicky’s face flushed with excitement,
in the reaction from his lately assumed composure. For five minutes he
walked up and down, using language scarcely printable, reviling Sowerby,
and setting his teeth in anger. But he suddenly composed himself,
and, sitting down, stared straight before him for a long time without
stirring a muscle. There was urgent need of action, but there was
more urgent need of his making no mistake, of his doing the one thing
necessary, for Sowerby could only be saved in one way, not many.
It was useless to ask the Khedive’s intervention--Ismail dared not
go against Selamlik in this. Whatever was done must be done between
Selamlik Pasha, the tigerish libertine, and Richard Donovan, the little
man who, at the tail end of Ismail’s reign, was helping him hold things
together against the black day of reckoning, “prepared for the devil
and all his angels,” as Dicky had said to Ismail on this very momentous
morning, when warning him of the perils in his path. Now Dicky had been
at war with Selamlik ever since, one day long ago on the Nile, he and
Fielding had thwarted his purposes; and Dicky had earned the Pasha’s
changeless hatred by calling him “Trousers”--for this name had gone
up and down throughout Egypt as a doubtful story travels, drawing easy
credit everywhere. Those were the days when Dicky was irresponsible. Of
all in Egypt who hated him most, Selamlik Pasha was the chief. But most
people hated Selamlik, so the world was not confounded by the great
man’s rage, nor did they dislike Dicky simply because the Pasha chose
to do so. Through years Selamlik had built up his power, until even the
Khedive feared him, and would have been glad to tie a stone round his
neck and drop him into the Nile. But Ismail could no longer do this sort
of thing without some show of reason--Europe was hanging on his actions,
waiting for the apt moment to depose him.
All this Dicky knew, and five minutes from the time Mahommed Yeleb had
left him he was on his way to Ismail’s palace, with his kavass behind
him, cool and ruminating as usual, now answering a salute in Turkish
fashion, now in English, as Egyptians or Europeans passed him.