Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [113]
“Very well,” I said, glancing at my watch. “I believe, Mr. Aziz, that you have told me all you know. Sethos would never enlist a man like you; you are too great a coward, and you talk too much.”
He let me out and locked the door after me. Looking back, I saw his face, shining with perspiration, peering fearfully at me through a crack in the curtain.
I hoped Emerson had done better, but feared he had been no more successful than I. By a combination of cleverness and terror, Sethos seemed to have done an excellent job of covering his tracks. If I had not had the meeting with Mr. Gregson to look forward to, I would have been somewhat discouraged.
It was thirty-five minutes past one when I arrived at the Café Orientale. Mr. Gregson was nowhere to be seen, so I seated myself at a table near the door, ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons. They were all men. I believe there is some nonsensical convention against ladies patronizing cafés. Either Mr. Gregson was unaware of this unspoken rule, or he paid me the compliment of realizing that I was supremely indifferent to such things.
I summoned the waiter with a rap of my parasol and a crisp command in Arabic, and ordered coffee. Mr. Gregson arrived before the coffee. I had forgotten what a fine-looking man he was. The smile that illumined his face softened his austere features.
“You came!” he exclaimed.
“You asked me to, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I scarcely dared hope . . . No, that is not true. I know the ardent spirit that moves you. I knew you would rush in where lesser women fear to tread.”
“I did not rush, Mr. Gregson, I walked—into a respectable café filled with people. The only danger I faced was that of social ostracism, and that has never been a matter of concern to me.”
“Ah,” said Gregson, “but I am going to ask you to accompany me into an area that is not so free of peril. I tell you frankly, Mrs. Emerson—”
He broke off as the waiter came with my order. Curtly he ordered, “Kahweh mingheir sukkar.”
“You speak Arabic?” I asked.
“Only enough to order food and complain that the price is too high.”
The waiter returned. Mr. Gregson raised his cup. “To the spirit of adventure,” he said gravely.
“Cheers,” I replied, raising my own cup. “And now, Mr. Gregson, you were telling me frankly . . .”
“That the mission I am about to propose is one in which you may reasonably refuse to join me. But I think I have—persuaded, shall we say?—one of Sethos’ henchmen to talk to us. How much the fellow knows I cannot tell, but he is reputed to be as close to that genius of crime as anyone, and I believe it is an opportunity not to be missed. I would not bring you into this, except that the man insisted you be present. He seems to have confidence in your ability to protect him—”
“Say no more,” I exclaimed, rising to my feet. “Let us go at once!”
“You do not hesitate,” Gregson said, looking at me curiously. “I confess that in your position I would be highly suspicious of such a request.”
“Well, as to that, it is quite understandable that the fellow should select me as a confidante. You are a stranger; whereas, if I may say so, my reputation for square dealing is well known. The man may even be someone I know personally! Come, Mr. Gregson, we mustn’t delay an instant.”
As we penetrated deeper into the heart of the old city, the narrow winding streets took on the character of a maze, composed of dirty crumbling walls and shuttered windows. The latticed balconies jutting out from the upper stories of the tall old houses cut off the sunlight, so that we walked through a dusty shade. There were few Europeans or English among the pedestrians, some of whom stumbled in a drugged daze, their eyes fixed on vacancy.
Since the streets (if they could be called that) turned and twisted, I was able to keep a watchful eye to the rear. Mr. Gregson noted my glances. “You are uneasy,” he said seriously. “I should not have brought you. If you would rather return—”
“Keep walking,” I hissed.
“What is it?”
“We are being followed.”
“What?”
“Keep walking, I say. Don’t turn your head.”