Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [114]
“Surely you are mistaken.”
“No. There is a man behind us whom I have seen twice before—once outside Shepheard’s, and again loitering near the café. A slight fellow wearing a white gibbeh and a blue turban.”
“But, Mrs. Emerson, that description would fit half the men in Cairo!”
“He has been careful to keep the sleeve of his gibbeh across the lower part of his face. I am certain he is following us—and I intend to capture him. Follow me!”
Turning abruptly, I rushed at the spy, my parasol raised.
My sudden attack caught both men by surprise. Gregson let out a grunt of alarm, and the pursuer stopped short, raising his arms in an attempt to shield his head. In vain—I was too quick for him! I brought my parasol crashing down on the crown of his head. His eyes rolled up, his knees buckled, and he sank to the ground in a flurry of fluttering white cotton.
“I have him,” I cried, seating myself on the fallen man’s chest. “Here, Mr. Gregson—come at once, I have captured the spy!”
The street had cleared as if by magic. I knew there were watchers hidden in the doorways and peering out from behind the shuttered windows, but the spectators had prudently removed themselves from the scene of action. Gregson edged toward me, with none of the enthusiastic congratulations I had expected.
Then a muffled voice murmured pathetically, “Sitt Hakim—oh, sitt, you have broken my head, I think.”
I knew that voice. With a trembling hand I lifted the folds of fabric that hid my captive’s face.
It was Selim, Abdullah’s son—the beloved young Benjamin of that loyal family. And I had struck him down!
“What the devil are you doing here, Selim?” I demanded. “No, don’t tell me. Emerson sent you. You came up with us on the same train, in another carriage—you have been spying on me ever since Emerson and I parted outside the Administration Building!”
“Not spying, sitt,” the boy protested. “Guarding you, protecting you! The Father of Curses honored me with this mission, and I have failed—I am disgraced—my heart is broken—and so is my head, sitt. I am dying. Take my farewells to the Father of Curses and to my honored father, and to my brothers Ali and Hassan and—”
I stood up and reached a hand to Selim. “Get up, you foolish boy. You are not hurt; the folds of your turban muffled the blow and I don’t believe the skin is even broken. Let me have a look.”
In fact, Selim’s injury consisted of nothing more than a rising lump on his cranium. I took a box of ointment from the medicine kit in my tool collection and applied it to the lump, after which I wrapped Selim’s head with bandages before replacing his turban. It rode rather high on his head because of the bandages, but that could not be helped.
Mr. Gregson watched in absolute silence. There was a curious absence of expression on his face.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Gregson,” I said. “We can continue now. Do you mind if Selim comes along, or would you rather I sent him away?”
Gregson hesitated. Before he could reply, Selim let out a howl of woe. “No, sitt, no. Do not send me away! I will not return to the Father of Curses without you. I would rather run away. I would rather join the army. I would rather take poison and die!”
“Be still,” I said angrily. “Mr. Gregson?”
“I am afraid this delay has caused us to miss the appointment,” Gregson said. “You had better take your lachrymose guard back to his master.”
“Please, sitt, please.” Selim, who was indeed weeping copiously, took hold of my arm. “Emerson Effendi will curse me and take my soul. Come with me, or I will cut out my tongue with my knife so that I need not confess my failure; I will put out my eyes lest I see his terrible frown. I will—”
“Good Gad,” I exclaimed. “There is no help for it, Mr. Gregson. Won’t you come with me and meet my husband? He will be extremely interested in any information you can give.”
“Not today,” Gregson said quietly. “If I go at once, I may be able to reach the person I spoke of and make another appointment. Perhaps I can also persuade him to allow the Professor to accompany us next time.”
“Excellent,” I said. “How