Seven Dials - Anne Perry [67]
“Assume I know nothing,” Pitt said with humility. “The little I have learned can be disregarded.”
Trenchard nodded, a flash of approval in his face. “The recorded history of the country goes back not far short of five thousand years before Christ.” His words were momentous, and for all his casual tone, there was awe in his expression. “But for your purposes you can disregard all of it, even the Napoleonic conquest and brief French occupation nearly a century ago. No doubt you are aware of Lord Nelson’s victory at Aboukir, usually known, I believe, as the Battle of the Nile? Yes, I assumed so.” There was an indefinable edge to his voice, an emotion impossible to name. “Egypt is nominally part of the Ottoman Empire, and therefore owes allegiance to the Sultan of Turkey,” he continued. “But in fact for the last fifteen years it has been part of ours, although it would be extremely unwise to make any remark to that effect.” He shrugged elegantly. “Or to the fact that we bombarded Alexandria ten years ago, on Mr. Gladstone’s orders.”
Pitt flinched, but Trenchard took no more than slight notice, just a flicker in his eyes.
“The khedive is the sultan’s vassal,” he continued. “There is an Egyptian prime minister, a parliament, an Egyptian army and an Egyptian flag. The finances are probably of no interest to you except regarding cotton, which is the single exported crop here, and bought entirely by Britain, a fact of no little importance.”
“Yes,” Pitt said grimly. “I was aware of that. And I think finances might be at the heart of the issue. But,” he added hastily, “I do not require a lecture on them at present. What about police?”
Trenchard moved a little in his seat.
“I would forget the entire subject of law and courts, if I were you,” Trenchard said dryly. “Egyptian jurisdiction over foreigners belongs to a whole series of courts, one for each consulate, and the circumlocutory machinations of any of them, let alone all, would confound even Theseus, trailing a thread behind him.” He spread his elegant hands wide. “In effect the British run Egypt, but we do it discreetly. There are hundreds of us, and we all answer to the consul-general, Lord Cromer, who is usually referred to simply as ’the lord.’ And I presume you know what they say about him?”
“I have no idea,” Pitt confessed.
Trenchard raised his eyebrows very slightly, a smile on his lips. “ ’It is no good having right on your side if Lord Cromer is against you,’ “ he quoted. “Better, I think, in this situation, if he never hears of you.”
“I shall certainly work to that end,” Pitt promised. “But I need to know about this woman, who she was before she came to England, and if she is really as impulsive and . . .”
“Stupid,” Trenchard filled in for him, his eyes wide. “Yes, I can see the necessity. We’ll start among the Copts. I’ll give you a map and mark the most likely areas. I would assume that she comes from a family with a certain amount of money, since she obviously speaks English and has the means to travel.”
“Thank you.” Pitt stood up, finding himself stiff and making an effort to stifle a yawn. It was still extraordinarily warm, his clothes were sticking to his skin, and he was far more tired than he had expected. “Where do I catch the tram for San Stefano?”
“You have piasters?”
“Yes . . . thank you.”
Trenchard rose to his feet also. “Then if you turn right and walk about a hundred yards you will find the stop on your left, immediately across the street. But I would suggest at this time of evening, while you are unfamiliar with the city, that you take a horse carriage. It should not be more than eight or nine piasters, and worth it when you have a case to carry. Good luck, Pitt.” He held out his hand. “If I can be of assistance, please call me. If I know anything that might help I shall send a note to you at San Stefano.”
Pitt shook his hand, thanked him again, and accepted his advice to take a carriage.
The journey was not long but the heat had not abated in the crowded streets, and once again Pitt