Donovan Pasha, and Some People of Egypt Part 24

Kingsley laughed, in spite of his discomfiture, and shook it.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am My Lady's slave," she said proudly.

"No, no--her servant. You can come and go as you like. You have wages."

"I am Mata, the slave--My Lady's slave. All the world knows I am her slave. Was I not given her by the Khedive whose slave I was? May the leaves of life be green always, but I am Mata the slave," she said stubbornly, shaking her head.

"Do you tell My Lady so?"

"Wherefore should I tell My Lady what she knows? Is not the truth the truth? Good-night! I had a brother who went to prison. His grave is by Stamboul. Good-night, effendi. He was too young to die, but he had gold, and the captain of the citadel needed money. So, he had to die. Malaish!

He is in the bosom of G.o.d, and prison does not last forever. Goodnight, effendi. If you, effendi, are poor, it is well; no man will desire your life. Then you can be a slave, and have quiet nights. If you are rich, effendi, remember my brother. Good-night, effendi. May sacrifices be yours... and My Lady says good-night." Kingsley gave her a gold-piece and went down to Foulik Pasha.

As they steamed away Kingsley looked in vain to the house on the sh.o.r.e.

There was no face at window or door, no sign of life about the place.

"Well, my bold bey," said Donovan Pasha to him at last, "what do you think of Egypt now?"

"I'm not thinking of Egypt now."

"Did the lady deeply sympathise? Did your prescription work?"

"You know it didn't. Nothing worked. This fool Foulik came at the wrong moment."

"It wouldn't have made any difference. You see you were playing with marked cards, and that is embarra.s.sing. You got a certificate of character by--"

"Yes, I know. That's what she said. Never mind. I've played as I meant to play, and I'll abide the result. I said I'd marry her, and I mean to, though she gently showed me the door--beautiful, proud person!"

"She is much too good for you."

"What does that matter, if she doesn't think so?"

"My opinion is she'll never touch you or your slave-gold with a mile-measure."

d.i.c.ky did not think this, but it was his way of easing his own mind.

Inwardly he was studying the situation, and wondering how he could put Kingsley's business straight.

"She thinks I'm still a 'slave-driver,' as she calls it--women are so innocent. You did your part, as well as could be expected, I'm bound to say. I only wish I wasn't so much trouble to you. I owe you a lot, d.i.c.ky Pasha--everything! You got me the golden shillings to start with; you had faith in me; you opened the way to fortune, to the thing that's more than fortune--to success."

"I'm not altogether proud of you. You've messed things to-day."

"I'll set them right to-morrow--with your help. Ismail is going a bit large this time."

"He is an Oriental. A life or two--think of Sadik Pasha. Your men--"

"Well? You think he'd do it--think he'd dare to do it?"

"Suppose they disappeared? Who could prove that Ismail did it? And if it could be proved--they're his own subjects, and the Nile is near! Who can say him nay?"

"I fancy you could--and I would."

"I can do something. I've done a little in my day; but my day, like Ismail's, is declining. They are his subjects, and he needs money, and he puts a price on their heads--that's about the size of it. Question How much will you have to pay? How much have you in Cairo at the bank?"

"Only about ten thousand pounds."

"He'd take your draft on England, but he'll have that ten thousand pounds, if he can get it."

"That doesn't matter, but as for my arrest--"

"A trick, on some trumped-up charge. If he can hold you long enough to get some of your cash, that's all he wants. He knows he's got no jurisdiction over you--not a day's hold. He knows you'd give a good deal to save your men."

"Poor devils! But to be beaten by this Egyptian bulldozer--not if I know it, d.i.c.ky"

"Still, it may be expensive."

"Ah!" Kingsley Bey sighed, and his face was clouded, but d.i.c.ky knew he was not thinking of Ismail or the blackmail. His eyes were on the house by the sh.o.r.e, now disappearing, as they rounded a point of land.

"Ah" said Donovan Pasha, but he did not sigh.

III

"Ah!" said a lady, in a dirty pink house at a.s.siout, with an accent which betrayed a discovery and a resolution, "I will do it. I may be of use some way or another. The Khedive won't dare--but still the times are desperate. As Donovan Pasha said, it isn't easy holding down the safety-valve all the time, and when it flies off, there will be dark days for all of us.... An old friend--bad as he is! Yes, I will go."

Within forty-eight hours of Donovan Pasha's and Kingsley Bey's arrival in Cairo the lady appeared there, and made inquiries of her friends. No one knew anything. She went to the Consulate, and was told that Kingsley Bey was still in prison, that the Consulate had not yet taken action.

She went to Donovan Pasha, and he appeared far more mysterious and troubled than he really was. Kingsley Bey was as cheerful as might be expected, he said, but the matter was grave. He was charged with the destruction of the desert-city, and maintaining an army of slaves in the Khedive's dominions--a menace to the country.

"But it was with the Khedive's connivance," she said. "Who can prove that? It's a difficult matter for England to handle, as you can see."

This was very wily of d.i.c.ky Donovan, for he was endeavouring to create alarm and sympathy in the woman's mind by exaggerating the charge.

He knew that in a few days at most Kingsley Bey would be free. He had himself given Ismail a fright, and had even gone so far as to suggest inside knowledge of the plans of Europe concerning Egypt. But if he could deepen the roots of this comedy for Kingsley's benefit--and for the lady's--it was his duty so to do.

"Of course," he made haste to add, "you cannot be expected to feel sympathy for him. In your eyes, he is a criminal. He had a long innings, and made a mint of money. We must do all we can, and, of course, we'll save his life--ah, I'm sure you wouldn't exact the fullest penalty on him!"

d.i.c.ky was more than wily; he was something wicked. The suggestion of danger to Kingsley's life had made her wince, and he had added another little barbed arrow to keep the first company. The cause was a good one.

Hurt now to heal afterwards--and Kingsley was an old friend, and a good fellow. Anyhow, this work was wasting her life, and she would be much better back in England, living a civilised life, riding in the Row, and slumming a little, in the East End, perhaps, and presiding at meetings for the amelioration of the unameliorated. He was rather old-fashioned in his views. He saw the faint trouble in her eyes and face, and he made up his mind that he would work while it was yet the day. He was about to speak, but she suddenly interposed a question.

"Is he comfortable? How does he take it?"

"Why, all right. You know the kind of thing: mud walls and floor--quite dry, of course--and a sleeping-mat, and a bala.s.s of water, and cakes of dourha, and plenty of time to think. After all, he's used to primitive fare."

Donovan Pasha was drawing an imaginary picture, and drawing it with effect. He almost believed it as his artist's mind fashioned it. She believed it, and it tried her. Kingsley Bey was a criminal, of course, but he was an old friend; he had offended her deeply also, but that was no reason why he should be punished by any one save herself. Her regimen of punishments would not necessarily include mud walls and floor, and a sleeping-mat and a bala.s.s of water; and whatever it included it should not be administered by any hand save her own. She therefore resented, not quite unselfishly, this indignity and punishment the Khedive had commanded.

"When is he to be tried?"

"Well, that is hardly the way to put it. When he can squeeze the Khedive into a corner he'll be free, but it takes time. We have to go carefully, for it isn't the slave-master alone, it's those twenty slaves of his, including the six you freed. Their heads are worth a good deal to the Khedive, he thinks."