Tales of Secret Egypt Part 30

After that I knew where I could find them up to any time before lunch; I knew they were safe enough for the rest of the morning; and accepting my defeat at the hands of the jewel merchant who turned his slow eyes upon me and shrugged apologetically, I drifted off, after a decent interval (leaving young Forrest, who, mysteriously, had turned up, to do the cavalierly), intending to visit my acquaintance, Ha.s.san, in the _Sk el-Attarin_ (Street of the Perfumers), not twenty yards away.

You know Ha.s.san? A large, mysterious figure in the shadows of his little shop, smoking amber-scented cigarettes as though he liked them, and turning his sleepy eyes slowly upon each pa.s.ser-by. Well, I drifted around in his direction.

Right at the corner of the street, a big limousine was standing; an up-to-date car, fawn cushions, silver-plated fittings, and simply stuffed with fresh-cut flowers. A useful-looking Nubian was chauffeur, and on the step squatted a fat and resplendent being in all the glory of much gold braid.

These _harem_ guards are rarely seen in Cairo nowadays--they belong to the other picturesque Oriental inst.i.tutions which have begun to fade with the crescent of Islam. There was something startlingly incongruous about this full-grown specimen, that bloated representative of Eastern despotism squatting on the step of an up-to-date French car.

It was a kind of all-round shock; I cannot describe how it struck me.

It was something like running into Martin Luther at the Grand National or Nero, say, at an aviation meeting.

This was a frightfully hot morning, and the adipose object on the car step was slumbering blissfully. A moment later I spotted the charge which he was guarding with such sedulous care. She was seated in Ha.s.san's shop--well back in the shadows--a gauzy white vision, all eyes and _yashmak_. A confidential female servant accompanied her.

They made a pleasing picture enough, and a more suitable setting could not well be found. It was an ill.u.s.trated page of the _Arabian Nights_, and it appealed strongly even to my jaded perceptions.

Of course, I was not going to interrupt the _tete-a-tete_; but from where I stood I could observe the group very well whilst remaining myself un.o.bserved. It presently became evident that the lady of the _yashmak_, under the pretence of purchasing perfumes, was merely killing time, and my interest increased as the hour of noon grew near and the artistic group remained unbroken. You know the Mosque of El-Ashraf by Ha.s.san's shop? Its minaret almost overhung the place.

Well, in due course, out popped the _mueddin_.

"_La il aha illa Allah...._"

There he was a very sweet-voiced singer, as I noted at the time, telling them there was no G.o.d but G.o.d, and all the rest of it; and presently he worked round to the side of the gallery overlooking Ha.s.san's shop.

Then I could see which way the wind blew. He seemed to be deliberately singing _at_ the picturesque trio--and the dark eyes of the lady of the _yashmak_ were lifted upward--in reverence, perhaps; but I hardly thought so.

There was no doubt about the _mueddin's_ final glance, as he turned and retired from the gallery. I remained where I was until the _yashmak_ left the shop; and as she had to pa.s.s quite close to me in order to rejoin the waiting car, I had a good look at her.

It was just an impression, of course, an impression of red lips under the white gauze, an oval Oriental outline, with very fine eyes--notably fine, where fine eyes are common--and a little exquisitely chiseled nose; a bewitching face. Just that one glimpse I had and a vague impression of rustling silk with the tap of high heels. A faint breath of musk still proclaimed itself above the less pleasing odors of the street; then, the female attendant having cuffed the slumbering Silenus into wakefulness, the car moved off and this _harem_ lily vanished from the bazaar.

I knew that my party was safe for another half an hour, at any rate, so I nipped along to Ha.s.san's shop. Of course, he began brazenly by declaring that no ladies had been there that morning. I had expected it, and the att.i.tude confirmed my suspicions.

Presently, when his boy had made fresh coffee, and Ha.s.san, from the black cabinet, had produced some real cigarettes, we got more intimate. There was a scarcity of European visitors that morning; and excepting one interruption by a party of four American ladies, I had Ha.s.san to myself for half an hour.

He raised his fat finger to his lips when I pressed my question, and rolled his eyes fearfully.

"She is from the palace of Harn Pasha," he whispered with more sidelong glances. "Ah! _effendim_, I fear...."

We smoked awhile; then--

"The Pasha's wife?" I inquired.

"It is the Lady Zohara," he said.

This did not add greatly to my information; but I continued: "And the _mueddin_?"

"Ah!--do not whisper it.... That is my brother, Sad!"

"He raises his eyes very high?"

"Not so, _effendim_; it is she who raises her eyes. I fear--I fear for Sad. The Pasha ... you have heard of him?"

"I may have heard his name," I replied; "but I am quite unfamiliar with his reputation."

Ha.s.san shook his head gloomily.

"He is the last of his race," he explained; "the race of the Khalifs.

He inhabits the ancient palace--but much has been rebuilt, and much added--in Old Cairo, close behind the Coptic Church...."

"I did not know that such a palace even existed."

Again Ha.s.san raised his finger to his lips.

"He is not like the other pashas," he said; "in the house of Harn Pasha are observed to-day all the old customs as in the day of his great ancestor Harn al-Raschid."

"But a motor-car!"

"Ah, _effendim_, he does not scorn to employ modern comforts, nor do I mean that he is a strict Moslem. But you saw the one who sat upon the step? The _harem_ of the Pasha is well guarded; not only by such as he, but by the Nubians and by the other mutes."

"Mutes!"

"He has many slaves. His agent in Mecca procures for him the pick of the market."

"But there is no such thing as slavery in Egypt!"

"Do the slaves know that, _effendim_?" he asked simply. "Those who have tongues are never seen outside the walls--unless they are guarded by those who have no tongue!"

It was a curious sidelight upon a more curious possibility and I was much impressed.

"Your brother----"

"Alas! I have warned him! I fear, most sincerely I fear, that one dark night the same will befall him that befell the son of my cousin, Ali."

"And what was that?"

"He climbed the wall of the Pasha's garden. There is a fig tree growing close beside it at one place. Someone a.s.sisted him to descend on the other. But he had been betrayed; the Nubian mutes took him--and they----"

He bent and whispered in my ear.

"Impossible!" I cried--"impossible! _ba.s.s! ba.s.s!_"

"Not so, _effendim_--nor was that all. After that they----"

"Enough, Ha.s.san, enough!" I cried. "_Usbr!_"

Ha.s.san sighed, raising fearful eyes to the minaret.

III

There has been nothing you are likely to disbelieve so far; but now--well, I specified at the beginning--no comments. Let me tell the story in my own way, and you have permission to _think_ what you please.

There was a dance at Shepheard's that night, and young Forrest rather interfered with my plans again as to one of the members of the English party; I think I have referred to her before? That sent me home in a bad humor--at least not home; for as I was standing over by the Ezbekiyeh Gardens, wondering whether to go along to "Jimmy's" or not, I formed a sudden determination to go and have a look at the abode of Harn Pasha instead!