|
|
|
1.
Lord Bannister looked up. Now he understood all. But Holler was no longer beside him; he was suffering from air sickness and had no wish to be seen in this condition by a lady. There were very few other passengers on board. An old couple were sitting in front; Holler's place was immediately behind them; then came several rows of unoccupied seats separating him from Lord Bannister and Evelyn. Thus nobody could possibly hear what they were saying.
"Can you forgive me?" Evelyn whispered.
"I cannot," said Lord Bannister.
"The facts given in the newspaper are correct but the interpretation is quite wrong. I am not a spy."
"Please don't bother to explain. You are very clever. And I have been very stupid. You have not behaved at all well towards me, and yet it pains me to be the one who will have to give you up to the police."
Her lips trembled.
"Do you mean to give me up to the police?"
"Did you think I would become your accomplice?"
"I haven't committed any crime. What is more, I am fighting to vindicate the honour of someone I have never seen. I don't care if you do give me up to the police. I should only be sorry to think that I would be the cause of your being arrested."
"Me arrested? What do you mean?"
"Of course, you would be able to clear yourself eventually. But you did bring me across the Channel, didn't you? You did make people believe I was your wife; and you did help me to escape from the scene of the crime. It will be very hard to convince the police that you didn't know what you were doing. Don't you agree, Lord Bannister?"
For a long while, he remained silent. Indeed, he had been with the girl from the start, and no one was likely to believe that they were chance companions. Even if he could get them to accept his own story, there would certainly be an awful scandal.
"Yes," he said at last. "You are right. I would be in a horribly tight corner. But I think it is more important to act honourably than to pander to public opinion. I have acted in good faith, even if my actions get me into trouble. It would be most dishonourable of me not to give you up to the police even if I didn't have to suffer for it myself."
There was a silence during which they watched the rain rushing past the windows.
"Well," she said, "I have got you into trouble, so let me make amends. There's no need to involve you at all. When we get to Marseilles, I will give myself up to the airport police under your very eyes. I'll give them the envelope and tell them that I am Evelyn Weston. Then I shall be arrested without your being involved at all."
"I agree to that. Let me warn you, however, that I'll be watching your every movement. You'd better not try any tricks with me. My honour will be in your hands."
"No one could be more concerned for your honour than me," she said in a muffled, quivering voice; and he gave her a surprised look. They were silent during the rest of the flight.
At Marseilles, all the passengers descended to stretch their legs and so no one found it peculiar to see Evelyn and Lord Bannister also taking a stroll. Suddenly she left his side and walked with resolute steps straight towards a door marked "Police." Lord Bannister followed her at a distance of some eight yards; then he was astounded to see her take from her handbag that large envelope with the five seals before quickening her pace.
What happened next Lord Bannister was ever afterwards at a loss to explain, even to himself: it was as if he had been pushed from behind: he hurried after her and caught her by the arm just as she reached the door.
"Wait," he said breathlessly. "I don't want you to... I don't care what you did... I couldn't bear you to be hurt... Put that envelope away!"
She obeyed him in alarm.
"Listen," he continued. "You are to fly on to Morocco and when you get there you may run away and do whatever you like. I don't want to know that you've been arrested. Do you understand? I'm sure I don't."
"B-but - Why?"
"It may be stupid of me but I just don't want this to happen. That's all."
When the plane took off once again, they were sitting side by side in sorrowful silence.
Lord Bannister was deathly pale.
2.
"You are both so kind that if you both wanted to marry me I wouldn't know which of you to choose," said Grete, with a seven-inch smile. It was then that Mr. Arthur Rancing conceived a deep respect for his nephew, who was planning to marry this female for the paltry sum of one million pounds. It was simply nothing for such a heroic deed.
Next, Arthur Rancing went to see old Wollishoff. He had brought from Zurich a present of a hearing aid for his host so they were able to talk in comfort. He would have gone mad otherwise.
"A Wollishoff girl must bring to her marriage a sum large enough to enable the couple to settle down in a respectable fashion," said the bride's father.
"That's just what I expected to hear from you," replied A.B.C.D. (Arthur Bede Cecil David) Rancing. "That's the way to talk! Just what one would expect of a true Helvetian gentleman! You can't deny that you are an industrial consultant. In England, industrial consultants are held in great respect."
"I ask nothing in return, except that Mr. Rancing should love my daughter."
"Herr Wollishoff, I know my family. My nephew Edward adores your daughter. He is half-mad with love for her. Can't sleep at night."
"I know. The doctor's told me about that. He'll get over it though. He ought to take digestion tablets..."
"What, in your opinion, would be a suitable date for the wedding?"
Wollishoff reflected.
"Well, I think... Would Whitsun be all right?"
It was now three and a half weeks before Whitsun.
"Perfectly. Whitsun," Arthur Bede Rancing continued, waxing lyrical, "is the day of flowers and loving hearts. Whitsun will be a most suitable date."
"That's what I think too. Well, then, the wedding can take place two years from Whitsun."
Seconds later Arthur Rancing had still forgotten to replace his jaw.
"It cannot take place sooner than that on any account," Wollishoff continued. "And even another six months after that wouldn't make much difference, I think."
"Do you really mean that? But it's impossible."
"Why should it be impossible? I have told you that my daughter cannot enter her marriage just anyhow. Unfortunately, some of the entries about certain technical aspects of the sewerage system were found to be incorrect last year. I had been put in charge of the drainage system for the town..."
"But there are no drains in this place at all!"
"That's the trouble, my dear Mr. Rancing. I had been given the task of providing them, and I have not succeeded. You see, drains cost money. See what I mean? We haven't got the drains yet, but we have had the expenses. I couldn't tell you myself how it all happened. As my uncle happens to be an influential man, they have been content to confiscate my property pending reimbursement of the expenditure incurred in local development. And such developments cost a lot of money. You can take that from me. I happen to have had some experience. It'll take me at least two years to refund the sum, even if I hand over my total income for the purpose. I am not the first nor the last of those who sacrifice everything they possess to promote the development of their native country."
"You don't mean to say you want your daughter to wait all that time?"
"Why not? When she's already been waiting so long? She waited for her first fiancé for five years; but he volunteered and was taken prisoner."
"Yes, I know. A number of Swiss fought with the French..."
"This was with the Japanese. In the Russo-Japanese war. She had another fiancé who fought for the French."
"That's a fine tradition, to be sure. Still, two years is such a long time..."
"It's no use arguing, sir. A Wollishoff girl shall not marry while her father is threatened with criminal proceedings."
Neither argument nor petition was of any avail; Herr Wollishoff remained obstinate in his decision.
The two Rancings paced up and down the guest-room in despair.
"A pretty kettle of fish, this!" A.B.C.D. Rancing raged. "Here we are, with a diamond worth one million pounds sterling housed under the same roof, and we can't do anything about it."
"How much did the deaf old bounder pinch, anyway?" said E.F.G.H. (Edward Frederic George Henry) Rancing.
"I took a cursory look at the books and from what I could see I gather there was a deficit of about two thousand pounds."
"Then don't be ridiculous, uncle! You have only to hold out your hand and there's one million quid for the taking; yet you're allowing a paltry sum like that to stand in your way! Come on, fork it out!"
A.B.C.D. stood still in perplexity.
"What are you thinking about?" E.F.G.H. continued vehemently. "We'll get five hundred thousand quid each, and so far it's been I who have done all the work. You've done nothing but wait for the plum to fall into your lap. The least you could do would be to put your hand in your pocket now and then. You won't? Very well. Good-bye."
Impetuously, he snatched up his hat. He was seriously resolved to quit. Recent events had told upon his nerves. He was emaciated, his pale face showed signs of latent neurosis; and ever since that balcony scene, he had been tormented by rheumatism. For him Mügli am See had been the scene of much suffering.
"Wait!" A.B.C.D. cried. "That's not such a bad idea of yours."
Three days later, to the utter astonishment of the authorities, Herr Wollishoff refunded the entire deficit which included the fees for a quite imaginary assistant-engineer.
3.
For the inhabitants of Mügli am See Whitsuntide dawned cool, fine and sunny. It was the wedding day of old Wollishoff's daughter and crowds of folk in their best clothes paraded the streets, anxious to see the sights. On three previous Sundays the banns had been read by the priest. The lattice garden gate was, for some unknown reason, pasted all over with coloured paper, and the valet and the porter were wearing new liveries given to them by Mr. Arthur B.C.D. Rancing. Victoria, Head Gardener Kruttikofer's wife, had even combed her hair. The square in front of the Town Hall had been swept clean. The national colours had been hung out above the local restaurant.
That was how matters stood at 10 a.m.
At that hour precisely, Eddy Rancing picked up the morning paper, which had been placed beside his plate. He then swallowed a large piece of a crusty roll and for a few seconds was unable to breathe at all for there on the front page, in the boldest type ever used, was the headline:
100,000 FRANCS REWARD FOR INFORMATION
LEADING TO THE ARREST OF EVELYN WESTON
His eyes flew over the print. What was this? Evelyn a spy? And what was she doing in France? For Eddy loved Evelyn and had been planning all along to marry her as soon as he had money to support her, and had even decided that if she refused his hand in marriage he would nevertheless give her a suitable share of the price of the diamond.
He turned over the pages of the newspaper and for the second time was afflicted with the same difficulty in breathing.
Lord and Lady Bannister, said the caption; but the picture showed Evelyn, wearing a kimono, standing at the door of a state-room on board ship in the company of an exceedingly startled looking gentleman. There was no doubt about it - it was Evelyn Weston! He used to see her in that kimono in the King's Road for a couple of seconds every morning when she took the milk from the doorstep.
But what was the explanation of the photographs? On the front page she was wanted by the police; and on the back page she was the wife of the celebrated scientist! Eddy's head swam with confused thoughts.
Below the picture, there was a brief account of the tremendous interest aroused by the lecture Lord Bannister gave in Paris. Lady Bannister had accompanied her husband to Paris but she had been indisposed and unable to attend the lecture. Naturally she had not been present at the lecture; what she had been doing, it seemed, was to break into a house, steal some important document and get away, leaving a couple of corpses in her wake.
Eddy was worried. For the first time, his instinct told him that something had gone badly wrong. What was the clue that had brought her to France? For that she was there to look for the Buddha Eddy had no doubt whatever.
Uneasily, he took the sales ledger from his trunk. But there was no mistaking the entry. One single "Dreaming Buddha" had been sold in May, along with the "Harvesters," and both pieces had been sent here, to this Herr Wollishoff.
Then why had she gone to Paris? And, according to the newspaper, she had been enquiring after some ceramic statuette...
He sat still, brooding, and as he did so his glance fell on the cover of the ledger.
And now he noticed something very odd, something which for some moments kept him motionless, paralysed with horror.
Under the label on the cover of the ledger he could see the edge of a second label protruding.
He took out his pocket-knife and started scraping the label.
The church-bells were ringing. People were flocking to the church. They had brought out the fire-engine garlanded with flowers. Standing up on the driver's box was Unteroffizier Zobelmann, in top-hat and tails, waving to the populace in a friendly manner.
The village choir was assembling on the main square.
But the bridegroom was sitting crouched in front of the sales ledger, his hair dishevelled, his eyes starting out of his head.
Now he understood all. It was Evelyn who was on the right trail. That was how she had become involved in the espionage affair. He, on the other hand, had been sold the wrong ledger, with the right label pasted on it. It was clear that Grete's Buddha could contain nothing more than a pair of scissors, some embroidery silks, and a few thimbles.
4.
There was a knock on the door.
Quickly, he hid the book.
"Come in."
It was Uncle Arthur, wearing a frock-coat and a solemn expression.
"Here's your best man, Eddy."
"I couldn't care less. Uncle, I have changed my mind. I don't want the fortune. I am not going to marry this girl. I can't. What can I do?"
"Are you crazy? Just think, my boy, tonight the clay god will be ours!"
"And she'll be mine. No."
"What do you propose to do?"
"Oil out of here."
A.B.C.D. almost foamed at the mouth.
"All right. I will stay! I'll carry on on my own."
"Will you marry her?"
"I will," Arthur Bede said resolutely.
Eddy was deeply moved.
"Oh, uncle. Many's the time you have accused me of being frivolous and cynical. Now you will realise that you were wrong. Have it your own way. I'll let you have the diamond all for yourself and renounce my claim to Grete's hand." He heaved a deep sigh and gazed wistfully out of the window, towards the distant summits. "May you be happy with her."
"You renounce your share?" Rancing the Elder asked.
"I do," replied Rancing the Younger. "All I want you to do is to pay me for my trouble in finding the treasure for you. Give me two thousand quid, and I'll be off."
"Not a penny more!"
"I've no intention of bargaining with you. Wollishoff would give me as much in return for the secret. Maybe more."
He grabbed his hat, flung his overcoat over his arm, and moved to the door.
"Wait! You scoundrel! You blood-sucker!"
"You are really rather ungrateful. For a paltry two thousand quid, I have made you a millionaire. I don't want your sordid money. I'm going to see old Wollishoff!"
"Wait!... Come, Eddy, why be so touchy? Am I right in thinking that for two thousand pounds sterling you will waive all your rights? Are you ready to sign a statement to that effect?"
"That's right. I don't want to have anything to do with either the diamond or the girl any more."
An hour later, Eddy was on his way to Zurich, whence he proceeded to Marseilles by the very next plane. He was now in possession of a clue of which the police were ignorant. He had only to discover where Lord Bannister lived and there he would find Evelyn. It would, of course, have been possible to pick up a hundred thousand francs right away by handing over his information to the police, but he had no desire to betray her. Besides, he still wanted to get hold of the diamond.
Meantime, Arthur B.C.D. Rancing had explained to old Herr Wollishoff that he, too, had fallen in love with Grete, and that he had spent the previous evening persuading his nephew that it would be a great tragedy to deprive a man in the prime of life of his last great love. They had drawn lots and he, Arthur Rancing, had won. His nephew Edward had left for Hiittliberg, broken-hearted. Now he had come on the morning of this festival day to ask for the bride's hand in marriage.
After only a moment's hesitation, Grete happily threw herself into Mr. Arthur Rancing's arms. The girl had already been through two bridal campaigns and was not to be daunted by any unexpected move when a wedding was in view.
"But the banns have not been read," protested the coroner, who was well versed in ecclesiastical law.
"That's all right," said Arthur Bede airily. "They have read out the banns for Mr. Rancing, and that's my name too."
There was a slight commotion among the crowd when it was learned that the chief actor in the drama had been replaced by his uncle but everyone soon accepted the situation. The manager of the local repertory company gave a sizable crowd an account of the bloody duel that had been fought by the two relatives at midnight.
Doctor Loebli, representing the local branch of the First Aid Society, presented to the newly-weds the gift of a silk pillow embroidered with the warning:
Accidents Can Happen To Anyone
5.
The plane was nearing Morocco. Evelyn and Lord Bannister exchanged only a few words. She said nothing about the "criminal case." She laughed at herself for being so happy. For what cause had she to be happy? When they arrived, they would go their separate ways. She wondered if he would ever discover how complete was her innocence. What was it Uncle Marius would say? "A woman's honour is like a good tailoring: it must not strike the eye, not even to earn praise."
"I say, Lord Bannister," said Holler who, now that he was no longer air sick, was pestering them with his company once again. "I wonder when I could have the pleasure of inspecting your laboratory? You did promise that you would show it to me and my editors are waiting eagerly for an article on the subject."
"Ah... er... it's quite up to you. The pleasure will be mine."
"Well, the sooner the better. People in England are tremendously interested in your work. Excuse me."
He made a hurried retreat, for they had begun to come down in a wide spiral, a manoeuvre which always affected him unpleasantly. A few seconds later there was a gentle bump on the ground, the humming noise subsided, the plane taxied up to the hangars, and the long trip was over.
They were in Morocco.
"We must leave in the same taxi," Lord Bannister told Evelyn. "Let me know where I can drop you on the way. We need only keep up this farce till we've got rid of this horrible Holler. I believe he's leaving us now."
A well-known psychologist tells us that unjustified optimism is a characteristic of most research scientists; and Lord Bannister's present hope that Holler was about to take his leave of them was quite unwarranted. After hailing a taxi, he turned round to say good-bye to the journalist, who, however, did not take his proffered hand, but instead handed his suitcase to the driver.
"With your permission, I will avail myself of your generous invitation and come along with you. One can never afford to miss a good story for the paper, and since Lord Bannister has left it to me to name the time of my visit, my respect for him forbids me to keep him waiting. I hope I am not intruding upon you?"
Well, the Press, as Lord Bannister was well aware, was a formidable taskmaster. The only satisfactory way of dealing with a fellow like this, he thought, would be to mince him up for sausages. He cursed the habit of casual politeness which had driven him to invite Holler to choose the time of his visit; there was nothing for it now but to grin and bear it.
He wondered if this Nosey Parker could possibly have any suspicion about the real nature of their situation.
Now he would be compelled to take the girl with him to his villa, to keep up appearances. She came to his assistance.
"I shall go straight into town. I have a number of things to attend to rather urgently."
"In that case I shall not stay long, for I would be only too happy to serve as your guide, Lady Bannister."
'Why ever don't people like this bounder get run over by trams while they are still children?' reflected Lord Bannister moodily before saying aloud:
"I will have luncheon served immediately."
"That will be nice," Evelyn replied sadly. "I feel hungry."
Lord Bannister was aware that she was both hungry and tired, and that he had no wish to drop her somewhere in the street. But what was the explanation of his reluctance? It was high time to part company with Evelyn Weston, the girl with a price on her head-alive or dead!
And here he was taking her home with him - alive! And hungry!
Lord Bannister's villa was in the wealthiest residential district of Guéliz and was set in a flowery garden screened from view by the dense foliage of palm-trees.
Luncheon was not a very cheerful meal although P. J. Holler tucked in and laughed heartily at his own jokes. Evelyn found it hard to realise that she was in Africa. The dining-room might have been in London: there was even a fireplace. She looked round rather wistfully, touching the prayer rug, and picking up a porcelain shepherdess from the mantelpiece. She quietly came to the conclusion that it was going to be painful to leave this place - something she would have to do pretty soon.
She did not notice when Lord Bannister and his visitor left the dining-room to go to the laboratory. A beckoning armchair brought home to her the fact that she had had practically no sleep for the last twenty-four hours. Sadly, she put on her hat, slipped quietly out of the house and hurried down the garden path. She closed the lattice gate behind her.
6.
She hesitated for a few moments, wondering where to start looking first, then she hailed a taxi and told the driver to take her to the top of the hill where the fortress of Guéliz was situated. The soldiers at the reception office received her politely. A sick legionary? Münster?... Well, what was the nature of the business she wished to discuss with him?... A family affair?... Hm... The men here seldom had family affairs, though this... er... Münster might well be an exception. Perhaps she would make inquiries at the garrison hospital.
But no, Legionnaire Münster was not at the hospital at the moment. He had received treatment here recently. Where was he now? Well, madame would understand that they must supply no information without permission from the Commanding Officer. She had come from there? Well, would she kindly go back there and go straight to the Paymaster's office, Number Two Company, Reserve Battalion H.Q. So she returned to Guéliz.
"Sorry, madame" said the sentry. "The office is closed now. Anyway, the Reserve Battalion H.Q. Paymaster's office can give no information on postings of anyone serving in the ranks unless specially instructed to do so by the central Regimental Command of G.H.Q., Oran, and for this they must have written permission from the Commanding Officer. That's all you need. With a bit of luck - and influence - the rest goes like clockwork." That was all she had accomplished by 1 p.m. She had been so intent on her mission that she had not noticed that she was being shadowed by a man with a full beard.
Once again she found herself standing in the centre of the town, dispirited, and wondering where she could go to next. There was no one to whom she could turn for help for she herself was wanted by the police - alive or dead. Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke behind her.
"Oh, hello!" said the voice. "Could I escort you anywhere, Lady Bannister?"
It was Holler! He was the man she needed!
"Hello. Have you finished your interview with... er... my husband?" She blushed. My husband, forsooth! A pretty humbug she had become.
"Oh, yes. We finished pretty soon. Lord Bannister pressed me to stay longer, but I can't stand being cooped up for very long. You look rather tired. Would you care to have tea with me? I should be delighted."
"Thank you." She felt so weak and tired that she accepted the invitation with relief. She decided to ask his advice. After all, there was no one else she could possibly consult.
"Lord Bannister has done an admirable job." Holler enthused over tea. "He showed me one of the cultures. Amazing! Under the microscope it looked like a herd of fine Merino sheep on an alpine pasture. What a germ pen! I don't understand anything about it though. I should have thought he would want to destroy these animals, not cultivate them. But, of course, a newspaperman isn't supposed to know about medicine. The important thing is that Lord Bannister is a popular man, and that every time I run a feature on his sleeping-sickness theory in the Sunday supplement, we get heaps of letters of congratulation."
"I usually cut out those articles," she said cunningly. Her words had an amazing effect.
"Really?" said Holler, his cheeks aglow. "You make me happy, Lady Bannister. Lord Bannister is sometimes dissatisfied with my articles. Finds fault with trifles. Recently, he quite seriously scolded me because, he said, sleeping-sickness and malaria are two different things. Well, I am no physician and how could I be expected to know all the details? The important thing was that the readers talked about the Sunday article for days and that a League of Artisans for Combating Sleeping-Sickness was founded and I was elected Vice-President. Lord Bannister has been elected Honorary President of the League and a resolution passed calling for a major consignment of alarm-clocks to be sent to India, for the benefit of people suffering from sleeping-sickness. Thanks to the campaign conducted in my papers, we have managed to rouse people's consciences, and society is at last prepared to combat sleeping-sickness."
"Henry is rather a severe critic in scientific matters."
"It must be a family trait."
"Yes. The Bannisters on the whole are conservative."
"The Bannisters! But I think there is only one Lord Bannister?"
"I mean to say... that is... even though Henry has no brothers..."
Holler looked astounded.
"I understood that he had several brothers!"
She realised how careful she would have to be if she was not to drop a brick and therefore replied boldly, "I see that you are not too well informed about our family."
"Who? Me? I should think I am a walking Debrett. Take Bannister. Your husband's late uncle's father did some renowned work in the classification of warm-blooded mammals of the tertiary period, and in recognition of these services a gracious sovereign was pleased to bestow on him a peerage. He was the first Lord Bannister. The second Lord Bannister was your husband's late uncle. This Lord Bannister, Austin Clifford, the universally esteemed vermicelli-and-noodles manufacturer, died eight years ago, and as he had no children, his title was inherited by your respected husband. As you see, Lady Bannister, a British newspaperman is not wholly ignorant of the noble families of Great Britain. Now, if your marriage should be blessed with a son... Hullo!... Today, something always seems to be going down the wrong way either with Lord Bannister or with you. Oh, just let it dry. It leaves no stain."
With difficulty, she recovered from her coughing fit.
"You do seem to know the history of our family pretty well."
"You see, that's what's so nice about the English practice of granting titles. You come into this world as a plain Mr. mith, then if you're lucky some distant relation may die leaving no son, and a plain scientist can inherit both a title and a new name."
"I think perhaps we might ask for the bill, Mr. Holler. I still have some business to settle. I hope this time I shall be successful."
"Can I be of any help to you? I know Morocco inside out. I come over here several times a year, and publish long reports about the horrors of Africa."
"I would like to trace a sick member of the Legion. He used to be a good friend of a cousin of mine and I promised his family in London that I would make inquiries about him here."
"In that case, it's really lucky for you that I am here. The authorities are somewhat unaccommodating when it comes to matters concerning those fellows. You can never tell what people may want to see them about. But I know how to tackle the Commanding Officer... Garçon! The bill!"
7.
Once again, she was in a taxi on the way to Guéliz. This time, however, Holler was sitting by her side.
At the fortress, Holler showed himself in his most boisterous mood. First he quarrelled with the sentry, who again refused admittance on the grounds that the office was closed. Holler spoke so violently that eventually an officer came out and after listening to the journalist, led them into the fort.
By the time they reached the office on the second floor, Holler had made friends with four high-ranking officers and everyone in the office was talking freely. Bestowing ten francs here, a benign smile there, stern with one fellow and all affability with another, he struck the right note everywhere. He took the formidable fortress of Guéliz by storm.
By four o'clock, they had found out that Münster was recovering from a serious wound at no great distance from the fortress, in Number Two Company's convalescent camp in the oasis of Marbouk: a mere two days' ride by camel.
"It's so very good of you," said Evelyn.
Holler beamed happily, and replied:
"Oh, it's nothing. Last year, it took me only two days to trace a leather merchant who hadn't been seen since the Boer War. What do you propose to do now, Lady Bannister?"
Evelyn wished he would be less of a stickler for address. Every other sentence of this title-maniac made the blush rise to her cheeks.
"I shall make the trip to Oasis Marbouk. I've never been to a place like that anyway."
"Will Lord Bannister go with you?"
"N-no... For once, I'd like to go on my own. I don't want to disturb him in his work. Can you hire guides here, do you know?"
"Certainly. Have you not yet made a trip into the desert?"
"No, I haven't. That's just the idea..."
"But then you won't have the necessary equipment, either. Now isn't this sheer luck that I am here! I have been to the Sahara lots of times. And without spending much money either. And yet these merchant robbers will skin you if you don't look out. Will you permit me to arrange your trip for you?"
"I don't know how to thank you..."
"It'll be a pleasure. In the first place, the equipment. For, you see, skirts and that sort of thing are useless a few hundred yards south of the town. However, I'm not going to take you to any of the bazaars in the centre of the town. What you want is an Arab merchant. None but Arabs. In the centre, they will sell you inferior goods at high prices, though they behave so politely. Let the tourists go to those shops... Taxi!"
He took Evelyn to Mellah. In the tumult of the marche arabe, they could only move forward inch by inch. Having reached what appeared to be the narrowest alley in the most squalid part of the Arab quarter, Holler dismissed the taxi and they proceeded on foot down the evil-smelling lane.
They did not notice the man with the full beard who from time to time spat out bits of tobacco and who had followed them all the way from the camp.
Holler took Evelyn into a small, dimly lit shop, which was buzzing with flies. The shopkeeper, a hawk-nosed Arab with a goatee, emerged from the semi-darkness to greet them. Then they selected everything that was needed - topee, topboots, breeches, thermos flask, foodbox sealed hermetically with a rubber tape, and the rest of the paraphernalia.
Next came the bargaining, such as Evelyn had never seen before.
At first the merchant laughed; later on, he beat his chest, rushed into the street and shook his fists at the passers-by. After that, he came rushing back, foaming at the mouth, and tugging and tearing at his burnous; then, throwing up his hands, he gazed despairingly at the ceiling before throwing himself on the breeches, sobbing as if he was mourning over the body of his son. Holler, on the other hand, beat the table with one fist, then laughed sardonically, and seemed to be trying to prove something by rolling up one leg of his trousers to show the merchant the quality of his sock. The merchant was visibly impressed and pushed the sun-helmet over to Holler; but when the latter reached for the breeches, he once again went berserk, like a bitch when someone tries to get near her pup, and clasped the garment to his bosom, breathing heavily.
An hour later, all the things lay before them on the counter, neatly wrapped. They paid, and left.
"You have made an excellent bargain," Holler said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead contentedly.
"Aren't you afraid that this Arab will kill you one day?"
"What! This man? Why, I'm one of his regular customers. He is a good friend of mine. We write to each other when I am in London."
8.
With the guide, it was smoother sailing. These were desert people, well-organised.
The guide was a short, scraggy Berber, with dark-brown skin and curly hair round his shaven crown. He said that if they set out at dawn next day they might arrive at Marbouk during the morning of the fourth day.
"Could I go with him across the desert at night?" Evelyn asked Holler.
"You will be absolutely safe with me, madam," replied the Berber in impeccable English. "Desert guides are true-blue gentlemen."
She felt ashamed.
"These fellows are just great children," Holler said, laughing.
"I knew a Berber guide who worked for years with the Philadelphia Concert Orchestra and eventually returned to the desert because of a disappointment in love."
A chocolate-coloured little girl came out of the house to admire the lovely European lady at close quarters.
"What a sweet darling," Evelyn said. She lifted the child from the dust, and wiped the smudged little face. Then she gave the little one her brooch which in fact was of no value and served only to fasten her shawl.
"An amulet," the little one stammered, amazed. "A charm!" The child hardly dared touch the shining object.
"They will go through fire and water for you now," Holler explained to her as they walked away. "Well, good-bye to you. I hope you will succeed. Be sure to arrive punctually at the appointed place. These guides are apt to turn round and go home if the fare isn't there on time."
 |  |  |
|
|
|