NAHOUM TURNS THE SCREW
Laughing to himself, Higli Pasha sat with the stem of a narghileh in his
mouth. His big shoulders kept time to the quivering of his fat stomach. He was
sitting in a small court-yard of Nahoum Pasha's palace, waiting for its owner to
appear. Meanwhile he exercised a hilarious patience. The years had changed him
little since he had been sent on that expedition against the southern tribes
which followed hard on David's appointment to office. As David had expected, few
of the traitorous officers returned. Diaz had ignominiously died of the bite of
a tarantula before a blow had been struck, but Higli had gratefully received a
slight wound in the first encounter, which enabled him to beat a safe retreat to
Cairo. He alone of the chief of the old conspirators was left. Achmet was still
at the Place of Lepers, and the old nest of traitors was scattered for ever.
Only Nahoum and Higli were left, and between these two there had never been
partnership or understanding. Nahoum was not the man to trust to confederates,
and Higli Pasha was too contemptible a coadjutor. Nahoum had faith in no one
save Mizraim the Chief Eunuch, but Mizraim alone was better than a thousand; and
he was secret—and terrible. Yet Higli had a conviction that Nahoum's alliance
with David was a sham, and that David would pay the price of misplaced
confidence one day. More than once when David's plans had had a set-back, Higli
had contrived a meeting with Nahoum, to judge for himself the true position.
For his visit to-day he had invented a reason—a matter of finance; but his
real reason was concealed behind the malevolent merriment by which he was now
seized. So absorbed was he that he did not heed the approach of another visitor
down an angle of the court-yard. He was roused by a voice.
"Well, what's tickling you so, pasha?"
The voice was drawling, and quite gentle; but at the sound of it, Higli's
laugh stopped short, and the muscles of his face contracted. If there was one
man of whom he had a wholesome fear—why, he could not tell—it was this
round-faced, abrupt, imperturbable American, Claridge Pasha's right-hand man.
Legends of resourcefulness and bravery had gathered round his name. "Who's been
stroking your chin with a feather, pasha?" he continued, his eye piercing the
other like a gimlet.
"It was an amusing tale I heard at Assiout, effendi," was Higli's abashed and
"Oh, at Assiout!" rejoined Lacey. "Yes, they tell funny stories at Assiout.
And when were you at Assiout, pasha?"
"Two days ago, effendi."
"And so you thought you'd tell the funny little story to Nahoum as quick as
could be, eh? He likes funny stories, same as you—damn, nice, funny little
There was something chilly in Lacey's voice now, which Higli did not like;
something much too menacing and contemptuous for a mere man-of-all-work to the
Inglesi. Higli bridled up, his eyes glared sulkily.
"It is but my own business if I laugh or if I curse, effendi," he replied,
his hand shaking a little on the stem of the narghileh.
"Precisely, my diaphanous polyandrist; but it isn't quite your own affair
what you laugh at—not if I know it!"
"Does the effendi think I was laughing at him?"
"The effendi thinks not. The effendi knows that the descendant of a hundred
tigers was laughing at the funny little story, of how the two cotton-mills that
Claridge Pasha built were burned down all in one night, and one of his steamers
sent down the cataract at Assouan. A knock-down blow for Claridge Pasha, eh?
That's all you thought of, wasn't it? And it doesn't matter to you that the
cotton-mills made thousands better off, and started new industries in Egypt. No,
it only matters to you that Claridge Pasha loses half his fortune, and that you
think his feet are in the quicksands, and 'll be sucked in, to make an Egyptian
holiday. Anything to discredit him here, eh? I'm not sure what else you know;
but I'll find out, my noble pasha, and if you've had your hand in it—but no, you
ain't game-cock enough for that! But if you were, if you had a hand in the
making of your funny little story, there's a nutcracker that 'd break the shell
of that joke—"
He turned round quickly, seeing a shadow and hearing a movement. Nahoum was
but a few feet away. There was a bland smile on his face, a look of innocence in
his magnificent blue eye. As he met Lacey's look, the smile left his lips, a
grave sympathy appeared to possess them, and he spoke softly:
"I know the thing that burns thy heart, effendi, to whom be the flowers of
hope and the fruits of merit. It is even so, a great blow has fallen. Two hours
since I heard. I went at once to see Claridge Pasha, but found him not. Does he
know, think you?" he added sadly.
"May your heart never be harder than it is, pasha, and when I left the Saadat
an hour ago, he did not know. His messenger hadn't a steamer like Higli Pasha
there. But he was coming to see you; and that's why I'm here. I've been brushing
the flies off this sore on the hump of Egypt while waiting." He glanced with
disdain at Higli.
A smile rose like liquid in the eye of Nahoum and subsided, then he turned to
"I have come on business, Excellency; the railway to Rosetta, and—"
"To-morrow—or the next day," responded Nahoum irritably, and turned again to
As Higli's huge frame disappeared through a gateway, Nahoum motioned Lacey to
a divan, and summoned a slave for cooling drinks. Lacey's eyes now watched him
with an innocence nearly as childlike as his own. Lacey well knew that here was
a foe worthy of the best steel. That he was a foe, and a malignant foe, he had
no doubt whatever; he had settled the point in his mind long ago; and two
letters he had received from Lady Eglington, in which she had said in so many
words, "Watch Nahoum!" had made him vigilant and intuitive. He knew, meanwhile,
that he was following the trail of a master-hunter who covered up his tracks.
Lacey was as certain as though he had the book of Nahoum's mind open in his
hand, that David's work had been torn down again—and this time with dire
effect—by this Armenian, whom David trusted like a brother. But the black doors
that closed on the truth on every side only made him more determined to unlock
them; and, when he faltered as to his own powers, he trusted Mahommed Hassan,
whose devotion to David had given him eyes that pierced dark places.
"Surely the God of Israel has smitten Claridge Pasha sorely. My heart will
mourn to look upon his face. The day is insulting in its brightness," continued
Nahoum with a sigh, his eyes bent upon Lacey, dejection in his shoulders.
Lacey started. "The God of Israel!" How blasphemous it sounded from the lips
of Nahoum, Oriental of Orientals, Christian though he was also!
"I think, perhaps, you'll get over it, pasha. Man is born to trouble, and
you've got a lot of courage. I guess you could see other people bear a pile of
suffering, and never flinch."
Nahoum appeared not to notice the gibe. "It is a land of suffering, effendi,"
he sighed, "and one sees what one sees."
"Have you any idea, any real sensible idea, how those cotton-mills got
afire?" Lacey's eyes were fixed on Nahoum's face.
The other met his gaze calmly. "Who can tell! An accident, perhaps, or—"
"Or some one set the mills on fire in several places at once—they say the
buildings flamed out in every corner; and it was the only time in a month they
hadn't been running night and day. Funny, isn't it?"
"It looks like the work of an enemy, effendi." Nahoum shook his head gravely.
"A fortune destroyed in an hour, as it were. But we shall get the dog. We shall
find him. There is no hole deep enough to hide him from us."
"Well, I wouldn't go looking in holes for him, pasha.
"He isn't any cave-dweller, that incendiary; he's an artist—no palace is too
unlikely for him. No, I wouldn't go poking in mud-huts to find him."
"Thou dost not think that Higli Pasha—" Nahoum seemed startled out of
equanimity by the thought. Lacey eyed him meditatively, and said reflectively:
"Say, you're an artist, pasha. You are a guesser of the first rank. But I'd
guess again. Higli Pasha would have done it, if it had ever occurred to him; and
he'd had the pluck. But it didn't, and he hadn't. What I can't understand is
that the artist that did it should have done it before Claridge Pasha left for
the Soudan. Here we were just about to start; and if we'd got away south, the
job would have done more harm, and the Saadat would have been out of the way.
No, I can't understand why the firebug didn't let us get clean away; for if the
Saadat stays here, he'll be where he can stop the underground mining."
Nahoum's self-control did not desert him, though he fully realised that this
man suspected him. On the surface Lacey was right. It would have seemed better
to let David go, and destroy his work afterwards, but he had been moved by other
considerations, and his design was deep. His own emissaries were in the Soudan,
announcing David's determination to abolish slavery, secretly stirring up
feeling against him, preparing for the final blow to be delivered, when he went
again among the southern tribes. He had waited and waited, and now the time was
come. Had he, Nahoum, not agreed with David that the time had come for the
slave-trade to go? Had he not encouraged him to take this bold step, in the sure
belief that it would overwhelm him, and bring him an ignominious death,
embittered by total failure of all he had tried to do?
For years he had secretly loosened the foundations of David's work, and the
triumph of Oriental duplicity over Western civilisation and integrity was sweet
in his mouth. And now there was reason to believe that, at last, Kaid was
turning against the Inglesi. Everything would come at once. If all that he had
planned was successful, even this man before him should aid in his master's
"If it was all done by an enemy," he said, in answer to Lacey, at last,
"would it all be reasoned out like that? Is hatred so logical? Dost thou think
Claridge Pasha will not go now? The troops are ready at Wady-Halfa, everything
is in order; the last load of equipment has gone. Will not Claridge Pasha find
the money somehow? I will do what I can. My heart is moved to aid him."
"Yes, you'd do what you could, pasha," Lacey rejoined enigmatically, "but
whether it would set the Saadat on his expedition or not is a question. But I
guess, after all, he's got to go. He willed it so. People may try to stop him,
and they may tear down what he does, but he does at last what he starts to do,
and no one can prevent him—not any one. Yes, he's going on this expedition; and
he'll have the money, too." There was a strange, abstracted look in his face, as
though he saw something which held him fascinated.
Presently, as if with an effort, he rose to his feet, took the red fez from
his head, and fanned himself with it for a moment. "Don't you forget it, pasha;
the Saadat will win. He can't be beaten, not in a thousand years. Here he
Nahoum got to his feet, as David came quickly through the small gateway of
the court-yard, his head erect, his lips smiling, his eyes sweeping the place.
He came forward briskly to them. It was plain he had not heard the evil news.
"Peace be to thee, Saadat, and may thy life be fenced about with safety!"
David laid a hand on Lacey's arm and squeezed it, smiling at him with such
friendship that Lacey's eyes moistened, and he turned his head away.
There was a quiet elation in David's look. "We are ready at last," he said,
looking from one to the other. "Well, well," he added, almost boyishly, "has
thee nothing to say, Nahoum?"
Nahoum turned his head away as though overcome. David's face grew instantly
grave. He turned to Lacey. Never before had he seen Lacey's face with a look
like this. He grasped Lacey's arm. "What is it?" he asked quietly. "What does
thee want to say to me?"
But Lacey could not speak, and David turned again to Nahoum. "What is there
to say to me?" he asked. "Something has happened—what is it?... Come, many
things have happened before. This can be no worse. Do thee speak," he urged
"Saadat," said Nahoum, as though under the stress of feeling, "the
cotton-mills at Tashah and Mini are gone—burned to the ground."
For a moment David looked at him without sight in his eyes, and his face grew
very pale. "Excellency, all in one night, the besom of destruction was abroad,"
he heard Nahoum say, as though from great depths below him. He slowly turned his
head to look at Lacey. "Is this true?" he asked at last in an unsteady voice.
Lacey could not speak, but inclined his head.
David's figure seemed to shrink for a moment, his face had a withered look,
and his head fell forward in a mood of terrible dejection.
"Saadat! Oh, my God, Saadat, don't take it so!" said Lacey brokenly, and
stepped between David and Nahoum. He could not bear that the stricken face and
figure should be seen by Nahoum, whom he believed to be secretly gloating.
"Saadat," he said brokenly, "God has always been with you; He hasn't forgotten
"The work of years," David murmured, and seemed not to hear.
"When God permits, shall man despair?" interposed Nahoum, in a voice that
lingered on the words. Nahoum accomplished what Lacey had failed to do. His
voice had pierced to some remote corner in David's nature, and roused him. Was
it that doubt, suspicion, had been wakened at last? Was some sensitive nerve
touched, that this Oriental should offer Christian comfort to him in his need—to
him who had seen the greater light? Or was it that some unreality in the words
struck a note which excited a new and subconscious understanding? Perhaps it was
a little of all three. He did not stop to inquire. In crises such as that
through which he was passing, the mind and body act without reason, rather by
the primal instinct, the certain call of the things that were before reason was.
"God is with the patient," continued Nahoum; and Lacey set his teeth to bear
this insult to all things. But Nahoum accomplished what he had not anticipated.
David straightened himself up, and clasped his hands behind him. By a supreme
effort of the will he controlled himself, and the colour came back faintly to
his face. "God's will be done," he said, and looked Nahoum calmly in the eyes.
"It was no accident," he added with conviction. "It was an enemy of Egypt."
Suddenly the thing rushed over him again, going through his veins like a
poisonous ether, and clamping his heart as with iron. "All to do over again!" he
said brokenly, and again he caught Lacey's arm.
With an uncontrollable impulse Lacey took David's hand in his own warm, human
"Once I thought I lost everything in Mexico, Saadat, and I understand what
you feel. But all wasn't lost in Mexico, as I found at last, and I got
something, too, that I didn't put in. Say, let us go from here. God is backing
you, Saadat. Isn't it all right—same as ever?"
David was himself again. "Thee is a good man," he said, and through the
sadness of his eyes there stole a smile. "Let us go," he said. Then he added in
a businesslike way: "To-morrow at seven, Nahoum. There is much to do."
He turned towards the gate with Lacey, where the horses waited. Mahommed
Hassan met them as they prepared to mount. He handed David a letter. It was from
Faith, and contained the news of Luke Claridge's death. Everything had come at
once. He stumbled into the saddle with a moan.
"At last I have drawn blood," said Nahoum to himself with grim satisfaction,
as they disappeared. "It is the beginning of the end. It will crush him-I saw it
in his eyes. God of Israel, I shall rule again in Egypt!"