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"In any case, that, I am certain, she doesn't remember. And if she does, I doubt she cares. She's alive now, suffering, struggling with her wounds, her hungers ..." He stopped.
Ramses leaned forward. "Where is she!"
"Give it to me. And I will help you with her. I will do anything that I can. We won't be enemies, you and I. We aren't enemies now, are we?"
"No, not enemies!" Ramses whispered. His voice was soft, but his eyes were full of anger. "But I can't give it to you. It's far too dangerous. You simply do not understand."
"Yet you raised her from the dead like a bloody alchemist!" Elliott said heatedly. "And you will give it to Julie Stratford, will you not? And your devoted friend, Samir?"
Ramses didn't answer. He rested back against the wall, eyes forward again.
Elliott stood up.
"I'll be at Shepheard's. When you've brewed the elixir, call me there. I'll know your voice when you call. But be careful. Then we shall arrange another meeting."
Gathering up his walking stick, he started for the door. He did not look back, hard as that was for him. His face was burning with shame. But this was the only feeble chance that remained to him, and he played it out, miserable though he was.
There was a moment of fear as he walked in the dark alleyway alone. He was keenly aware not only of all the familiar aches and pains that plagued him, but also of the general weakness from which he was suffering, the premature curse of old age. Then it occurred to him that Ramses would follow!
He stopped, listened. Not a sound in the darkness. He went on.
She stood in the front room; she had not made up her mind whether or not she should kill this noisy bird. It was being quiet at this moment, clucking, dancing on its perch. And it was beautiful. If it did not scream, she would not kill it. That seemed fair enough.
The body of the dancing girl had begun to rot. She had dragged it into the farthest corner of the garden and there thrown a great cloth over it; but still she could smell it.
Even in the
back kitchen she could smell it. But that had not stopped her from consuming all the food she could find. A few lemons, very sweet: a loaf of stale bread.
After that she had changed into one of the other "frocks," to use the American's word for frilly dress. This one was white; she liked it because it made her skin look very fine and faintly golden; and it had even bigger skirts with great ruffles to hide her feet.
The pain in her feet was bad. So was the pain in her side. If Lord Rutherford did not come soon, she would go out again. Though how to find him, she had no idea. It had been hard enough finding this house again. She had driven the American motor car to the outskirts of this curious part of the city where the houses were old and without colour or decoration, and then she had wandered through the narrow streets until she saw the open door. Now she was growing impatient.
Suddenly she heard a knock.
"Your name?" she said in English.
"Elliott, Lord Rutherford. Open for me."
She opened the door at once.
"I have waited a long while for you, Lord Rutherford. You have brought the elixir to me? You know where is the man with the blue eyes?"
Lord Rutherford was startled by her English. She gave a little shrug of her shoulders as she closed the door. "Oh, yes, your language is no puzzle to me," she said. "In the streets of this city today I heard much of it and other such tongues. I learned many things. It's the past that's the puzzle, the world I can't remember!" Suddenly she felt angry. Why was he staring at her like that! "Where is Ramses!" she demanded. She was certain that that was the name of the man with the blue eyes.
"I spoke with him. I told him what was needed."
"Yes, Lord Rutherford." She approached him. He backed away from her. "Do you fear me?"
"I don't know. I want to protect you," he whispered.
"Ah, true. And Ramses, the blue-eyed one. Why does he not come?" Something unpleasant, something very unpleasant. A dim image of Ramses backing away from her. Of Ramses standing many feet away from her as she cried out. Something about the venom of the snake and ... she was screaming, but no one could hear her! And then they pulled the black cover over her face. She turned away from Lord Rutherford. "If I remembered nothing, it would be easier," she whispered. "But I see it, and then I see it no more." She turned back to him.
"You have to be patient," Lord Rutherford said. "He will come."
"Patient! I don't want to be patient. I want to find him. Tell me where he is. I shall go to him."
"I can't. That's impossible!"
