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"Can we buy a ship with this, Julie, that will take us across the sea?"
"Leave everything to me," she said. "We are going. Now sit down, eat your breakfast. I know how hungry you are. You don't have to tell me."
He laughed in spite of himself.
"And I shall see to things at once."
She went into the kitchen. Oscar was just setting the breakfast tray for them. The room was full of the good smells of coffee, and cinnamon, and freshly baked muffins.
"Oscar, telephone Thomas Cook for me immediately. Book a passage for Mr. Ramsey and me to Alexandria. See if you can arrange for it straight away. We'll leave today if possible. Do hurry, and leave these things to me."
How amazed he was.
"But, Miss Julie, what about--"
"Do it, Oscar. Make the calls at once. Hurry. There's no time to lose."
Carrying the heavy tray, she came back out into the sunlight, and once more the great lovely flowers startled her. The purple orchids and the yellow daisies, equally beautiful.
"Why, look at it," she whispered. "And to think I scarcely noticed it before. Everything in bloom. Oh, so lovely...."
He stood by the back door, watching her with that same sad and beautiful expression. "Yes, very lovely," he said.
HE HOUSE was in an uproar. Rita had all but lost her mind at the idea that she was going to Egypt. Oscar, remaining to keep the house, had been helping the cabbies get the trunks down the stairs.
Randolph and Alex were arguing furiously with Julie that she must not make this trip.
And the enigmatic Mr. Reginald Ramsey sat at the wicker table in the conservatory devouring an enormous meal
, with glass after glass to wash it down. All the while he read the newspapers, two of them at a time, if Elliott was not mistaken. And now and then he lifted a book from the pile on the floor, and rushed through the pages as if searching for some dreadfully important item, and once finding it, dropped the book with a careless thud.
Elliott sat in Lawrence's chair in the Egyptian room watching all of this silently; glancing now and then to Julie in the drawing room; and then to Mr. Ramsey, who surely knew that he was being observed but did not seem to care.
The other silent and solitary watcher was Samir Ibrahaim, who stood to the very back of the conservatory, somewhat lost in the remarkable profusion of spring foliage, staring past the indifferent Mr. Ramsey into the shadowy front rooms.
Julie's call to Elliott had come over three hours ago. He had gone into action immediately. And he knew more or less what was going to happen now, as the little drama in the drawing room played itself out.
"But you simply cannot go off to Egypt with a man you know nothing about," Randolph said, trying to keep his voice down. "You can't take such a trip without a proper chaperon."
"Julie, I won't have it," Alex said, pale with exasperation. "I won't have you do this alone."
"Now, stop, both of you," Julie responded. "I'm a grown woman. I'm going. And I can take care of myself. Besides, I'll have Rita with me all the time. And Samir, Father's closest friend. I couldn't have a better protector than Samir."
"Julie, neither of them is a proper companion and you know this. This is nothing short of scandalous."
"Uncle Randolph, the boat leaves at four o'clock. We must be leaving here now. Let's get to the business at hand, shall we? I've had a power of attorney prepared, so that you can run Stratford Shipping with a free hand."
Silence. So at last we get to the heart of the matter, Elliott thought coolly. He could hear Randolph slowly clearing his throat.
"Well, I suppose that's necessary, my dear," he answered weakly.
Alex tried to interrupt, but Julie overrode him politely. Were there any other papers Randolph wanted her to sign? He could send them on to Alexandria immediately. She'd sign them and send them home from there.
Satisfied that Julie would be leaving on schedule, Elliott rose and walked casually out into the conservatory.
Ramsey went on eating superhuman amounts of food, quite undeterred. He now took one of three different lighted cigars and drew on it, then went back to his pudding, and his roast beef, and his buttered bread. It was a history of modern Egypt that lay open before him, the chapter entitled "The Mamluke Massacre." The man appeared to be scanning, so rapidly did his finger move down the page.
Suddenly Elliott realized he was surrounded by foliage. He was almost startled by the size of the fern beside him, and the immense heavy bougainvillea brushing his shoulder, as it partially blocked the door. Good Lord, what had happened here? Lilies everywhere he looked, and the daisies exploding out of their pots, and the ivy gone wild over the entire roof.
