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"Lord Rutherford has great faith in the invisible, Samir. And he is no coward. He wants the secret of eternal life. He realizes what it really is, Samir."
No answer. Only the same distant and melancholy expression.
"And I'll tell you another little secret, my friend," he went on. "I've grown to like the man mightily."
"I've seen it, sire."
"He is an interesting man," Ramses said. And to his surprise he heard his voice break. It was hard for him to finish, but he did, saying: "I like to talk to him."
Hancock sat at his desk in the museum office, looking up at Inspector Trent from Scotland Yard.
"Well, as I see it, we have no choice. We seek a court order to enter the house and examine the collection. Of course if everything is as it should be, and there are no coins missing ..."
"Sir, with the two we have now, that's almost too much to hope for."
HE GRAND Colonial Hotel was a rambling pink confection of moorish arches, mosaic floors, lacquered screens and peacock wicker chairs, its broad verandas overlooking the shining sand and the endless blue of the Mediterranean beyond it.
Rich Americans and Europeans in perennial summer white thronged its immense lobby and other public rooms. An orchestra played Viennese music in one of its open bars. A young American pianist played ragtime in another. The ornate brass lifts, riding directly upwards beside the curving grand stair, seemed eternally in operation.
Surely if this resort had existed in any other place, Ramsey would have loved it. But Elliott could see in the very first hour of their arrival that Alexandria was a profound shock to him.
His vitality seemed immediately sapped. He fell quiet at tea, and excused himself to go wandering.
And that night at dinner, when the subject of Henry's abrupt departure for Cairo was raised, he was almost snappish.
"Julie Stratford's a grown woman," he said, glancing at her. "It's preposterous to think she requires the companionship of a drunken, dissolute being. Are we not, all of us, as you say, gentlemen?"
"I suppose so," Alex responded with predictable brightness. "Nevertheless he is her cousin and it was her uncle's wish--"
"Her uncle doesn't know her cousin!" Ramsey declared.
Julie cut the conversation short. "I'm glad Henry's gone. We'll join him in Cairo soon enough. And Henry in Cairo will be a cross as it is. Henry in the Valley of the Kings would be intolerable."
"Quite right." Elliott sighed. "Julie, I am your guardian now. Officially."
"Elliott, the trip is far too difficult for you. You ought to go on to Cairo and wait for us there, also."
Alex was about to protest when Elliott motioned for silence. "That's out of the question now, dearest, and you know it. Besides, I want to see Luxor again, and Abu Simbel, perhaps for the last time."
She looked at him thoughtfully. She knew that he was speaking the truth on both counts. He couldn't let her travel alone with Ramsey, no matter how much she wanted to. And he did want to see those monuments again. But she also sensed he had his own distinct priorities.
Regardless, her acceptance was quite enough for Elliott.
"And when do we go on to the Nile steamer?" Alex asked. "How much time do you need in this city, old boy?" he asked Ramsey.
"Not very much," Ramsey said dismally. "There is precious little left of the old Roman times which I hoped to see."
Ramsey, after devouring three courses without ever touching a knife or a fork, excused himself before the others had finished.
By the following afternoon, it was clear he was in a dismal state. He said almost nothing at luncheon; declined to play billiards and again went out walking. It was soon obvious that he was walking at all times of the night and day, and had left Julie entirely to Alex for the time being. Even Samir did not apparently have his confidence.
He was a man alone in the midst of a struggle.
Elliott watched all this; and then came to a decision. Through his man Walter he hired a young Egyptian boy, a hanger-on at the hotel who did nothing but continuously sweep off the red carpeted steps, to follow Ramsey. It was quite a risk. And Elliott felt ashamed. But this obsession was consuming him.
By the hour he sat in a comfortable peacock chair in the lobby reading the English papers, and watching all comings and goings. And then at odd moments, he would take reports from the Egyptian boy, who spoke tolerable English.
Ramsey walked. Ramsey stared for hours at the sea. Ramsey explored great fields beyond the city. Ramsey sat in European cafes, staring at nothing, drinking huge quantities of sweet Egyptian coffee. Ramsey had also gone to a brothel, and there he had astonished the greasy old proprietor by taking every woman in the place between sunset and sunrise. That meant twelve couplings. The old pimp had never seen anything like it.
