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He nodded. ‘Yes.’
I waited. Nothing came. I wasn’t going to be content with that! For once, he was semi-talking about himself. That was a chance that had to be exploited!
‘Well?’ I demanded.
‘Well what?’
I glared at him. ‘Well, what is it? What do you not own a factory for?’
He considered this for a moment. ‘Potatoes,’ he decided, finally.
‘Potatoes are vegetables! They aren’t produced in factories!’
‘That would explain why I haven’t got one.’
All right. Maybe I had been wrong about his being willing to talk. I chose not to dignify his last remark with a response. If I wanted to probe him further, better to wait until the desert sun had thawed him a little, if it was able to manage that.
‘Since we are on the subject of purchases…’ A muscle in his jaw twitched reluctantly, and he glanced at me.
Can it be…?
Mr Ambrose pulled two more banknotes out of his pocket and handed them to me.
Yes! Yes, a miracle!
‘I suppose you cannot very well ride on a camel in a dress. Purchase something more appropriate to wear.’
My lips twitched. ‘Appropriate being a synonym for cheap?’
‘Keep up this level of insight, and you might just keep your job.’
Curtsying, I took the notes from him. ‘Always a pleasure to spend your money, Sir.’
His eyes flashed. ‘Or maybe you won’t keep it after al-’
Before he could finish, I had whirled and vanished into the crowd, two bodyguards trailing after me and a wide grin on my face.
*~*~**~*~*
Slowly strolling down the row of booths, I eyed each one closely. Many sold some kind of article of clothing, but I didn’t really see anything that screamed ‘Me!’. Then again, I couldn’t expect any pirate costumes or parasols with spikes at the end at an Egyptian bazaar, could I? Not at any kind of bazaar, truth be told.
Wandering away from the booths selling clothes, I ambled towards the ones displaying rows of knives and other glittering instruments of death and destruction. Now, those appealed far more to me than the thought of buying a pair of trousers. Mr Ambrose had said he had plenty of weapons already, but I wasn’t sure whether I would be given one, considering the fact of my femaleness.
Hm… maybe if I showed up in a suitably masculine set of trousers, he would at least let me have a small knife…
‘Miss Linton!’
At the sound of that voice, I whirled around even faster than my two bodyguards.
Crap, crap, crap! Not he! Not here! Not again!
But all my silent protests went in vain. There he was: Captain James Carter, tall, red-coated and just as handsome as usual - but not as well in control of himself. His face was deathly pale under his tan, and his mouth was standing open as he stared at me. What was the matter with him?
He took an involuntary step forward. ‘Good God! Is it really you?’
I shook my head, pointing upwards. ‘Sorry, no. He lives up there.’
‘Bloody hell, it is you! Only you would think of making a joke at a time like this!’
