“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 stories, eh?”
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.