“Then shall it be between us twain,” said High, and laid his hot palm against the cold, snaky palm of the other. “And he to whom the honour falls shall help the other.”
“Aiwa, but it shall be so,” answered Achmet, and then they spoke in lower tones still, their eyes on the curtain behind which Harrik prayed.
Presently Harrik entered, impassive, yet alert, his slight, handsome figure in sharp contrast to the men lounging in the cushions before him, who salaamed as he came forward. The features were finely chiselled, the forehead white and high, the lips sensuous, the eyes fanatical, the look concentrated yet abstracted. He took a seat among the cushions, and, after a moment, said to Achmet, in a voice abnormally deep and powerful: “Diaz—there is no doubt of Diaz?”
“He awaits the signal. The hawk flies not swifter than Diaz will act.”
“The people—the bazaars—the markets?”
“As the air stirs a moment before the hurricane comes, so the whisper has stirred them. From one lip to another, from one street to another, from one quarter to another, the word has been passed—‘Nahoum was a Christian, but Nahoum was an Egyptian whose heart was Muslim. The stranger is a Christian and an Inglesi. Reason has fled from the Prince Pasha, the Inglesi has bewitched him. But the hour of deliverance draweth nigh. Be ready! To-night!’ So has the whisper gone.”
Harrik’s eyes burned. “God is great,” he said. “The time has come. The Christians spoil us. From France, from England, from Austria—it is enough. Kaid has handed us over to the Greek usurers, the Inglesi and the Frank are everywhere. And now this new-comer who would rule Kaid, and lay his hand upon Egypt like Joseph of old, and bring back Nahoum, to the shame of every Muslim—behold, the spark is to the tinder, it shall burn.”
“And the hour, Effendina?”
“At midnight. The guns to be trained on the Citadel, the Palace surrounded. Kaid’s Nubians?”
“A hundred will be there, Effendina, the rest a mile away at their barracks.” Achmet rubbed his cold palms together in satisfaction.