"If you will send it to the Hotel Semiramis this afternoon...." But she faltered at the sight of the merchant's incredulous smile.
"I'll give you ten for it; not a piastre more. I can get one like it in the Shâriâ Kâmel for that amount."
Both Fortune and the merchant turned.
"You, Horace?"
"Yes, my child. And what are you doing here alone, without a dragoman?"
"Oh, I have been through here alone many times. I'm not afraid. Isn't it beautiful? He wants twenty pounds for it, and I can not afford that."
She had not seen him in many weeks, yet she accepted his sudden appearance without question or surprise. She was used to his turning up at unexpected moments. Of course, she had known that he was in Cairo: where her mother and uncle were this secretive man was generally within calling. There had been a time when she had eagerly plied him with questions, but he had always erected barriers of evasion, and finally she ceased her importunities, for she concluded that her questions were such. No matter to whom she turned, there was no one to answer her questions, questions born of doubt and fear.
"Ten pounds," repeated Ryanne, a hand in his pocket.
