Tadros stopped, hesitated, and then returned. He realized that he could do nothing.
“Very well,” said he, sullenly. “She will be safer in Fedah than in Cairo. But you have been cruel, Kāra. A man who is really a man would not treat a beast as you have treated Nephthys. To teach her the splendid luxury of a palace and then thrust her back into a mud hut on the forsaken Nile bank is a positive crime! I suppose you have also taken away her fine clothes and her pretty ornaments?”
“Yes.”
“Poor child! But there—one does not argue with a snake for fear of its venom. I am likewise in your power,” said the dragoman, gloomily.
Kāra actually laughed at his rueful expression.
“You were born a fool, my Tadros,” said he, “and a fool you will die. Look you! there is no excuse in all your chatter to me of your own treachery—the crime that our customs declare merits death. You simply accuse me of harshness in sending away a faithless woman. Tell me, then, some plausible reason why I should not kill you.”
Tadros grew pale.
“There are two reasons,” he replied, seriously. “One is that murdering me would cause you to get into trouble with the police. The other is that you have need of me.”
“Very good. The first argument does not count, because you could be killed secretly, with no personal danger to me; and that, without doubt, is the manner in which I shall kill you some day. But your present safety, my Tadros, lies in your second reason. I still need your services, and will permit you to remain alive until I am quite sure to have no further use for you.”
The dragoman drew a long breath.