At the end of the month he returned to Fedah, taking his dragoman with him. Tadros went without protest, for he was making excellent profits from his old-time friend and had perfected a system of robbery that almost doubled Prince Kāra’s expenses.
They traveled by train and crossed the river in a boat, arriving in the evening at the tiny village. Tadros carried Kāra’s large traveling case and walked behind him, as was fitting in a paid retainer.
And so they entered the narrow street of the village, where all the dozen or so inhabitants stood in their doorways to stare and nod gravely at their returned fellow-citizens.
Kāra bade his dragoman leave the luggage in his own dwelling and seek a lodging for himself with old Nefert or Amenka. He then walked on to where Sĕra and her daughter awaited him.
He pinched Nephthys’ fat cheeks, felt of her round bare arms, and finally kissed her lips, declaring that she was steadily improving in condition and would put to shame many of the women of Cairo.
Nephthys allowed the caresses listlessly, her eyes only brightening slightly when the gaily dressed dragoman came near and stood watching the proceedings. He wore a green jacket with gold embroidery to-day, and the girl observed it with evident approval.
“I sold her too cheaply, Kāra,” remarked the dragoman, stroking his thin mustache reflectively.
“In that I do not agree with you,” answered Kāra.
“I will pay double the price for her return,” said Tadros.
“The girl is not for sale. And see here, my man, keep your hands off her while you are in Fedah, or I will be obliged to kill you.”