The Pasha sat and pondered the matter deeply, while his mother went on to declare that the Frangi woman had ruined Azim Bey. She had made him into an Englishman, and there was nothing of a Turk left about him. Thus she ran on, with great richness of language and illustration, while the Pasha slowly made up his mind. It was no sentiment of chivalry for a woman fighting the battle of life alone in a foreign country that influenced him finally, but rather a prudent feeling of reluctance to part with a valuable dependent as the price of a reconciliation which could not, in all probability, last more than a month. Then there was the matter of economy. To escape the necessity of paying the bonus would certainly be a saving, but would it be possible to get up an accusation of misconduct which could really be sustained? He had a very clear impression, springing from what he knew of the absolute blamelessness of Cecil’s behaviour during her life in the harem, that it would not. To bring such an accusation, and then to fail to substantiate it, would be nothing short of ruinous. He thought apprehensively of the Courts, of the impression in England, where he desired to stand well in public opinion, and he thought above all things of the Balio Bey. Sir Dugald was certainly given to counselling economy, but it was scarcely to be expected that he would approve this particular way of exercising it, while he would be certain to resent fiercely any charge made against Mdlle. Antaza, an Englishwoman and his wife’s friend, and when he was officially angry he could be very terrible indeed. It was this thought which decided the Pasha at last. He could not face the Balio Bey in such a case, with the knowledge of a trumped-up slander on his conscience, and he felt shrewdly that in maintaining his position and carrying on his Government Sir Dugald’s countenance and approval was of more vital consequence than his mother’s. This he told her, as delicately as he could, and then quitted her presence, after a few vain attempts to soften her resentment, which was loud and voluble. Had he guessed what her next step would be, it is possible that he might have yielded abjectly even then, but he departed unconscious of what was in store for him in the immediate future.
It would, indeed, have taken a shrewd observer of human nature to forecast the Um-ul-Pasha’s next move. Having failed to secure her end, she wasted no time in negotiations, but threw herself into the arms, figuratively speaking, of Jamileh Khanum, with whom she had been at daggers drawn ever since the young wife had entered the harem. Angry with her husband and jealous for her boy, Jamileh Khanum displayed no inclination to stand upon ceremony when she saw the prospect of gaining such a powerful ally, and the reconciliation was sealed over the sleeping form of little Najib Bey, upon whom his grandmother lavished all the vituperative epithets that occurred to her, for the purpose of averting the evil-eye. Before the evening of that day mother and grandmother had united in a league against Azim Bey. The son of the Hajar woman was to be displaced at any cost, and before another day was over, M. Karalampi had been informed that his services were retained on behalf of this new claimant to the rights of Hussein Bey.
Unfortunately, from the ladies’ point of view, the negotiations which had so nearly been crowned with success in the former case had been allowed entirely to fall through, and a change in the Padishah’s entourage had removed the persons on whose help M. Karalampi had relied. It was necessary to begin the work all over again, and to set about it in a different way, but M. Karalampi still contrived to keep himself in the background, while all that the distracted Pasha knew was that his mother and his favourite wife were now bosom friends, and that this boded mischief to his elder son. He could act decisively enough, however, when the issue was a clear one, and he took his measures at once. Azim Bey should accompany him on the progress he was about to make through the country inhabited by the Kurdish tribes, in order to keep him out of harm’s way, and Jamileh Khanum should come also, that she and the Um-ul-Pasha might not have the opportunity of weaving their plots together in his absence. The plan was no sooner decided upon than it was put into execution. As before, Cecil and Azim Bey, with their attendants, received orders to start first, spending a few days at Said Bey’s house at Hillah, where the Pasha’s great cavalcade would pick them up.
Cecil heard this news with dismay. It seemed to her that everything depended upon her being at Baghdad, in case Charlie really carried out his foolhardy plan, for if she saw him she might succeed in turning him back at the threshold of his adventure. But Lady Haigh, who knew that the last two summers in Baghdad had tried her very much, was delighted that this one should be passed in the cooler atmosphere of the Kurdish uplands, and commended the Pasha’s wisdom. Cecil said nothing to her of the reason she had for wishing to remain in the city. On the one side was the possibility of endangering Charlie by attracting attention to him should he really enter the country; on the other, the fear of lowering him in Sir Dugald’s eyes by revealing the foolishness to which the Balio Bey would grant no quarter. In spite of his kindness, Cecil resented extremely the contemptuous light in which Sir Dugald continued to regard Charlie, and she was resolved not to give him the chance of thinking him more reckless than he was, in case he decided to forego his scheme.
“I suppose it isn’t possible for a European traveller to come into the pashalik without your knowing it?” she said to Sir Dugald the evening before her departure, with a desire to make everything sure.
“Scarcely,” said Sir Dugald. “They seem invariably to begin their wanderings by getting into trouble with the Turks, and then they write to me to help them out. No vice-consul will do for them, however near at hand—it must be the Consul-General or no one.”
“But suppose they didn’t wish to make themselves prominent, and managed not to get into trouble—in fact, came into the country quite quietly, and did their best to remain unnoticed?”
“Then I should hear of them rather sooner than in the other case,” said Sir Dugald. “English travellers who didn’t bluster or bully the natives would be such a phenomenon that both the Pasha and I should be simply inundated with full, true, and particular accounts of them. It would be evident to the Turkish mind that they were come for no good, and were probably either spies or on the look-out for hidden treasures.”
“But if they were in disguise?” suggested Cecil, bringing forward reluctantly her true fear. Sir Dugald laughed heartily.
“That would be the quickest thing of all,” he said. “An Englishman trying to pass for a native would be spotted immediately. I have known of several cases, and the people take a perverse delight in finding them out. In fact, it’s an infallible means of proclaiming your nationality and attracting attention to pretend to be an oriental. If a man is such a fool as to try it, every person he meets becomes a spy on him at once. It’s natural, of course, for they are afraid he might try to profane their holy places.”