“No, mademoiselle, it is policy,” said Azim Bey, unabashed.
And the dictates of policy were followed in the investigation which succeeded. No one who heard of the matter doubted for an instant that the Um-ul-Pasha had planned the murder of her younger grandson in the interests of Hussein Bey, but all Ahmed Khémi Pasha’s efforts were directed to prevent the slightest whisper being breathed against his mother. He guarded with the utmost loyalty the good name which she had perilled so rashly, and succeeded in preventing any open declaration of the truth. Zubeydeh Kalfa was got rid of by being married to a former pipe-bearer of the Pasha’s, who was going to live in Mosul, a town which has a Pasha of its own, and where gossip concerning the Palace harem at Baghdad would therefore be at a discount. Salimeh disappeared. Cecil was left in doubt as to her fate, and could never discover what had become of her. All that Azim Bey would say when questioned was that she had gone to a far country, but whether she had been put to death, or disposed of in the same way that Zubeydeh Kalfa had been, Cecil never knew. Masûd and the women-servants who had seen and heard what had happened received handsome presents to induce them to keep the matter quiet, and Cecil was astonished by the gift of a gold watch of abnormal size, with a richly jewelled case and a massive chain. Its value was considerable, and she exhibited it at the Residency with surprise and delight, until Lady Haigh told her that it was intended as a bribe to make her hold her tongue. She was horrified at this, and wished to return it to the Pasha at once, but Lady Haigh objected.
“You don’t intend to publish abroad your belief that the Um-ul-Pasha tried to poison you and Azim Bey, I suppose?” she said; “so why not keep the watch, if you are going to earn it?”
“But the Pasha will think that I am silent on account of his having given it to me,” said Cecil.
“Of course he will, my dear; and if you give it back, he will take it as a sign that it is not valuable enough, and he will go on piling up his bribes, but he will never understand your scruples. Orientals don’t indulge in such luxuries, and why should you not let the poor man have the happy feeling that your silence is secured, since it is so after all?”
Cecil was silenced, but not convinced, and put the watch by, for her pleasure in it was spoilt. Presently she had to encounter another argument from Charlie Egerton, to whom the news of the attempted murder had filtered through the gossip of the servants and the streets. He was horrified to learn the danger she had been in, and urgently desirous that she should at once quit the Palace and take refuge at the Residency. To his great concern, Cecil refused to do anything of the kind. It was true that she had felt nervous and unstrung for a few days after the shock of the sudden danger and escape, but since then she had pulled herself together and looked the situation boldly in the face. She was ashamed of the hasty impulse which had seized her to seek refuge in flight, and determined to remain at the post of duty. Hence, when Charlie attacked her, he found her armed at all points.
“It isn’t right,” he said, vehemently. “You are in constant danger. They may catch you off your guard at any moment, and there you are, alone in that great place, with traitors all round you.”
“I am not afraid,” said Cecil. “Don’t you know that ‘each man’s immortal till his work is done’? My work certainly lies at the Palace, and while I can, I hope to do it.”
“That would be a poor consolation if you and your work both ended together,” said Charlie, bitterly, too much in earnest to pick his phrases.
“Why?” said Cecil. “We know that I shan’t die so long as there is any work at all left for me to do, so that if I am killed it must mean that my work is done.”