Let it come down Page 14
«Ch’andek? What’s the matter with you? What are you trying to do?» the young man was saying indignantly. «Are you ashamed of being a Moslem? It’s very bad, what you are doing. You think I don’t remember you from the Bar Lucifer? Ha! Hamqat, entina! Hamqat!» His breath smelled strongly of the brandy he had been drinking all day.
Hadija was violently indignant. «Ana hamqat?» she began, and realized too late that she had given herself away. The young man laughed delightedly, and tried to get her to go on, but she froze into absolute silence. Finally she cried out in Arabic: «You’re hurting me!» and breaking from his embrace hurried to Eunice’s side, where she stood rubbing her shoulder. «Wan fackin bastard,» she said under her breath to Eunice, who had witnessed her linguistic indiscretion and realized that as far as the young man was concerned the game was up.
«Shut up!» She seized Hadija’s arm and pulled her off into an empty corner.
«I want wan Coca-Cola,» objected Hadija. «Very hot. That lousy guy dance no good».
«Who is he, anyway?»
«Wan Moorish man live in Tangier».
«I know, but who? What’s he doing in the Beidaoui Palace?»
«He plenty drunk».
Eunice mused a moment, letting go of Hadija’s arm. With as much dignity as she could summon, she strode across the room toward Hassan Beidaoui, who, seeing her coming, turned around and managed to be talking animatedly with Mme. Werth by the time she reached him. The maneuver proved quite worthless, of course, since Eunice’s piercing «I say» began while she was still ten feet away. She tapped Hassan’s arm and he faced her patiently, prepared to listen to another series of incomprehensible reminiscences about Crown Prince Rupprecht.
«I say!» She indicated Hadija’s recent dancing partner. «I say, isn’t that the eldest son of the Pacha of Fez? I’m positive I remember him from Paris».
«No,» said Hassan quietly. «That is my brother Thami. Would you like to meet him?» (This suggestion was prompted less by a feeling of amiability toward Eunice Goode than by one of spite toward Thami, whose unexpected appearance both Hassan and Abdelmalek considered an outrage. They had suggested he leave, but being a little drunk he had only laughed. If anyone present could precipitate his departure, thought Hassan, it was this outlandish American woman.) «Will you come?» He held out his arm. Eunice reflected quickly, and said she would be delighted.
She was not surprised to find Thami exactly the sort of Arab she most disliked and habitually inveighed against: outwardly Europeanized but inwardly conscious that the desired metamorphosis would remain forever unaccomplished, and therefore defiant, on the offensive to conceal his defeat, irresponsible and insolent. For his part, Thami behaved in a particularly obnoxious fashion. He was in a foul humor, having met with no success either in attempting to get the money for the boat from his brothers, or in persuading them to agree to the sale of his house in the Marshan. And again, this hideous woman was his idea of the typical tourist who admired his race only insofar as its members were picturesque.
«You want us all to be snake-charmers and scorpion-eaters,» he raged, at one point in their conversation, which he had inevitably maneuvered in such a direction as to permit him to make his favorite accusations.
«Naturally,» Eunice replied in her most provoking manner. «It would be far preferable to being a nation of tenth-rate pseudo-civilized rug-sellers». She smiled poisonously, and then belched in his face.
At that moment Dyar came in. The candlelight seemed bright to him and he blinked his eyes. Seeing Thami in the center of the room, he looked surprised for an instant, and then went up to him and greeted him warmly. Without seeming to see Eunice, he took him by the arm and led him aside. «I want to settle my little debt with you, from the other night».
«Oh, that’s all right,» said Thami, looking at him expectantly. And as the money changed hands, Thami said: «She’s here. You have seen her?»
«Yeah, sure».
«You brought her?»
«No. Miss Goode over there». Dyar jerked his chin in her direction, and Thami fell to thinking.
From where she stood Eunice watched them, saw Dyar slip some notes into Thami’s hand, and guessed correctly that Thami had been the friend who had lent him the money to pay Hadija at the Bar Lucifer. It was the realization of her worst fears, and in her present unbalanced state she built it up into a towering nightmare. The two men held her entire future happiness in their hands. If anyone had observed her face closely at that moment, he would unhesitatingly have declared her mad, and he would probably have moved quickly away from her. It had suddenly flashed upon her, the realization of how supremely happy she had been at the Beidaouis’ this evening — at least, it seemed so to her now. Hadija belonged completely to her, she had been accepted, was even having a small success at the moment as Miss Kumari, chatting in monosyllables with Dr. Waterman in a corner. But Miss Kumari’s feet were planted at the edge of a precipice, and it required the merest push from either of the two men there (she clenched her fists) to topple her over the brink. The American was the more dangerous, however, and she already had set in motion the apparatus that was destined to get rid of him. «It can’t fail,» she thought desperately. But of course it could fail. There was no particular reason to believe that he would keep the appointment so clumsily arranged by Mme. Jouvenon for tomorrow, nor were there any grounds for confidence in her ability to make matters go as they were supposed to go. She opened her mouth wide and after some difficulty belched again. The room was going away from her; she felt it draining off into darkness. Making a tremendous effort, she prevented herself from tipping sideways toward the floor, and took a few steps forward, perhaps with the intention of speaking to Dyar. But the effort was too much. Her final remaining energy was used in reaching a nearby empty chair; she slid into it and lost consciousness.
Daisy had joined Dyar, without, however, paying any notice to Thami, who unobtrusively walked away. «Good God!» she cried, seeing Eunice’s collapse. «That’s a lovely sight. I don’t intend to be delegated to carry it home, though, which is exactly what will happen unless I leave». She paused, and seemed to be changing her mind. «No! Her little Greek friend can just call for a taxi and the servants can dump her in. I’m damned if I’ll play chauffeur to Uncle Goode, and I’m damned if I’ll go home to keep from doing it, either. Hassan — aren’t they both swreet? don’t you love them?» — Dyar assented. — «He’s offered to show us the great room, and that doesn’t happen every day. I’ve seen it only once, and I’m longing to see it again. So there’s going to be no victim here, making a Red Cross ambulance out of the car, and going up that fiendish narrow street to the Metropole. God!» She paused, then went on. «They’re not ready to take us yet. They want to wait till a few more people have left. But I must talk to you before you disappear again. I saw you run out, darling. You’ve got to stop acting like a pariah. Come over here and sit down. I’ve got two things to say to you, and both are important, and not very pleasant».
«What do you mean?»
«Just let me do the talking, and listen». They sat down on the same divan where they had been sitting a half hour ago. The fresh air had made him feel better, and he had decided not to take any more whiskey. She laid her hand on his arm; the diamonds of her bracelets shone in the candlelight. «I’m practically certain Jack Wilcox is about to get himself into trouble. It seems most suspicious, the fact that he’s keeping you out of his office. The moment you told me that, I knew something peculiar was going on. He’s always been an ass in his business dealings, and he’s no less of one now. By ass I mean stupidly careless. God, the idiots and scoundrels he’s taken into his confidence! You know, everyone here’s got some little pecadillo he’s hoping to hide. You know, ça va sans dire. Everyone has to make a living, and here no one asks questions. But Jack practically advertises his business indiscretions. He can’t make a move now without the entire scum of the Zone knowing about it. Which would be all right if there were any protec
tion, which obviously there can’t be in such cases. You just have to take your chances».
Dyar was listening, but at the same time he was uneasily watching the other end of the room where he had observed Hadija and Thami engaged in what appeared to be an intense and very private conversation. «What are you talking about?» he demanded rudely, turning suddenly to stare at her.
Daisy misinterpreted his question. «My dear, certainly no one but an imbecile would think of trying to enlist the help of the Police in such matters. I love Jack; I think he’s a dear. But I certainly think you should be warned. Don’t get involved in any of his easy-money schemes. They crack up. There are plenty of ways of making a living here, and quite as easy, without risking getting stabbed or shot».
Now Dyar looked at her squarely and laughed.
«I know I’m drunk,» she said. «But I also know what I’m saying. I can see you’re going to laugh even more at the other thing I’ve got to tell you». Dyar cast a troubled glance behind him at Hadija and Thami.
Daisy’s voice was suddenly slightly harsh. «Oh, stop breaking your neck. He’s not going to run off with your girlfriend».
Dyar turned his head back swiftly and faced her, his mouth open a little with astonishment. «What?»
She laughed. «Why are you so surprised? I told you everyone knows everything here. What do you think I have a good pair of Zeiss field-glasses in my bedroom for, darling? You didn’t know I had such a thing? Well, I have, and they were in use today. There’s a short stretch of shore-line visible from one corner of the room. But that’s not what I was going to tell you,» she went on, as Dyar, trying to picture to himself just what incidents of his outing she might have seen, felt his face growing hot. «I’d like to sock her in that smug face,» he thought, but she caught the unspoken phrase. «You’re angry with me, darling, aren’t you?» He said nothing. «I don’t blame you. It was a low thing to do, but I’m making amends for it now by giving you some very valuable advice». She began to speak more slowly and impressively. «Madame Jouvenon, that frightful little woman you went off into the other room with, is a Russian agent. A spy, if you like the word better». She sat back and squinted at him, as if to measure the effect of that piece of news.
It seemed to have brought him around to a better humor, for he chuckled, took her hand and smoothed the fingers slowly; she made no effort to withdraw it. «At least,» she continued, «I’ve heard it from two distinct sources, neither of which I have any reason to doubt. Of course, it’s a perfectly honorable way of making a living, and we all have our agents around, and I daresay she’s not even a particularly efficient one, but there you are. So those are my two little warnings for tonight, my dear young man, and you can take them or leave them, whichever you like». She pulled her hand away to smooth her hair. «I shouldn’t have told you, really. God knows how much of a chatterbox you are. But if you quote me I shall deny ever having said a word».
«I’ll bet you would. And the same goes for the room in Marrakech. Right?»
She took the tip of one of his fingers between her thumb and forefinger, squeezed it hard, and looked at him seriously a moment before she said: «I suppose you think that was immoral».
The company was thinning; people were leaving now in groups. Abdelmalek and Hassan Beidaoui stood one on each side of the door, bowing and smiling. There were not more than ten guests left, including the Hollands, who had found an old swing record in the pile, and were now doing some very serious jitterbugging, alone on the floor. One of the two Arab gentlemen stood watching them, an expression of satisfaction on his face, as though at last he were seeing what he had come here to see.
Thami and Hadija still conversed, but the important points in their talk had all been touched upon, with the result that Thami now suspected that the money for his boat might conceivably be donated by Eunice Goode. Many members of the lower stratum of society in Tangier naturally knew perfectly well who Hadija was, but there was next to no contact between that world of cast-off clothing, five-peseta cognac and cafés whose patrons sat on mats smoking kif and playing ronda, and this other more innocent world up here in which it was only one step from wanting a thing to having it. Nevertheless, he knew both worlds; he was the point of contact. It was a privileged position and he felt it could be put to serious use. Nothing of all this had been said to Hadija; encouraged by him she had told all the important facts. No Arab is foolish enough to let another Arab know that both are stalking the same prey — after all, there is only a limited amount of flesh on any given carcass. And while the tentative maximum set by Thami was only whatever the price of the boat should finally turn out to be, still, he knew that Hadija would consider as her rightful property every peseta that went to him. Like most girls with her training, basically Hadija thought only in terms of goods delivered and payment received; it did not occur to her that often the largest sums go to those who agree to do nothing more than stay out of the way. This is not to say that she was unaware of the position of power enjoyed by Thami in the present situation. «You won’t say a word?» she whispered anxiously.
«We’re friends. More than friends,» he assured her, looking steadily into her eyes. «Like brother and sister. And Muslimin, both of us. How could I betray my sister?»
She was satisfied. But he continued. «And tonight, what are you doing?» She knew what that meant. If it had to be, there was nothing to do about it, and tonight was the most likely time, with Eunice in her present state. Hadija glanced across at the massive body sprawled on the chair.
«Call a taxi,» went on Thami. «Get the servants to put her in. Take her home and see that she’s in bed. Meet me outside the Wedad pastry shop in the dark part there at the foot of the steps to the garden. I’ll be there before you, so you won’t have to wait».
«Ouakha,» she agreed. She was going to get nothing for it, yet it had to be done. To remain Miss Kumari she must go back and be the Hadija of the pink room behind the Bar Lucifer. She looked at him with undissimulated hatred. He saw it and laughed; it made her more desirable.
«Little sister,» he murmured, his lips so close to the lobe of her ear that they brushed it softly in forming the word.
She got up. Save for Eunice they were alone in the room. The remaining guests had gone out, were being taken through the blue court, the jasmine court, the marble pavilion, to the vast, partially ruined ballroom where several sultans had dined. But Hadija was too much perturbed to notice that she had not been invited to make the tour along with the others.
«You call a taxi. The telephone is in there». He indicated the little library. «I’ll take care of her». He went out to the entrance lodge and got two of the guards to come in and carry Eunice to the gate, where they laid her on a mat along one of the niches until the cab arrived. He sat in front with the driver and went along as far as Bou Arakía, where he got out and after saying a word through the open window to Hadija, walked off into the dark in the direction of the Zoco de Fuera.
The European guests were not taken back into the European wing; Abdelmalek and Hassan led them directly to the gate on the street, bade them a gracious good-bye, and stepped behind the high portals which were closed and noisily bolted. It was a little like the expulsion from Eden, thought Daisy, and she turned and grinned at the Hollands.
«May I drive you to your hotel?» she offered.
They protested that it was nearby, but Daisy snorted with impatience. She knew she was going to take them home, and she wanted to start. «Get in,» she said gruffly. «It’s a mile at least to the Pension Acacias».
The final good nights were called as the other guests drove off.
«But it’s out of your way,» objected Richard Holland.
«Stuff and nonsense! Get in! How do you know where I’m going? I’ve got to meet Luis more or less in that neighborhood».
«Sh! What’s that?» Mrs. Holland held up a silencing finger. From somewhere in the dark on the other side of the street came a faint chorus of high, piercing mews.
«The poor things!» cried Mrs. Holland, starting across the pavement toward the sound.
«Come back here!» shouted her husband. «Where do you think you’re going?»
She hesitated. Daisy had got into the car, and sat at the wheel.
«I’m afraid it’s hopeless, darling,» she said to Mrs. Holland.
«Come on!» Holland called. Reluctantly she returned and got in. When she was beside him in the back seat he said: «What did you think you were going to do?»
She sounded vague. «I don’t know. I thought we might take them somewhere and give them some milk». The car started up, skirting the wall for a moment and then turning through a park of high eucalyptus trees.
Dyar, sitting in front with Daisy, and infinitely thankful to be out of the Beidaoui residence, felt pleasantly relaxed. He had been listening to the little scene with detached interest, rather as if it were part of a radio program, and he expected now to hear an objection from Holland based on grounds of practicality. Instead he heard him say: «Why in hell try to keep them alive? They’re going to die anyway, sooner or later».
Dyar turned his head sideways and shouted against the trees going by: «So are you, Holland. But in the meantime you eat, don’t you?»
There was no reply. In the back, unprotected from the wet sea wind, the Hollands were shivering.