The Palace of Darkened Windows by Mary Hastings Bradley


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Page 22

"Oh, I understand, but I can take care of myself!" Across her
pleading flashed the ironic thought of how excellently she had taken
care of herself in coming there that very afternoon! "Just let me
get over that wall and I can find my way--and if you cannot bribe
the man we can wait till it is darker and then, when he is at the
other end, why I can be down and off in a jiffy!"

"He would shoot," said the Captain. "He has his order. I have talked
with them.... And what would the authorities say when they send here
the doctor to-morrow and you are gone?"

"Say--say--Oh, what does it matter what they say? Tell them that I
ran away without your knowledge. Surely----"

"But your name has been given as detained. They would not let you
reappear in the world----"

"You leave that to me! I know it would be all right--once I was
there. Please do this for me, Captain Kerissen--_please_! I know
that in a great palace like this there must be many, many ways where
one could slip into the streets----"

"In all this palace there are but three doors--the door in the
vestibule by which you entered, the great door to its right, under
the arch into the court, and the little door from the garden to the
canal." He waved his cigarette at the wall ahead of them, towards
which they were slowly walking. "And all those three doors are
barred upon the outside and there is a soldier before each one--and
the soldier that you saw within the vestibule, watching us there."

"But--but the windows." She remembered the _mashrubiyeh_, but went
on resolutely, "I mean, the windows on the men's side. Aren't there
any windows in that part which are open?"

"The _selamlik_ is a short wing and looks into the court." A note of
impatience sounded in his voice. He tossed away his cigarette which
fell, a burning spark, in the shadows. Already, as they talked, it
had grown darker, and the impatient tropic night was stealing on
them. "It is no use," he repeated. "There is no way out for you--or
any of us."

Into her heart stole the unthinkable perception that he did not want
to help her--he was afraid of the authorities--or else--or
else--Desperately she returned to the appeal.

"But do let me try to get over that wall. I will watch for the
soldier--I will take the responsibility. Please, now--let us plan
that attempt."

His answer held a quiet finality. "It is impossible.... And the wall
is too high for such little feet."

The startled color flashed into her cheeks. Only Oriental language
of course.... Perhaps she was unduly sensitive to any hint of
familiarity in her predicament.

"I could manage it perfectly," she said with coldness.

He bent over her, as they walked. "Are you so unhappy here?"

"Of course I am unhappy," she gave back with a clear
matter-of-factness that strove to ignore the sudden softening of his
voice. "I am _very_ unhappy. I realize that I should not be here,
that I am intruding upon your hospitality----"

"You are making me most happy."

"And I am making my friends most anxious and losing my trip on the
Nile."

"The Nile," he said, "flows on forever. Who knows how soon you will
see it and under what happier circumstances?"

"Our boat was to sail at ten. I simply must find a way out
to-night----"

"That is impossible." He spoke with sudden irritation, which he
softened the next instant, with a light laugh. "You Americans--how
you hurry!... Tell me--have you no heart for all this?"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 7th Feb 2025, 21:22