Free Re-enter Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer Page A

shower.
    While he drank his coffee and enjoyed the first cigarette, he called Zoe. She answered at once, and he thought her voice sounded rather listless.
    “You were out disgracefully late,” he told her with mock severity.
    He heard her laugh. “It is true, Brian. But it was not the gay time you think. There is so much family trouble to talk about. My poor Aunt Isobel, my father’s sister, has been very ill. She cannot have me yet at Luxor, although she is getting better. I told you last night that I am to stay here a while. Are you glad?”
    “Of course I’m glad, dear! Very glad. Listen. Are you free for lunch? Because I want you to lunch with me at Mena House and then go and explore the Great Pyramid. O.K.?”
    “O.K., Brian! When shall I be ready?”
    “Is eleven-thirty too early?”
    “No. Downstairs at eleven-thirty.”
    And at eleven-thirty Zoe came down to the lounge wearing a cream dress that left her arms and shoulders bare. They were slightly sun-tanned. A large sun hat shaded her face, and she looked even more lovely than usual.
    The drive out to Gizeh was all too short. He held her close in the near privacy of the cab, and this morning, for some mysterious reason, Zoe thrilled him in a new way.
    They had some drinks in the Mena House bar and then went in to a cold luncheon. Afterwards they took their coffee out in the garden, choosing a shady table near the flower-draped wall overlooking the road.
    Zoe became strangely pensive. Several times Brian caught her glancing at him furtively, as if wanting to tell him something that she hesitated to put into words.
    “Zoe,” he said uneasily, “Something’s bothering you. Tell me what it is.”
    Still she hesitated, glancing around as if she was afraid of being overheard. Brian reached across and took both of her hands. “Tell me, Zoe. What is it?”
    “It is something very, very hard to say, Brian.”
    He had an uneasy moment. “You don’t mean—you don’t want to see me any more?”
    She shook her head. “It is not as you think, Brian. I want to see you always. It is that I have to ask you something that breaks my heart, but for
your
sake I must ask.”
    Brian became really alarmed by her earnestness. Her wonderful eyes were so bright that he knew tears were not far away. “Whatever do you mean, dear?”
    “I mean—” she paused, as if seeking the right words. “I mean that, although it will be terrible for me if—someone—finds out what I have done, I
must
warn you, Brian. You are in very, very great danger. Soon it will be too late; I hate to say it, but, please—oh, please!—leave Cairo at once. Tonight, if you can.”
    This incomprehensible request so completely baffled Brian that for some moments he could think of no reply. Part of his dream had come true. Zoe had turned her eyes aside, but tears were gathering on her long, dark lashes; her hands, which he held tightly, were shaking.
    He wondered if she had seen Nayland Smith since he had seen him, if it could be something Sir Denis had told her that accounted for her present state of mind. Then it occurred to him that it was odd she hadn’t asked him about Sir Denis’ visit, for he remembered telling her he expected him. He wasn’t dreaming now, yet all this had happened before.
    “This would mean—if I did it—that we shouldn’t see each other again?” He spoke in a toneless voice, trying to think.
    Zoe didn’t answer. She suddenly dragged her hands away. Her eyes were wide with terror. She pointed to the low wall beside which they sat “Brian!” she whispered. “Down there—I heard someone move!”
    Brian sprang up. He leaned over the wall and looked down. Zoe was right.
    A ragged old mendicant sat on the dusty road, his back propped against the wall, immediately below their table.
    “Hi, you! What are you doing down there?” Brian shouted.
    A skinny, dirty hand was stretched out. “
Bakshîsh—bakshîsh!
”
    Brian caught his breath. He leaned farther over. “Let