elizabethpeters.thegoldenone-第65部分
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〃Faugh；〃 said Sahin Pasha； wrinkling his nose。 〃It's even worse than I remembered。 This house is a temporary loan； from a colleague of mine； my own prisons are more civilized。 I will return in the morning to see if you have changed your mind。〃
He drew his elegant robes tightly about him so they wouldn't touch the filthy wall and backed away。 The door slammed shut。 The hinges creaked horribly。 They would； of course。
Ramses sat with his head bowed； breathing steadily and slowly； hoping he wasn't going to be sick。 Gradually he got his stomach under control and strength began to return to his limbs。 Cautiously he tested the fetters。 The iron cuffs had simply snapped into place； they could probably be opened without a key； but his hands were a yard apart and each chain was less than six inches long。 He entertained himself for a while banging and rubbing the cuffs against the stone wall but succeeded only in scraping his knuckles。
He leaned back； overing an instinctive reluctance to touch the slimy stone of the wall。 His mother would have added several other adjectives … hard； cold； wet； dank； crawling with curious insects that were gathering to investigate a new source of nourishment。 A few of them had already found his feet。 He smiled wryly。 His mother would also inform him； in that brisk way of hers； that he'd got himself into a pretty mess this time。 No weapons； no useful tools concealed in his boots or clothing。 They had even found the needle…thin knife he'd hidden under a dirty bandage wrapped round his forearm。 And all for nothing。 He was no wiser about the identity of 〃the holy infidel。〃
He closed his eyes and summoned up the image of that bearded face and arrogant nose。 He had a good visual memory； but he hadn't seen enough for a positive identification。 Remembering the innumerable times he had failed to recognize his exasperating uncle； he had known a single glance wouldn't be enough。 He had counted on being able to observe Ismail longer； watching for a familiar gesture or movement； hearing his voice。 The man had been closely guarded； but it might have been a guard of honor。 Sahin hadn't actually confirmed or denied anything； he had only made a few ambiguous references to turncoats。
It had been a restless night and a tiring day。 He fell into a waking doze； jerked upright by the pressure of the shackles against his scraped hands whenever deeper sleep loosened his muscles。 Dream images floated through his mind： Nefret； first and last and always； her blue eyes tender with concern or blazing with fury … at him； for being stupid enough to fall into this trap。 It had been a trap； he had been lied to； used； cold…bloodedly； for the sole purpose of getting that innocent…looking assassin into Gaza。 Cartright and his superiors must have known there was a good chance both of them would be caught or killed if Chetwode carried out his orders 。 。 。 The trap； a cage as big as a drawing room； swathed in folds of golden silk that didn't quite conceal the rusty bars； soft cushions under him； and a girl in his arms； a girl with long black hair that snaked round his hands； and tightened and hardened into fetters。
When he opened his eyes； he thought for a moment he must still be dreaming。 The face close to his was a disconcerting blend of Sahin's strong features and the round…cheeked houri who had nestled in his embrace。 But the pain in his hands was real； and so was the pocket torch whose beam wavered wildly before she put it down on the bench beside him。 He sat up straighter and started to speak。 She put her hand over his lips。
〃Don't speak； don't cry out；〃 she whispered in English。 〃I will help you escape。〃
Her hand was soft and plump and perfumed。 Her hair was black； it had been twisted into a knot； but long strands had escaped to hang limply over her forehead。 Her nose was her father's； large and curved； and her mouth was the same shape； though it was now tremulous and； he noticed； carefully painted。 There could be no doubt of her identity。 Was this another trick of Sahin's … a version of cat and mouse； raising hopes of escape before dashing them； with his daughter as the very visible alternative to re…imprisonment？
Her palm and fingers slid slowly across his mouth。 〃Why？〃 he asked softly。
〃Don't ask questions！〃 Her voice was thin with nervousness。 She straightened； and he saw she was wearing the enveloping black tob over a rather frivolous pink frock of European style。
It took her a while to open the manacles。 Under the perfume that wafted round her； Ramses could sense the fear that made her hands shake and soaked her with sweat。
The iron circles finally parted。 He had lost all track of time in the eternal darkness； but he must have been there for hours。 Slowly he lowered his aching arms and flexed his hands。 She was kneeling； working at the chain around his feet。 He bent over and pushed her hands away。 〃I'll do it。 Hold the torch。 How do they work？〃
〃You have to push 。 。 。 here 。 。 。〃 A shaking finger indicated the spot。 〃And pull this at the same time。 They're rusty； stiff 。 。 。〃
The chains clinked and he swore under his breath。 They were making too much noise and taking too much time。 It was too damned quiet。 Hadn't Sahin left a guard？ Maybe it wasn't a trick after all。 If her father had set it up； she was putting on a very convincing show of fear。 As soon as he stood； she thrust a bundle at him。
〃Put it on。 Hurry！〃
The caftan was probably one of Sahin's。 It was of fine wool and far too costly for someone who wanted to be inconspicuous； but since he had no choice in the matter； he put it on； and wound the woolen scarf over his head and face。 The last item in the bundle was a knife。 She'd thought of everything … except a belt。 He slashed a strip off the bottom of the caftan； tied it round his waist； and slipped the knife through the makeshift sash。
She let him precede her to the door but stayed so close behind him he could hear her agitated breathing。 She'd left the door ajar。 Ramses swept the torch in a hasty circuit； half expecting to see Sahin's grin and a heavily armed guard； but the corridor was empty。
〃That way。〃 She extended a shaking arm over his shoulder。
〃I know。 Is there anyone in the other cells？〃
〃What does it matter？ Hurry！〃
She pushed at him； but he stood firm。 〃Is there？〃
〃No！〃
The light of the torch showed that the doors were not barred or bolted； but he couldn't leave without making certain。 He eased them open； one after the other； just far enough to look inside。 Despite his care； the hinges gave off a series of groans； echoed； on a higher note； by the girl。 She tugged at his arm。
Ramses let himself be drawn away。 The cells had been unoccupied except by a family of rats that had set up housekeeping in a pile of moldy straw。 She led the way now； tiptoeing； her black skirts raised。 Ramses followed her up the stone steps and through a mazelike series of narrow passages and small storerooms。 She certainly knew her way around the cellars。 He doubted very much that she had explored them herself。
But they had met no one and seen no one when she finally stopped by a wooden door and tugged at the handle。 Somehow Ramses was not surprised when the portal swung silently open。 Stars shone bright overhead； illumining a walled courtyard。 It was strictly utilitarian； no fountain； no flowers； only weeds and piles of trash。 They were at the back of the villa； near the kitchens。 He looked up； scanning the night sky； and found the Dipper and the North Star。 It would be light in a few hours。 Time was definitely of the essence； but there was one question he had to ask。
He turned to the girl。 〃Who helped you？〃
〃No one helped me！ I did it myself； all of it。 I saw you today when they brought you in； and I 。 。 。 There is no time for this。 You must hurry。〃
〃But how did you know …〃
〃No questions！ It won't be easy to find your way out of the city。 I must show you where …〃
〃No； go back to your rooms before you are missed。 I know where I am now。〃
She put her hands on his arms。 〃A horse。 I will get one for you。〃
〃Why don't you just paint a target on my back？〃 Ramses inquired； and immediately felt guilty when her mouth quivered pathetically。 Her face was so close he could see the kohl lining her eyes。 She'd made herself up as if for an assignation； and that absurd pink frock was probably one of her best。
〃I'm sorry；〃 he whispered； and although every moment counted now； he racked his brain to remember a few pleasing platitudes。 〃You have saved my life。 I will never forget …〃
His breath came out in a grunt as she threw herself against him。 〃We will meet again one day；〃 she gasped。 〃You can never be mine； but your image will be enshrined in my heart！〃
〃I forgot that one；〃 Ramses muttered。 She was a well…rounded armful； soft and warm and heavy； and there seemed to be only one way of getting her to stop talking。
So he kissed her； thoroughly but somewhat absentmindedly； and then detached the clinging arms and propelled her through the open door。
〃Through that gate；〃 she panted。 〃Turn to the left …〃
〃Yes； right。 Uh … God bless you。〃
He pulled the door shut and headed； not for the gate； but for the wall to his right。 How long would it be before they disc
