Mamur Zapt 11 The Last Cut by Michael Pearce

Author:Michael Pearce [Pearce, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: det_history
Published: 2014-07-15T13:16:37.993278+00:00

He was still sitting there thinking it over when Yussef, his orderly, announced that there was someone who wished to see him. Owen knew from this that he was an ordinary Arab. Most others, that is to say, those who were not Arabs or who did not think of themselves as ordinary, described themselves as effendi. Effendi wishing to see Owen usually presented themselves directly to Nikos, the Mamur Zapt’s official clerk. The ordinary Arab, abashed by the huge facade of the Bab-el-Khalk, lingered out- side on the steps until he could pluck up enough courage to accost an orderly, who would, in lordly fashion, instruct him to wait outside the orderly room until his betters decided what to do with him.

The man, when Yussef brought him along, confirmed Owen’s assumption. Almost. He was not the lowest of the low for his dress was of good cloth. The white turban bound round his tarboosh, for example, was of cashmere. But he was wearing a turban and not the pot-like tarboosh by itself, which would have been the mark of the effendi; and he was wearing a galabeeyah not a suit.

Owen rose to greet him and led him across to the two cane-work chairs put beneath the window where there was a chance of catching a breath of air. The windows were shuttered against the sun but through the slats there occasionally crept a waft of something which was not entirely tepid.

Yussef hovered for a moment outside the door. Owen knew why. He was wondering whether the man merited coffee. Evidently he decided that he did, for a little later Owen heard the pad of returning feet and smelt the coffee. That in itself was significant, for Yussef’s judgement in these matters was usually fine. All the same there was something about the man that was slightly puzzling, something that Owen was not familiar with.

His name, he said, was Al-Sayyid Hannam, and he had come about his son.

‘You are Suleimans father?’

‘Yes.’ He sighed. And sometimes I wonder what I have done.’

All fathers do that.’

All fathers have hopes for their sons; and when they see themselves disappointed, they ask themselves why.’

‘Sometimes it is mere youthfulness.’

‘That is what I told myself. When this foolish business of the girl first came up.’

‘You knew about it?’

The man nodded.

‘Suleiman, since he came up to the city, has been staying with the family of a business friend of mine. When he learned what was happening he was troubled and spoke to me. I said: “Let it be. The boy is young. It will come to nothing.” But that was before I knew who or what she was.’

A water-carrier’s daughter?’

‘That would be bad enough. For I had set my hopes higher. I had sent my son to the city in the hope that he would do better than his father.’ He looked at Owen. ‘Not that I am complaining. God has smiled on me and I have prospered. But I work the land. Our family has always worked the land.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.