'Well, this is pleasant, isn't it?' Elliott said, surveying the little couch and chairs, the tiny portal. There had not been much time to arrange for proper accommodations, but Edith had stepped in finally and seen to everything herself.
'You look tired, Father. Let me order you some tea.'
The Earl eased himself into the little gilded fauteuil. Tea did sound rather nice. What was that fragrance? Were there flowers in this room? He saw none. Only the champagne in its glistening ice bucket and the glasses ready on the silver tray.
Then he remembered. The morning glory he had crushed into his pocket. It was still giving off a latent perfume.
'Yes, tea would be fine, Alex, but there's no hurry,' he murmured. Reaching into his pocket, he found the mangled little blossom and drew it out and lifted it to his nose.
A very pretty scent indeed. And then he thought of that conservatory, overgrown fantastically with leaves and blossoms. He looked at the morning glory. As he watched, it straightened, the creases in its waxy petals disappearing. It opened completely and within seconds had become again a perfect bloom.
Alex was talking, but Elliott did not hear him. He merely looked stupidly at the flower. Then he crushed it again, tightly in the palm of his hand.
Slowly he looked up to see that Alex was just putting down the telephone.
'Tea in fifteen minutes,' Alex said. 'What's the matter, Father? Father, you're white as a-'
'Nothing. No. It's nothing. I want to rest now. Call me when the tea comes.'
He stood up, the flower clenched still in his fist.
When he had shut the door of his stateroom, he leaned against it, the sweat flooding down his back. He opened his hand. Again the blossom sprang back from a crushed and broken thing into a perfect flower, the blue- and-white petals lengthening before his eyes.
For an endless time, it seemed, he stared at it. The tiny bit of green leaf at its base curled as he watched. Then he realized he was looking at himself in the mirror. The gray-haired, partially crippled Earl of Rutherford, handsome still at fifty-five, though every step he took was an agony. He let go his walking stick, ignoring it as it fell, and with his left hand felt of his gray hair.
He could hear Alex calling him. The tea had already come. Carefully he took out his wallet. He crushed the flower again and slipped it into the leather folds. Then he bent over very slowly and picked up his cane.
* * *
In a daze, it seemed, he stared at his son, who poured the tea for him.
'You know, Father,' Alex said, 'I'm beginning to think it's going to work out after all. I've had a good look at Ramsey. He's quite a handsome fellow, but he's too old for her, don't you think?'
* * *
Oh, but this was too much fun, this great floating iron palace with little shops on board, and a great banquet room and a dance floor where musicians would later play!
And his quarters, why, never as a King had he had such splendid quarters aboard a seagoing vessel. He was laughing almost foolishly as the stewards finished unpacking the very last of Lawrence Stratford's clothes.
Samir closed the door after they'd gone, then turned and drew out a great deal of paper money from his coat.
'This will take care of your wants for a long time, sire, only you must not show it all at one time.'
'Yes, my loyal one. That was the common wisdom when I'd slip out of the palace as a boy.'' He gave another exuberant laugh. He couldn't help himself. The ship even contained a library and a small cinema; and then all the marvels below deck. And the gentle, elegant members of the crew-all of whom had the manners of gentlemen-had told him he might move about as he wished.
'Your coin was worth a great deal more, sire, but I had little room to bargain.'
'As they say in this day and age, Samir, don't give it another thought. And you are correct in your estimation of Lord Rutherford. He believes. In fact, I should say he knows.'
'But it's Henry Stratford that presents the danger. Would a fall from the deck on the high seas be justice?'
'Not wise. It would destroy Julie's peace of mind. The more I learn of this age, the more I understand its complexities, its highly developed concepts of justice. They are Roman, but they are something more. We shall keep an eye on the progress of Mr. Henry Stratford. When his presence becomes more of a trial to his cousin, then perhaps his death will be the better of two evils, and you need not worry about that part of it. I shall do it alone.'
'Yes, sire. But if for any reason you do not want this task, I shall be more than happy to kill this man myself.'
Ramses laughed softly. How he liked this one; so shrewd, yet honest; patient, yet keenly clever as well.
'Maybe we should kill him together, Samir,' he said. 'But whatever the case I am ravenous. When do we take this great meal together on the pink tablecloths amid the great potted palms?'
'All too soon, sire, and please be ... careful.'
'Samir, do not worry,' Ramses said. He took Samir's hand. 'I have my instructions already from Queen Julie. I am to eat only one item of fish, one item of fowl, one item of meat, and not all at the same time.'
It was Samir's turn to laugh softly.
'Are you unhappy still?' Ramses asked.
'No, sire. I am very happy. Don't ever be disappointed in my sombre expression. I have seen more in my life, as of this moment, than I ever dreamed I would see. When Henry Stratford is dead, I shall ask for nothing more.'
Ramses nodded. His secret was safe forever with this one, he knew it, though he could not fully understand this quality of wisdom and resignation. He had never known it when he was mortal. He didn't know it now.
11
IT WAS a sumptuous first-class dining room, crowded already with gentlemen in white tie and tails and ladies in low-cut dresses. When Julie came in and took her chair, Alex rose to assist her. Henry and Elliott, already seated opposite, also rose, and though Julie nodded to Elliott, she found herself incapable of looking at her cousin.
She turned to Alex, and placed her hand on his. Unfortunately she could not help overhearing Henry continuing to talk angrily in Elliott's ear. Something about Alex being a fool that he could not have stopped Julie from taking this trip.
Alex, staring down at the plate before him, seemed somewhat at a loss. Was this the time or place for truth? She felt she must be honest from the beginning, or matters would only become worse for Alex, and she must see that they did not.
'Alex,' she said in a low voice, 'I may stay in Egypt. I don't know what my plans are. You know sometimes, my darling, I think you need someone as good as you are.'
He wasn't surprised by her words. He thought for only a moment before answering.' 'But how could I want anyone better than you? I'll follow you into the jungles of the Sudan if that's where you want to go.'
'You don't know what you're saying.'
He bent forward, his voice dropping to the most intimate whisper. 'I love you, Julie. Everything else in my life I take for granted. But not you. And you're more precious to me than all the rest put together. Julie, I mean to fight for you, if that's what must be done.'
What could she possibly say to him that would not wound him? He looked up suddenly. Ramses and Samir were here.
For a moment, she was speechless. Ramses was a vision in her father's white boiled shirt and beautifully cut tailcoat. As he took his seat, his every gesture seemed more graceful and more decorous than those of the Englishmen around him. He veritably glistened with vigor and well-being. The smile he flashed was like a light.
Then something happened. He stared at Julie's bare shoulders, at the plunging neck of her gown. He stared in particular at the tiny shadow between her half-naked breasts. And Alex stared at Ramses hi polite outrage. And
