On the morning preceding the gala, Basil went as usual to his office. He found Mr. Youkoumian busily packing a canvas grip with the few portable objects of value that had been collected for the museum. “I better take care of these in case anything appens,” he explained. “Catching train eleven o’clock. Very much crowded train. I think many wise men will be aboard. You better come too, Mr. Seal. I fix it O.K.”
“What is going to happen?”
“I don’t know nothing, Mr. Seal. I don’t ask no questions. All I think that if there is a bust up I will better be at the coast. They were preaching in all the churches Sunday against the Emperor’s birth control. Madame Youkoumian told me, which is a very pious and churchgoing woman. But I think there is more than that going to happen. I think General Connolly knows something. You better come to the coast, Mr. Seal. No?”
There was nothing to do that morning; no letters to answer; no chits from the palace; the work of the Ministry seemed suddenly over. Basil locked his office door, pocketed the key and strode across the yard to see Seth. Two officers at the gate-house hushed their conversation as Basil passed them.
He found Seth, in an elegant grey suit and pale coloured shoes, moodily pouring over the map of the new city.
“They have stopped work on the Boulevard Seth. Jagger has dismissed his men. Why is this?”
“He hadn’t been paid for three weeks. He didn’t like the new bank notes.’
“Traitor. I will have him shot. I sent for Connolly an hour ago. Where is he?”
“A great number of Europeans left for the coast by this morning’s train—but I don’t think Connolly was with them.”
“Europeans leaving? What do I care? The city is full of my people. I have watched them from the tower with my field glasses. All day they come streaming in by the four roads…. But the work must go on. The Anglican Cathedral, for example; it should be down by now. I’ll have it down if I have to work with my own hands. You see it is right in the way of the great Northern thoroughfare. Look at it on the plan—so straight…”
“Seth, there’s a lot of talk going about. They say there may be trouble tomorrow.”
“God, have I not had trouble to-day and yesterday? Why should I worry about tomorrow?”
That evening Dame Mildred and Miss Tin saw a very curious sight. They had been to tea with the Bishop and leaving him, made a slight detour, in order to take advantage of the singular sweetness of the evening air. As they passed the Anglican Cathedral they noticed a young man working alone. He wore light grey and parti-coloured shoes and he was engaged in battering at the granite archway at the West End with an energy very rare among Azanian navvies.
“How like the Emperor.”
“Don’t be absurd, Sarah.”
They left the grey figure chipping diligently in the twilight, and returned to their hotel where the Youkoumians’ departure had utterly disorganised the service.
“Just when we had begun to make them understand how we liked things…” complained Dame Mildred.
Next morning the ladies were up early. They had been awaked before dawn by the traffic under their windows, mules and ponies, chatter and scuffling, cars hooting for passage. Dame Mildred opened the shutters and looked down into the crowded street. Miss Tin joined her.
“I’ve been ringing for twenty minutes. There doesn’t seem to be a soul in the hotel.”
Nor was there; the servants had gone out last night after dinner and had not returned. Fortunately Dame Mildred had the spirit stove without which she never ventured abroad, some biscuits and cubes of bouillon. They breakfasted in this way upstairs while the crowd outside grew every moment in volume and variety, as the sun, brilliant and piercing as on other less notable mornings, mounted over the city. Dust rose from the crowded street and hung sparkling in the air.
“So nice for the Emperor to have a good day for his Pageant. Not at all like any of the pageants I can remember in England. Do you remember the Girl Guides’ rally when there was that terrible hail storm—in August, too? How the Brownies cried.”
The route of the procession lay past the Hotel de I’Empereur Seth. Shop fronts had been boarded up and several of the householders had erected stands and temporary balconies outside their windows. Some weeks earlier, when the Pageant had first been announced, Mr. Youkoumian had advertised accommodation of this kind and sold a number of tickets to prospective sightseers. In the subsequent uncertainty he had abandoned this among other of his projects. Now however two or three Indians, a Greek and four or five Azanians in gala clothes presented themselves at the hotel to claim their seats in the stand. They explored the deserted vestibule and dining-room, climbed the stairs and finally reached the bedrooms of the English ladies. Hardened by long exposure to rebuffs and injustice, the Indians paid no attention to Dame Mildred’s protests. Instead they pulled up the bed across the window, seated themselves in positions of excellent advantage and then producing small bags of betel nuts from their pockets settled down to wait, patiently chewing and spitting. Encouraged by this example the other intruders took possession of the other windows. The Greek politely offered Miss Tin a place in their midst and accepted her refusal with somewhat puzzled concern. The two ladies of the Azanian party wandered round the room picking up and examining the articles on the washstand and dressing table, and chattering with simple pleasure over the contents of the chest of drawers.
“This is an intolerable outrage. But I don’t see what we can do about it at the moment. Sir Samson will have to lodge a complaint.”
“We can’t possibly remain here. We can’t possibly go out into the street. There is only one place for us—the roof.”
This position was easily accessible by means of a ladder and trap door. Hastily equipping themselves with rugs, pillows, sunshades, two light novels, cameras and the remains of the biscuits, the resolute ladies climbed up into the blazing sunlight. Dame Mildred handed up their provisions to Miss Tin, then-followed her. The trap door could not be bolted from above but fortunately the tin roof was weighted in many places by rock boulders, placed there to strengthen it in times of high wind. One of these they rolled into place, then sliding down the hot corrugations to the low cement parapet, they made their nest in a mood of temporary tranquillity.
“We shall see very well from here, Sarah. There will be plenty of time to have those natives punished tomorrow.”
