the Englishman in this way.
Sir Nicholas must have had unique powers of persuasion, for if they had
been apprehended in the act there was no doubt that it would have meant
summary execution for both of them.
As Duraid had explained to her, on each occasion it was only Nicholas's
resourcefulness and his network of friends and admirers across the
Middle East and North Africa, which he had been able to call on for
help, that had seen them through.
'He is a bit of a devil,' Duraid had shaken his head with evident
nostalgia at the memory, 'but the man to have with you when things are
tough. Those days were all very exciting, but when I look back on it now
I shudder at the risks we took.'
She had often pondered on the risks that a true inthe-blood collector
was prepared to take to slake his passion. The risk seemed to be out of
proportion to the reward, when it came to adding to his accumulations;
and then she smiled at her own pious sentiments. The venture that she
hoped to lead Sir Nicholas into was not exactly without risk, and she
supposed that a circumlocution of lawyers might debate the legality of
it endlessly.
Still smiling, she fell asleep, for the strain of these last few days
had taken their toll. The air hostess woke her with an admonition to
fasten her seat-belt for the landing at Heathrow.
an phoned her mother from the airport.
ello, Mummy. It's me.'
'Yes, I know that. Where are you, love?' Her mother sounded as
unflappable as ever. -'At Heathrow. I am coming up to stay with you for
a while. Is that all right?'
'Lumley's and ,' her mother chuckled. 'I'll go and make your bed. What
train will you be coming up on?'
'I had a look at the timetable. There is one from King's Cross that will
get me into York at seven this evening.'
'I'll meet you at the station. What happened? Did you and Duraid have a
tiff? Old enough to be your father. I said it wouldn't work.'
Royan was silent for a moment. This was hardly the time for
explanations. 'I'll tell you all about it when I see you this evening.'
Georgina Lumley, her mother, was waiting on the platform in the gloom
and cold of the November evening, bulky and solid in her old green
Barbour coat with Magic, her cocker spaniel, sitting obediently at her
feet. The two of them made an inseparable pair, even when they were not
winning field trials cups. For Royan they painted a comforting and
familiar picture of the English side of her lineage.
Georgina kissed Royan's cheek in a perfunctory manner. 'Never was one
for all that sentimental fiddle, faddle,' she often said with
satisfaction, and she took one of Royan's bags and led the way to the
old mud-splattered Land Rover in the car park.
Magic sniffed Royan's hand and wagged his tail in recognition. Then in a
dignified and condescending manner he allowed her to pat his head, but
like his mistress he was no great sentimentalist either.
. They drove in silence for a while and Georgina lit a cigarette. 'So
