“What are we to do? This will spoil everything,” said the Um-ul-Pasha.
“Starve her, break her spirit!” cried Jamileh Khanum.
“But there is no time,” objected the Um-ul-Pasha. “Whatever we do must be done at once. Let us send for Azim Bey, and bid him devise a plan to set things right.”
“Never!” cried Jamileh Khanum, fiercely. “What! shall that young Shaitan laugh at my son’s beard?” This was a bold figure of speech, for little Najib Bey was barely two years old. “Let us send the Frangi woman a cup of coffee.”
“Art thou mad?” cried the Um-ul-Pasha, aghast at the sinister suggestion. “Are we not yet deep enough in disgrace with my son, and shall we bring the wrath of the Balio Bey upon our heads as well? I tell thee this is our only chance. The boy has a wise head, and for the sake of his family will devise some scheme by which our credit may be saved and all set right.”
“Do as thou wilt,” said Jamileh Khanum; “I will have no hand in it,” and she rose and swept from the room, flinging a curse at Cecil as she went. Presently the Um-ul-Pasha and Mdlle. Katrina followed her out, and Cecil and Um Yusuf were left alone, waiting in breathless expectancy.
It seemed a very long time that the two prisoners waited alone, and it was indeed long enough for the momentary excitement to pass away, and for Cecil to realise how very little she had to support her, in spite of her valiant words, beyond her innate British pluck and a determination not to be bullied. Um Yusuf was not a comforting companion. She passed the time in giving utterance to doleful prognostications, covering most of the contingencies which could reasonably be expected to occur under the circumstances, and ending up with--
“Yes, mademoiselle, this quite fixed in my mind. Not you nor I shall eat one morsel nor drink one drop more in this house.”
“Well,” said Cecil, with a half-hearted attempt to turn the affair into a joke, “if we must choose between being starved and poisoned, Um Yusuf, I think the poisoning would be less painful in the end. It would certainly be quicker.”
Um Yusuf gave a contemptuous sniff at her mistress’s flippancy, and they waited in silence, until there was a sound of hurrying footsteps in the passage. Then the curtain was pulled aside, and Azim Bey darted in, radiant with smiles, while behind him appeared the faithful Masûd, grinning from ear to ear.