The Last Cut Read Online Free PDF Page A

the operation itself often took place in circumstances that were the reverse of hygienic, performed by an old woman in a filthy room, with consequences that were too frequently the same as those in the case of the Maiden.
    Owen was silent for a moment, then shrugged.
    ‘Well,’ he said, ‘in a way that’s quite helpful for me at any rate. Any chance that we could publish the findings?’
    ‘Why not?’ said Mahmoud.
    ‘It would help me if we could. It would knock all the daft “Myth of the Maiden” nonsense on the head. And with the Cut coming up so soon—’
    ‘I don’t see why not,’ said Mahmoud. ‘I’d have to make it clear that they were preliminary findings, of course.’
    ‘They’re not likely to be altered, though, are they?’
    ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. Only if something new comes up. Or if they find anything unusual. Actually,’ said Mahmoud, ‘there
is
something unusual. Mildly so. Her age. Circumcision usually takes place at thirteen, or even younger. This girl was about twenty.’
    ‘That’s not going to affect anything, though, is it?’
    ‘No. I just find it puzzling, that’s all.’
    ‘A late marriage, perhaps?’
    ‘Perhaps. At any rate it should help us to make an identification.’
    Are you going to do anything about it?’ asked Owen. ‘When you’ve found out who it was?’
    ‘Probably not. It’s not illegal.’
    ‘I know, but—’
    ‘Yes. I know.’
    It was an issue that the Parquet generally fought shy of. Charges of some sort could certainly have been brought but the case would probably have gone to the Native Courts, where it might well have been thrown out. The Native Courts were the most traditional of the courts and unlikely to have any doubts about the practice itself. As for the consequences, while they were undesirable and unfortunate, they were also, one might say, in the natural way of things. The practice was so deeply embedded in social custom that it was, besides, something of a political hot potato. Even the Nationalists steered clear of it.
    ‘It’s not illegal,’ Mahmoud repeated.
    That for him was usually decisive. He had been trained in the French School of Law and had a thoroughly French frame of mind. A thing was either legal or it was not. If it was legal, then it was no concern of lawyers. If it was illegal, then that had to be spelled out.
    All the same, Owen could see that he was not happy.
     
    The release of the findings had the desired effect. Public interest in the Maiden disappeared entirely. No one, after all, cared much about a woman dying. Certainly, of natural causes.
     
    The next morning Owen presented himself at the Department of Irrigation. When he learned what Owen wanted, the clerk threw up his hands.
    ‘Effendi,’ he said tragically, ‘there is only I.’
    Owen looked round the office.
    ‘There is not,’ he said. ‘There are Yussef and Ali and Selim and Abdul. Not to mention the man who has gone out to make the tea.’
    ‘But, Effendi—’
    ‘As well as the people in the next office. And the one after that. And what about—?’
    ‘Effendi, we are as grains of gold in a desert of sand!’
    ‘I’m sure you are. But how about getting on with—’
    ‘Does the Effendi want
all
the names?’ asked the clerk despondently.
    ‘Certainly.’
    ‘But surely only of those fine men who are on the permanent strength?’
    ‘I want the names of all those who are working on the barrage at the moment.’
    ‘But, Effendi, they are legion!’
    ‘How legion are they?’
    The clerk consulted his ledger.
    ‘At this time of year, Effendi,’ he said impressively, ‘sixteen thousand.’
    ‘Not working on the barrage at the moment, there aren’t. About two hundred, I’d say.’
    ‘But, Effendi, they are for the most part worthless fellows, mere villagers, who come up here for the Inundation, work for a few weeks and then return to the dreadful place from where they came!’
    ‘They are the ones I am particularly interested