The Mamur Zapt and the Spoils of Egypt Read Online Free PDF Page B

Liberals are back in power. They won’t hear of a licence.’
    ‘I don’t know where she stands on the licence business,’ said Owen. ‘From what I’ve gathered, it’s more a question of whether to allow antiques to be exported at all.’
    ‘She wants to ban that? Bloody hell, that
would
create a rumpus.’
    ‘It would. It is already.’
    Jopling regarded him curiously.
    ‘How do you come to be involved? It’s not really your line, is it?’ Like many people, he was uncertain exactly what was the Mamur Zapt’s line. ‘More Carmichael’s.’
    ‘Enforcement,’ said Carmichael. ‘He’s on the enforcement side.’
    ‘Stopping the smuggling? Blimey, you’ve got a job on! Good luck, mate!’
    He drained his glass. Carmichael ordered another round.
    ‘That’s not the only thing,’ said Owen. He told them about the incident in the Ataba.
    ‘Somebody tried to push her under a tram?’ said Jopling. ‘Wish I’d thought of that. Might have been cheaper than the beer.’
    ‘No one did anything,’ scoffed Carmichael. ‘She’s imagining things.’
    ‘That’s a bit like the conclusion I’m coming to,’ said Owen.
     
    Owen heard the water-carrier before he saw him. Even in the uproar of the Ataba-el-Khadra he heard the clanging of the little brass cups. They gave out a note as clear as a bell.
    And there he was, the brass cups slung round his neck in front of him, on his back a resplendent brass urn and, lower down, dangling from his waist, two black bulging water-skins.
    In the richer parts of the city the water-sellers sometimes wore the old national dress; in the poorer, they dressed in rags. This one compromised, wearing shirt-style tunic on top, rags below, so that it didn’t matter when he walked into the Nile to replenish his skins.
    As he moved through the crowd, slowly because of his burden, he gave the traditional cry: ‘May God compensate me!’
    Owen caught his eye and the man moved towards him.
    ‘Compensation is at hand, brother!’ he said.
    The man smiled, produced a cup, bent deftly and a cool, clear spurt of water leaped over his shoulder and into the cup without spilling a drop.
    ‘And there is yet more compensation if you can tell me what I seek to know.’
    He took the cup and sipped it.
    ‘If I know, then I will tell you,’ said the man.
    ‘Two days ago,’ said Owen, ‘you were at this spot at this time and you were able to help a lady when she fell.’
    The water-seller looked at him curiously.
    ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I remember the lady.’
    ‘What else do you remember?’ asked Owen. ‘Did you see her fall?’
    ‘I saw her fall and I saw her hit the tram and I thought: God protect her! And I think He did, for when I got to her she was lying beside the tram, hurt, I think, but not broken.’
    ‘This is good water,’ said Owen. ‘Give me some more.’ The man bent again and refilled the cup.
    ‘She hit the tram,’ said Owen. ‘The tram did not hit her?’ The water-carrier made a gesture with his hand.
    ‘Are they not the same?’
    ‘No,’ said Owen, ‘for you speak as if the tram might not have hit her had she not herself moved.’
    ‘She was falling,’ said the water-carrier. ‘She fell towards the tram.’
    ‘And hit its side?’
    ‘Yes. High up. Which is fortunate, I think, as it knocked her away, so that she did not fall beneath the wheels.’
    ‘She must, then, have been standing close to it?’
    The water-carrier nodded.
    ‘Yes, effendi, in the street, quite close to its path.’
    ‘But not actually in its path?’
    ‘No, not in its path.’
    Owen handed the cup back.
    ‘You speak as if you saw all clearly,’ he said.
    The water-carrier bowed his head.
    ‘I did see all clearly. I was standing not far from her and there was no one between us.’
    ‘Then perhaps,’ said Owen, ‘you can tell me how she came to fall?’
    The water-carrier hesitated.
    ‘I should be able to,’ he said, ‘but—’
    ‘Did she stumble?’
    ‘She stumbled, yes.