Seeing a Large Cat Read Free

approach until she spoke-not to any of us but to her companion. It was impossible to avoid hearing her; they had stopped next to our table and her voice was piercingly shrill.
    "I told you to leave me alone!"
    I had not observed her approach, but Ramses must have done. He was instantly on his feet. Removing his khafiya-a courtesy he had not extended to the female members of his family-he said, "May I be of assistance?"
    Hands fluttering in appeal, the girl turned to him. "Oh, thank you," she breathed. "Please-can you make him go away?"
    Her companion gaped at her. A long jaw and crooked nose marred an otherwise pleasant face. He was clean-shaven, with gray eyes and hair of an indeterminate tannish color. "See here, Dolly," he began, and put out his hand.
    I don't believe he meant to take hold of her, but I was not to find out. Ramses caught his wrist. The movement was apparently effortless, the grip without apparent pressure, but the young fellow squawked and buckled at the knees.
    "Good Gad, Ramses," I exclaimed. "Let him go at once."
    "Certainly," said Ramses. He released his hold, but he must have done something else I did not see, for the unfortunate youth sat down with a thump.
    Humiliation is a more effective weapon against the young than physical pain. The youth got to his feet and retreated- but not before he had given Ramses a threatening look.
    He held Ramses accountable, of course. Being a man, he was too obtuse to realize, as did I, that the girl had deliberately provoked the incident. Her little hands now rested on Ramses's arm and she had tipped her head back in order that she might gaze admiringly into his eyes. A mass of curls so fair as to be almost white framed her face, and she was dressed in the height of fashion. I guessed her to be no more than twenty, possibly less. The young ladies of America-for her accent had betrayed her nationality-are much more sophisticated and more indulged than their English counterparts. That this young lady had a wealthy parent I did not doubt. She positively glittered with diamonds-most inappropriate for the time of day and her apparent age.
    I said, "Allow me to present my son, Miss Bellingham. Ramses, if Miss Bellingham is feeling faint after her terrible ordeal, I suggest you offer her a chair."
    "Thank you, ma'am, I'm just fine now." She turned her dimpled smile on me. Hers was a pretty face, with no distinctive characteristics except a pair of very big, very melting brown eyes that formed a striking contrast to her silvery-fair hair. "I know you, of course, Mrs. Emerson. You and your husband are the talk of Cairo. But how do you know the name of an insignificant little person like myself?"
    "We met your father last week," I replied. Emerson growled, but did not comment. "He mentioned his daughter and referred to her as 'Dolly.' A nickname, I presume?"
    "Like 'Ramses,'" said the insignificant little person, offering him a gloved hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Emerson. I had heard of you, too, but I had no idea you were so ... Thank you. I sure appreciate your gallantry."
    "Won't you join us?" I asked, as courtesy demanded. "And allow me to introduce Miss Forth and Mr. Todros."
    Her eyes passed over David as if he had been invisible and rested, briefly, on Nefret's stony countenance.
    "How do you do. I am afraid I cannot stay. There is Daddy now-late as always, the dreadful man! He will fuss at me if I keep him waiting."
    After giving Ramses a last languishing look she tripped away.
    The man who awaited her near the top of the stairs wore an old-fashioned frock coat and snowy stock. Since his military title, as I had been informed, derived from service in the Southern forces during the American Civil War, he must be at least sixty years of age, but one would have supposed him to be younger. He had the erect carriage and lean limbs of a cavalryman, and his white hair, worn rather longer than was the fashion, shone like a silver helmet. His neatly trimmed beard and