Seven Dials Page 0,65

making an effort to stifle a yawn. It was still extraordinarily warm, his clothes were sticking to his skin, and he was far more tired than he had expected. "Where do I catch the tram for San Stefano?"

"You have piasters?"

"Yes... thank you."

Trenchard rose to his feet also. "Then if you turn right and walk about a hundred yards you will find the stop on your left, immediately across the street. But I would suggest at this time of evening, while you are unfamiliar with the city, that you take a horse carriage. It should not be more than eight or nine piasters, and worth it when you have a case to carry. Good luck, Pitt." He held out his hand. "If I can be of assistance, please call me. If I know anything that might help I shall send a note to you at San Stefano."

Pitt shook his hand, thanked him again, and accepted his advice to take a carriage.

The journey was not long but the heat had not abated in the crowded streets, and once again Pitt was thoroughly bitten by mosquitoes. By the time he arrived at the hotel he was exhausted, and itching everywhere.

However, the hotel was indeed excellent and offered him a room at twenty-five piasters a night, as Trenchard had said. He was offered excellent and abundant food, but he accepted only fresh bread and fruit, and when he had eaten it he went up to his room. As soon as the door was closed he took off his shoes, walked over to the window and stared out at a brilliant black sky dotted with stars. He could smell the heat and the salt wind blowing in off the sea. He breathed in deeply and let it go in a long, aching sigh. The city was beautiful, uplifting, exciting, and so very far from home. He could hear the sound of the sea, occasional laughter, and a constant background noise like that of crickets in summer grass. It reminded him of childhood summers in the country, but he was too tired to enjoy it. He wished more than he could control and be master of that Charlotte were here, so he could say to her "Look," or bid her listen to the faraway voices speaking an utterly different language, or share with her the alien, spicy odors of the night.

He turned back to the unfamiliar room, took his clothes off and washed the dust from himself, then opened the soft drapes of the mosquito nets around the bed. He climbed in, carefully closing them again, and went to sleep almost immediately. He woke once in the darkness and for several moments could not think where he was. He missed the movement of the ship. He was oddly dizzy without it. Then realization flooded back to him, and he turned over and sank into oblivion again until late morning.

HE USED THE FIRST TWO DAYS to learn all he could of the city. He began by purchasing suitable clothes for temperatures in the seventies at night and the eighties during the day. He made use of the excellent public transport system of trams, all newly painted, and trains, British built and oddly familiar even in the dazzling sunlight, against which he felt he was permanently squinting. Sometimes he walked the streets listening to the voices, watching the faces, noting the extraordinary mixture of languages and races. As well as Egyptians there were Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Levantines, Arabs, occasionally French, and everywhere English. He saw soldiers in tropical uniform, expatriates seeming much at ease, as if this was now home to them, the heat, the noise, the market haggling, the blistering brightness of everything. There were pale-faced tourists, tired and excited, determined to see everything. He overheard them chattering about moving on to Cairo, and then taking one of many steamers going up the Nile to Karnak and beyond.

One elderly vicar, his white mustache gleaming against his mahogany skin, spoke enthusiastically about his recent trip. He described sitting at breakfast staring across the timeless Nile as if it had been eternity itself, his Egyptian Gazette open in front of him, his Dundee marmalade on his fresh toast, and the burial pyramids of the pharaohs on the skyline across the sands.

"Perfectly splendid!" he said in a voice that might have been ringing across a gentleman's club in London.

It reminded Pitt sharply of the urgency of his mission, and forced him to begin asking for the Coptic family of Zakhari.