bruises gained in the incident in the carpet bazaar, and his head pounded from being hit by the police. Now, more than anything else at all, even a perfect solution to Lovat's death which would exonerate both Ryerson and Ayesha, he wanted to lie down on something soft and sink into a long, profound sleep.
He followed Avram, almost as much by sound of footfall on the dry earth as by sight, for another mile at least, before just about bumping into him when they came to a large solitary hut well away from the water. They were offered hospitality, at a price Avram paid on the promise from Pitt that he would yield up his share when they returned to Alexandria and San Stefano. At the rate he was spending, Pitt would be obliged to ask Trenchard to forward him more funds, and reclaim them from the consulate, and eventually from Narraway.
THE NEXT MORNING was cooler than before. It had a luminous, silvery clarity away from the city, and lying between the vast inland water to the south of Alexandria, and the Mahmudiya Canal leading towards the Nile itself, the reflections of light early in the day were of extraordinary beauty. The dark silhouette of camels with their silent, lurching gait was more like a dream than a reality.
Today Pitt would go to the military authorities of the post where Lovat had served. After a breakfast of fruit, dates, bread, and thick black coffee which came in a cup barely larger than a thimble, he set off. Avram accompanied him, although this time his presence was unnecessary. Pitt had the strong feeling he came largely in order not to allow Pitt the chance of escaping without fulfilling his financial obligations. Avram would not have put it so insultingly, but he was caring for his investment.
It took nearly an hour of argument and abrasive persuasion before Pitt found himself with a thin, mahogany-skinned officer of very apparent short temper and dislike of curious civilians. They stood side by side on a small shaded veranda looking onto the sun-baked drill yard. Another soldier had been left outside to wait.
"Special Branch?" Colonel Margason said with distaste. "Some kind of special police. Good God! What is the world coming to? Never thought London would stoop to that." He glared at Pitt. "Well, what do you want? I don't know any scandal about anyone, and if I did I should deal with it to a man's face, not go whispering about it behind his back."
Pitt was tired, aching, and covered with mosquito bites. There was hardly a part of him which did not hurt in one way or another.
"Then if I am unfortunate enough to be detailed to catch a spy in your command, I shall know not to expect any help from you... sir," he said testily, and saw Margason flush with annoyance. "However," he went on, "it is on behalf of a man murdered in London that I am enquiring. His death appears to have an Egyptian connection, and the only one we are aware of is his service at this post, some twelve years ago. It would be pleasant to be able to clear his character of any slurs that his defense in court may come up with, as soon as they are made, rather than simply denying them blindly, which too often is not believed."
Margason grunted. Dislike was set even harder between them, but Pitt's argument was undeniable, and whatever he felt about Pitt, he would defend the honor of his regiment. "What was his name?" he demanded.
"Edwin Lovat," Pitt replied, sitting down carefully on one of the chairs, as if he intended to remain as long as was necessary to get all he wanted, to the last word. Actually, the seat was hard and not particularly comfortable. It caught him in exactly the same places as the ground had yesterday evening, not to mention where he had slept on a straw palliasse through the night.
"Lovat," Margason repeated thoughtfully, and still standing. "Before my time in command, but I'll see what I can do. General Garrick was in charge then. Gone home. Find him in London, I imagine." He smiled sarcastically. "Could have saved yourself a journey. Or didn't you think of looking at any records? Heaven help Special Branch if you're typical."
"We do not take one man's opinion, unsubstantiated, Colonel Margason," Pitt said as levelly as he could. "Nor are we relying on military information alone. The man was murdered