Daughter of the God-King(43)

“Mr. Hafez and I have no need for a gooseberry, Hathor.” Bing was very much on her dignity as she turned down the lamp.

Resisting the temptation to tease Bing about her new beau, Hattie instead adopted a thoughtful manner as she lifted the coverlet to climb into her bed. “It does not appear that the minister is aware of Edward’s secret chamber—did you note?”

Bing nodded in the dim lamplight. “Yes. Although recall that Edward was not himself certain of its existence.”

“Unless…” Hattie added slowly. “Unless Mr. Hafez was probing to see how much we knew.” She cast Bing a covert glance.

Bing stood for a moment, thoughtful. “It would be best to be circumspect, Hathor—a good point.”

After debating for a silent moment, Hattie decided that in all good conscience she should give her companion some warning. “Monsieur Berry seems to believe there are dangerous forces at work, and that we must be very careful.”

But the revelation did not alarm Bing, who only nodded in agreement as she climbed into bed. “I would not be surprised if that was indeed the case. Wherever there is treasure there are those who would do evil.” It was her companion’s turn to render a covert glance. “A provoking man, Monsieur Berry.”

But Hattie only laughed as she plumped her pillow. “Come, Bing—you are as aware as anyone it is my own wretched temper at fault; Monsieur Berry is anything but provoking.”

“I see,” replied Bing in a level tone.

Hattie sighed, wrapping her arms around her knees as she sat in her bed. “I don’t know whom to trust in this business, and it puts me on edge.”

“No blame for it—what with all the talk of hidden treasure and ancient curses.”

“And the odious solicitor—don’t forget him.”

“Indeed.” Bing hesitated, then added, “In turn, I must mention that I am not certain Monsieur Berry has been entirely forthright with us.”

You don’t know the half of it, thought Hattie. Aloud, she replied, “Not to worry, Bing—I am aware that the mysterious Monsieur Berry has not been forthright. He has admitted as much to me.”

“I wondered if perhaps he works for the Prefect of Police.”

Hattie lay down and studied the ceiling in the darkness, her arms crossed behind her head. “You believe he is a law enforcement officer?”

“It is only an impression—but there is little that he does not notice.”

Hattie thought this over, but was met with the undeniable fact that Berry could not work for the French Prefect because—unbeknownst to Bing—Berry was not French. Hattie’s working theory was that he was some sort of spy—he and the captain, both—only it was unclear whose interests he represented; one thing was for certain, he was definitely not English. “An intriguing idea,” she responded, and decided all puzzles could await the morning—she was tired.

She awoke some time later and wondered if it was morning already. The room was enveloped in darkness, however, with the lamp still burning low. Hattie realized she had been awakened by a soft sound and, lying still, she heard it again. Suddenly wide awake, she carefully raised herself on her elbow, her eyes straining into the darkness. In the dim light she could make out a figure crouched down near the wardrobe toward the foot of her bed and her mouth went dry. Craven, she thought—take hold of yourself. “You there,” she said loudly, reaching around for something to use as a weapon. “Identify yourself.”

Several things then happened in rapid succession; the figure sprang upright and, after a moment’s hesitation, made straight for Hattie, who screeched in alarm and scrambled to the other side of the bed. Her attacker was revealed to be an Egyptian man in native garb, who reached across the bed to grasp her arm roughly while Hattie unsuccessfully twisted to avoid him. He dragged her across the bed while Hattie furiously punched at him with her free hand until Bing’s voice rang out. “Halt,” she commanded. “I am armed and I will shoot.”

It was unclear whether the intruder spoke English, but he ignored Bing and wrapped his arms around Hattie, wrestling her toward the door. Hattie sank her teeth into his wrist just as a loud report sounded; Bing had fired. The intruder yelped, although Hattie wasn’t certain if he had been shot or merely bitten, and Hattie pulled herself free long enough to leap toward Bing who stood unflinching, holding her pistol on the intruder. The balcony doors were suddenly flung open and the turbaned man appeared, hesitating in the dimness as he took in the scene. Hattie gasped to Bing, “Don’t shoot the new one,” just as the original intruder decided a retreat was in order. He ran at the turbaned man, knocking him back, then leapt over him to disappear through the balcony doors, the turbaned man up again and hot on his heels.