Lost trumpet

220
THE LOST TRUMPET
tut! . . . Well, by the terms of my agreement with
Miss Simonssen, I’m going in to Cairo to fetch Huth
Rizq down here. Huth’ll come, guilty or not ”
He would apparently have rambled on at length,
his over-bright, young, malignant eyes on the Jew.
But the latter interrupted him, slowly but decisively.
“And what has all this to do with Colonel Saloney ?”
“Oh, he’s her local guardian—Miss Simonssen’s,
I mean. And she insists the Colonel must accompany
me on this expedition. Believe she thinks I might
otherwise brutally maltreat Huth and drag her out
here tied to the auto axle. . . . Coming, sir ?”
I disregarded him and addressed my employer.
“If it is convenient for you, Mr. Huebsch, I would
like to resign my work here and leave to-day.”
He paused in the act of decapitating an egg, large
and smooth and oddly like his head. Marrot came
out from his tent and sat down, and poured himself
a cup of coffee. Huebsch was considering me with
immense intentness.
“Say, that’s a bit unpremeditated, isn’t it ? Don’t
we pay you enough money ?”
“It is not that,” I said. “Nor any question of the
work or the personality of either yourself or Mr.
Marrot. I like both of you—very much. It is a
private matter ”
Marrot handed me a cup of coffee. “In fact, it’s
the matter of the Russian Princess. Quite right to
go if you want to, Saloney. And why the devil
should you provide us with reasons ? Are you a
damned helot ?”