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he could do to keep from blurting them out。 〃Anybody I know？〃 or 〃You wouldn't be referring to my uncle； would you？〃 He wondered if there had been some drug in the tea after all； or if it was only the blow on the head that was clouding his thinking。 Sahin couldn't be serious。 He was playing some sort of game and Ramses hadn't the foggiest notion what he was really after。
〃There have been several；〃 Ramses began。 His voice echoed oddly inside his head。 He tried to put the glass down。 It tipped； spilling the rest of the tea across the floor。 〃Was that really necessary？〃 he asked thickly。
〃A lesson； which you have not yet learned； it seems；〃 Sahin replied equably。 〃Never trust anyone's word。 Now e along like a good lad。 I don't want to hurt you。〃
He clapped his hands。 Two men entered。 〃Gently； gently；〃 Sahin crooned； as they pulled Ramses to his feet and half led； half dragged him out of the room； up a few steps and down a few； through the mazelike series of rooms and corridors that were typical of such houses。 He was vaguely aware of staring faces； as indistinct as ghosts； and of soft exclamations。 Eventually they escorted him down a long flight of stairs。 The smell came up to meet him … wet stone； and mold； and the sickly sweetness of something rotten。
There were three doors along the short passage； heavy wood banded with iron。 Two were closed。 They took him into the third room； a stone…walled box barely six feet square and six high。 Rodent bones and a thin layer of straw； liquescent with decay； littered the floor。 The cell contained a rough wooden bench along one wall； a few crude earthenware vessels； and several sets of chains held by staples driven deep into floor and wall。 Working with silent efficiency； as if they had gone through the procedure many times； the two guards deposited Ramses on the bench。 Too dizzy to sit upright； he toppled forward； one of them had to hold him while the other raised his arms and locked the fetters round his wrists。 They chained his feet； too； and then left。
〃Faugh；〃 said Sahin Pasha； wrinkling his nose。 〃It's even worse than I remembered。 This house is a temporary loan； from a colleague of mine； my own prisons are more civilized。 I will return in the morning to see if you have changed your mind。〃
He drew his elegant robes tightly about him so they wouldn't touch the filthy wall and backed away。 The door slammed shut。 The hinges creaked horribly。 They would； of course。
Ramses sat with his head bowed； breathing steadily and slowly； hoping he wasn't going to be sick。 Gradually he got his stomach under control and strength began to return to his limbs。 Cautiously he tested the fetters。 The iron cuffs had simply snapped into place； they could probably be opened without a key； but his hands were a yard apart and each chain was less than six inches long。 He entertained himself for a while banging and rubbing the cuffs against the stone wall but succeeded only in scraping his knuckles。
He leaned back； overing an instinctive reluctance to touch the slimy stone of the wall。 His mother would have added several other adjectives … hard； cold； wet； dank； crawling with curious insects that were gathering to investigate a new source of nourishment。 A few of them had already found his feet。 He smiled wryly。 His mother would also inform him； in that brisk way of hers； that he'd got himself into a pretty mess this time。 No weapons； no useful tools concealed in his boots or clothing。 They had even found the needle…thin knife he'd hidden under a dirty bandage wrapped round his forearm。 And all for nothing。 He was no wiser about the identity of 〃the holy infidel。〃
He closed his eyes and summoned up the image of that bearded face and arrogant nose。 He had a good visual memory； but he hadn't seen enough for a positive identification。 Remembering the innumerable times he had failed to recognize his exasperating uncle； he had known a single glance wouldn't be enough。 He had counted on being able to observe Ismail longer； watching for a familiar gesture or movement； hearing his voice。 The man had been closely guarded； but it might have been a guard of honor。 Sahin hadn't actually confirmed or denied anything； he had only made a few ambiguous references to turncoats。
It had been a restless night and a tiring day。 He fell into a waking doze； jerked upright by the pressure of the shackles against his scraped hands whenever deeper sleep loosened his muscles。 Dream images floated through his mind： Nefret； first and last and always； her blue eyes tender with concern or blazing with fury … at him； for being stupid enough to fall into this trap。 It had been a trap； he had been lied to； used； cold…bloodedly； for the sole purpose of getting that innocent…looking assassin into Gaza。 Cartright and his superiors must have known there was a good chance both of them would be caught or killed if Chetwode carried out his orders 。 。 。 The trap； a cage as big as a drawing room； swathed in folds of golden silk that didn't quite conceal the rusty bars； soft cushions under him； and a girl in his arms； a girl with long black hair that snaked round his hands； and tightened and hardened into fetters。
When he opened his eyes； he thought for a moment he must still be dreaming。 The face close to his was a disconcerting blend of Sahin's strong features and the round…cheeked houri who had nestled in his embrace。 But the pain in his hands was real； and so was the pocket torch whose beam wavered wildly before she put it down on the bench beside him。 He sat up straighter and started to speak。 She put her hand over his lips。
〃Don't speak； don't cry out；〃 she whispered in English。 〃I will help you escape。〃
Her hand was soft and plump and perfumed。 Her hair was black； it had been twisted into a knot； but long strands had escaped to hang limply over her forehead。 Her nose was her father's； large and curved； and her mouth was the same shape； though it was now tremulous and； he noticed； carefully painted。 There could be no doubt of her identity。 Was this another trick of Sahin's … a version of cat and mouse； raising hopes of escape before dashing them； with his daughter as the very visible alternative to re…imprisonment？
Her palm and fingers slid slowly across his mouth。 〃Why？〃 he asked softly。
〃Don't ask questions！〃 Her voice was thin with nervousness。 She straightened； and he saw she was wearing the enveloping black tob over a rather frivolous pink frock of European style。
It took her a while to open the manacles。 Under the perfume that wafted round her； Ramses could sense the fear that made her hands shake and soaked her with sweat。
The iron circles finally parted。 He had lost all track of time in the eternal darkness； but he must have been there for hours。 Slowly he lowered his aching arms and flexed his hands。 She was kneeling； working at the chain around his feet。 He bent over and pushed her hands away。 〃I'll do it。 Hold the torch。 How do they work？〃
〃You have to push 。 。 。 here 。 。 。〃 A shaking finger indicated the spot。 〃And pull this at the same time。 They're rusty； stiff 。 。 。〃
The chains clinked and he swore under his breath。 They were making too much noise and taking too much time。 It was too