A Dead Man in Istanbul (15 page)

She emerged the next morning her usual self.

‘I have decided,’ she announced at breakfast, ‘that I shall go on safari in Africa, and I have invited Prince Selim, as a former friend of Peter, to come with me.’

‘Is this a good idea, Aunt Syb?’ said Felicity uneasily.

‘Certainly, my dear. I am an expert shot.’

‘Well, Seymour,’ said the Ambassador, ‘I suppose this means that you will be leaving us?’

‘I’m afraid so, sir.’

‘A pity. I do feel that the shearwater on that part of the coast need studying.’

‘Absolutely right, sir!’ said Chalmers eagerly. ‘In fact, I was rather intending to take an interest in the birds myself. I was hoping, sir, that you would share some of your great knowledge with me.’

‘Glad to, Chalmers, glad to,’ said the Old Man, much gratified.

‘Now, how was it that they nested, sir? On one leg, was it?’

‘Well, nice to have met you, Seymour,’ said Ponsonby, shaking hands. ‘I gather from Lady Cunningham that you know Rupert.’

‘Rupert?’

‘A nephew of hers. Works in the Foreign Office.’

‘Oh, yes. Yes. A little.’

‘I daresay that means we may be seeing more of you.’

‘Why don’t you pop over for the weekend sometime, old boy?’ said Rice-Cholmondely. ‘The Oriental Express is very handy. Goes direct to Istanbul. And then we could go to the theatre.’

‘Do you think they need an Arabic interpreter in White-chapel?’ asked Felicity, lying beside him.

‘Not yet,’ said Seymour, ‘but, the way things are going, they probably will.’

Mukhtar said that he was being transferred to a more central post in Istanbul. He was leaving Gelibolu: Gallipoli, as it became known to the world four years later, in 1915, when Chalmers’ mad visions were translated into reality and the Dardanelles became an Armageddon; and the real Fleshmakers took over.