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    The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 4
    The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 4
    The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 4
    Ebook90 pages1 hour

    The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 4

    By Gilbert Parker

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    About this ebook

    Gilbert Parker was a late 19th and early 20th century politician and novelist who wrote prodigiously. The British-Canadian's works are still popular in the 21st century.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKrill Press
    Release dateFeb 18, 2016
    ISBN9781531212865
    The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 4
    Author

    Gilbert Parker

    Gilbert Parker (1862–1932), also credited as Sir Horatio Gilbert George Parker, 1st Baronet, was a Canadian novelist and British politician. His initial career was in education, working in various schools as a teacher and lecturer. He then traveled abroad to Australia where he became an editor at the Sydney Morning Herald. He expanded his writing to include long-form works such as romance fiction. Some of his most notable titles include Pierre and his People (1892), The Seats of the Mighty and The Battle of the Strong.

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      Book preview

      The Weavers - Gilbert Parker

      THE WEAVERS: A TALE OF ENGLAND AND EGYPT OF FIFTY YEARS AGO - VOLUME 4

      ..................

      Gilbert Parker

      YURITA PRESS

      Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the author.

      This book is a work of fiction; its contents are wholly imagined.

      All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

      Copyright © 2016 by Gilbert Parker

      Interior design by Pronoun

      Distribution by Pronoun

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      BOOK IV.: XXVIII. NAHOUM TURNS THE SCREW XXIX. THE RECOIL XXX. LACEY MOVES XXXI. THE STRUGGLE IN THE DESERT XXXII. FORTY STRIPES SAVE ONE XXXIII. THE DARK INDENTURE XXXIV. NAHOUM DROPS THE MASK: CHAPTER XXVIII

      CHAPTER XXIX

      CHAPTER XXX

      CHAPTER XXXI

      CHAPTER XXXII

      CHAPTER XXXIII

      CHAPTER XXXIV

      The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 4

      By

      Gilbert Parker

      The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 4

      Published by Yurita Press

      New York City, NY

      First published circa 1932

      Copyright © Yurita Press, 2015

      All rights reserved

      Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

      About YURITA Press

      Yurita Press is a boutique publishing company run by people who are passionate about history’s greatest works. We strive to republish the best books ever written across every conceivable genre and making them easily and cheaply available to readers across the world.

      BOOK IV.: XXVIII. NAHOUM TURNS THE SCREW XXIX. THE RECOIL XXX. LACEY MOVES XXXI. THE STRUGGLE IN THE DESERT XXXII. FORTY STRIPES SAVE ONE XXXIII. THE DARK INDENTURE XXXIV. NAHOUM DROPS THE MASK: CHAPTER XXVIII

      ..................

      LAUGHING TO HIMSELF, HIGLI PASHA sat with the stem of a narghileh in his mouth. His big shoulders kept time to the quivering of his fat stomach. He was sitting in a small court-yard of Nahoum Pasha’s palace, waiting for its owner to appear. Meanwhile he exercised a hilarious patience. The years had changed him little since he had been sent on that expedition against the southern tribes which followed hard on David’s appointment to office. As David had expected, few of the traitorous officers returned. Diaz had ignominiously died of the bite of a tarantula before a blow had been struck, but Higli had gratefully received a slight wound in the first encounter, which enabled him to beat a safe retreat to Cairo. He alone of the chief of the old conspirators was left. Achmet was still at the Place of Lepers, and the old nest of traitors was scattered for ever.

      Only Nahoum and Higli were left, and between these two there had never been partnership or understanding. Nahoum was not the man to trust to confederates, and Higli Pasha was too contemptible a coadjutor. Nahoum had faith in no one save Mizraim the Chief Eunuch, but Mizraim alone was better than a thousand; and he was secret—and terrible. Yet Higli had a conviction that Nahoum’s alliance with David was a sham, and that David would pay the price of misplaced confidence one day. More than once when David’s plans had had a set-back, Higli had contrived a meeting with Nahoum, to judge for himself the true position.

      For his visit to-day he had invented a reason—a matter of finance; but his real reason was concealed behind the malevolent merriment by which he was now seized. So absorbed was he that he did not heed the approach of another visitor down an angle of the court-yard. He was roused by a voice.

      Well, what’s tickling you so, pasha?

      The voice was drawling, and quite gentle; but at the sound of it, Higli’s laugh stopped short, and the muscles of his face contracted. If there was one man of whom he had a wholesome fear—why, he could not tell—it was this round-faced, abrupt, imperturbable American, Claridge Pasha’s right-hand man. Legends of resourcefulness and bravery had gathered round his name. Who’s been stroking your chin with a feather, pasha? he continued, his eye piercing the other like a gimlet.

      It was an amusing tale I heard at Assiout, effendi, was Higli’s abashed and surly reply.

      Oh, at Assiout! rejoined Lacey. "Yes, they tell funny stories at

      Assiout. And when were you at Assiout, pasha?"

      Two days ago, effendi.

      And so you thought you’d tell the funny little story to Nahoum as quick as could be, eh? He likes funny stories, same as you—damn, nice, funny little stories, eh?

      There was something chilly in Lacey’s voice now, which Higli did not like; something much too menacing and contemptuous for a mere man-of-all- work to the Inglesi. Higli bridled up, his eyes glared sulkily.

      It is but my own business if I laugh or if I curse, effendi, he replied, his hand shaking a little on the stem of the narghileh.

      Precisely, my diaphanous polyandrist; but it isn’t quite your own affair what you laugh at—not if I know it!

      Does the effendi think I was laughing at him?

      The effendi thinks not. The effendi knows that the descendant of a hundred tigers was laughing at the funny little story, of how the two cotton-mills that Claridge Pasha built were burned down all in one night, and one of his steamers sent down the cataract at Assouan. A knock-down blow for Claridge Pasha, eh? That’s all you thought of, wasn’t it? And it doesn’t matter to you that the cotton-mills made thousands better off, and started new industries in Egypt. No, it only matters to you that Claridge Pasha loses half his fortune, and that you think his feet are in the quicksands, and ‘ll be sucked in, to make an Egyptian holiday. Anything to discredit him here, eh? I’m not sure what else you know; but I’ll find out, my noble pasha, and if you’ve had your hand in it—but no, you ain’t game-cock enough for that! But if you were, if you had a hand in the making of your funny little story, there’s a nutcracker that ‘d break the shell of that joke—

      He turned round quickly, seeing a shadow and hearing a movement. Nahoum was but a few feet away. There was a bland smile on his face, a look of innocence in his magnificent blue eye. As he met Lacey’s look, the smile left his lips, a grave sympathy appeared to possess them, and he spoke softly:

      "I know the thing that

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