Thieves Fall Out by Gore Vidal Page B

another tomb, already occupied. What jewelry was left her was inside the sarcophagus, on her body, the mummy. When the tomb was discovered, the necklace was stolen. It came into my hands quite a few years ago and I have kept it much too long.”
    “Too long?”
    Said nodded gravely. “There is a curse on it, you see. The man who stole it from the tomb died horribly, burned alive in his bed. The next owner sold it to me after his wife and two children were killed in an automobile accident. He sold it to me for almost nothing, less than the value of the ruby, just to be rid of it. Poor fellow, he killed himself a month later.” They were now walking down a long avenue lined with carved effigies of kings and gods. The sun was like a weight on Pete’s head.
    “But nothing’s happened to you, has it?”
    Said shook his head. “No, not yet. But I am superstitious, I fear, like all the rest. From the time we are children they tell us about the curse on the tombs. All of us who live here grow up knowing that evil befalls those who antagonize the old gods. It is in our bones. Lately I have been involved in some delicate affairs. I need luck. So it seemed as good a time as any to sell the necklace. I contacted Hastings and Hélène, who handle the Cairo end of our affairs, and told them to make arrangements to get the thing out of Egypt and into the hands of our American customer. You are the result.”
    “Is that O.K. by you?”
    Said paused in the shadow of a statue of a fat, half-naked king. “Yes, I think it’s O.K. by me,” he said slowly. “I believe we can trust you, not because you are honest—there is never any way of telling, no matter what people claim—but because you’re intelligent, and want to live.”
    “You make it sound real nice,” said Pete, grinning.
    “We’ll get along,” said Said. “But here’s my car. Perhaps you’d like to honor my house with a visit?”
    Pete said that he would. They got into the prewar Rolls Royce parked at the end of the avenue of statuary. The native chauffeur started the car and drove west.
    Said’s house was a long, white, rather unattractive building in the best Hollywood-Spanish style. It was set back in the desert, among date palms and tropical trees and flowers.
    “I have an oasis to myself,” said the Egyptian as they got out of the car and went into the house. The interior was more unusual. It was crammed full with expensive antique furniture, English and French, as well as many Egyptian pieces.
    Said ushered him into a cool dim room that opened onto a terrace beyond, where, surrounded by palms, a fountain flowed into a large pond, the center of the oasis.
    Pete sat down in a big chair overlooking the gardens. “Man, I’m glad to be out of that sun.”
    “Gin and tonic?” Pete said that that would suit him fine and Said clapped his hands. A houseboy appeared instantly and took the order. Said sat down opposite Pete. “It is peaceful here,” he said pleasantly. “A little too peaceful for most people’s taste, but I like it. And now that we have such good air service, it is possible to be in Rome or Paris in a few hours, which makes it less like being buried alive.” While he talked, Pete looked about the room. He was particularly interested in the silver-framed photographs decorating many of the tables. There was one of the King and several of women in evening clothes, very elegant-looking, but the photograph that interested him most was the one nearest his chair: a tall man wearing a uniform with a girl on his arm. From where Pete sat their faces were indistinct; but the swastika on the man’s coat sleeve was unmistakable.
    Said, seeing he had noticed the picture, said, a little too quickly, “Tactless, I suppose, but then the Nazis
were
all over Egypt a few years ago and many of us did do business with them. After all, to an Egyptian there is little difference between an English and a German soldier. Both are foreign. One conquered us and the