Young Mr. Shrivenham of the British Embassy shifted from one foot to theother and gazed upwards1 as the plane zoomed2 over Baghdad aerodrome.
There was a considerable dust storm in progress. Palm trees, houses, hu-man beings were all shrouded3 in a thick brown haze4. It had come on quitesuddenly.
Lionel Shrivenham observed in a tone of deep distress5:
“Ten to one they can’t come down here.”
“What will they do?” asked his friend Harold.
“Go on to Basrah, I imagine. It’s clear there, I hear.”
“You’re meeting some kind of a VIP, aren’t you?”
Young Mr. Shrivenham groaned6 again.
“Just my luck. The new Ambassador has been delayed coming out. Lans-downe, the Counsellor, is in England. Rice, the Oriental Counsellor, is ill inbed with gastric7 flu, dangerously high temperature. Best is in Tehran, andhere am I, left with the whole bag of tricks. No end of a flap about this fel-low. I don’t know why. Even the hush-hush boys are in a flap. He’s one ofthese world travellers, always off somewhere inaccessible8 on a camel.
Don’t see why he’s so important, but apparently9 he’s absolutely the cat’swhiskers, and I’m to conform to his slightest wish. If he gets carried on toBasrah he’ll probably be wild. Don’t know what arrangements I’d betterlay on. Train up tonight? Or get the RAF to fly him up tomorrow?”
Mr. Shrivenham sighed again, as his sense of injury and responsibilitydeepened. Since his arrival three months ago in Baghdad he had been con-sistently unlucky. One more raspberry, he felt, would finally blight10 whatmight have been a promising11 career.
The plane swooped12 overhead once more.
“Evidently thinks he can’t make it,” said Shrivenham, then added ex-citedly: “Hallo—I believe he’s coming down.”
A few moments later and the plane had taxied sedately13 to its place andShrivenham stood ready to greet the VIP.
His unprofessional eye noted14 “rather a pretty girl” before he sprang for-ward to greet the buccaneer-like figure in the swirling15 cloak.
“Practically fancy dress,” he thought to himself disapprovingly16 as hesaid aloud:
“Sir Rupert Crofton Lee? I’m Shrivenham of the Embassy.”
Sir Rupert, he thought, was slightly curt17 in manner—perhaps under-standable after the strain of circling round the city uncertain whether alanding could be effected or not.
“Nasty day,” continued Shrivenham. “Had a lot of this sort of thing thisyear. Ah, you’ve got the bags. Then, if you’ll follow me, sir, it’s all laidon….”
As they left the aerodrome in the car, Shrivenham said:
“I thought for a bit that you were going to be carried on to some otherAirport, sir. Didn’t look as though the pilot could make a landing. Came upsuddenly, this dust storm.”
Sir Rupert blew out his cheeks importantly as he remarked:
“That would have been disastrous18—quite disastrous. Had my schedulebeen jeopardized19, young man, I can tell you the results would have beengrave and far-reaching in the extreme.”
“Lot of cock,” thought Shrivenham disrespectfully. “These VIP’s thinktheir potty affairs are what makes the world go round.”
Aloud he said respectfully:
“I expect that’s so, sir.”
“Have you any idea when the Ambassador will reach Baghdad?”
“Nothing definite as yet, sir.”
“I shall be sorry to miss him. Haven’t seen him since—let me see, yes, In-dia in 1938.”
Shrivenham preserved a respectful silence.
“Let me see, Rice is here, isn’t he?”
“Yes, sir, he’s Oriental Counsellor.”
“Capable fellow. Knows a lot. I’ll be glad to meet him again.”
Shrivenham coughed.
“As a matter of fact, sir, Rice is on the sick list. They’ve taken him to hos-pital for observation. Violent type of gastroenteritis. Something a bitworse than the usual Baghdad tummy, apparently.”
“What’s that?” Sir Rupert turned his head sharply. “Bad gastroenteritis—hm. Came on suddenly, did it?”
“Day before yesterday, sir.”
Sir Rupert was frowning. The rather affected20 grandiloquence21 of mannerhad dropped from him. He was a simpler man—and somewhat of a wor-ried one.
“I wonder,” he said. “Yes, I wonder.”
Shrivenham looked politely inquiring.
“I’m wondering,” said Sir Rupert, “if it might be a case of Scheele’sGreen….”
Baffled, Shrivenham remained silent.
They were just approaching the Feisal Bridge, and the car swung off tothe left towards the British Embassy.
Suddenly Sir Rupert leaned forward.
“Just stop a minute, will you?” he said sharply. “Yes, right-hand side.
Where all those pots are.”
The car glided22 into the right-hand kerb and stopped.
It was a small native shop piled high with crude white clay pots and wa-ter jars.
A short stocky European who had been standing23 talking to the propri-etor moved away towards the bridge as the car drew up. Shrivenhamthought it was Crosbie of the I and P whom he had met once or twice.
Sir Rupert sprang from the car and strode up to the small booth. Pickingup one of the pots, he started a rapid conversation in Arabic with the pro-prietor. The flow of speech was too fast for Shrivenham whose Arabic wasas yet slow and painstaking24 and distinctly limited in vocabulary.
The proprietor25 was beaming, his hands flew wide, he gesticulated, heexplained at length. Sir Rupert handled different pots, apparently askingquestions about them. Finally he selected a narrow-mouthed water jar,tossed the man some coins and went back to the car.
“Interesting technique,” said Sir Rupert. “Been making them like this forthousands of years, same shape as in one of the hill districts in Armenia.”
His finger slipped down through the narrow aperture26, twisting roundand round.
“It’s very crude stuff,” said Shrivenham unimpressed.
“Oh, no artistic27 merit! But interesting historically. See these indicationsof lugs28 here? You pick up many a historical tip from observation of thesimple things in daily use. I’ve got a collection of them.”
The car turned in through the gates of the British Embassy.
Sir Rupert demanded to be taken straight to his room. Shrivenham wasamused to note that, his lecture on the clay pot ended, Sir Rupert had leftit nonchalantly in the car. Shrivenham made a point of carrying it upstairsand placing it meticulously29 upon Sir Rupert’s bedside table.
“Your pot, sir.”
“Eh? Oh, thank you, my boy.”
Sir Rupert appeared distrait30. Shrivenham left him after repeating thatluncheon would be ready shortly and drinks awaited his choice.
When the young man had left the room, Sir Rupert went to the windowand unfolded the small slip of paper that had been tucked into the mouthof the pot. He smoothed it out. There were two lines of writing on it. Heread them over carefully, then set light to the paper with a match.
Then he summoned a servant.
“Yes, sir? I unpack31 for you, sir?”
“Not yet. I want to see Mr. Shrivenham—up here.”
Shrivenham arrived with a slightly apprehensive32 expression.
“Anything I can do, sir? Anything wrong?”
“Mr. Shrivenham, a drastic change has occurred in my plans. I cancount upon your discretion33, of course?”
“Oh, absolutely, sir.”
“It is some time since I was in Baghdad, actually I have not been heresince the war. The hotels lie mainly on the other bank, do they not?”
“Yes, sir. In Rashid Street.”
“Backing on the Tigris?”
“Yes. The Babylonian Palace is the biggest of them. That’s the more orless official hotel.”
“What do you know about a hotel called the Tio?”
“Oh, a lot of people go there. Food’s rather good and it’s run by a terrificcharacter called Marcus Tio. He’s quite an institution in Baghdad.”
“I want you to book me a room there, Mr. Shrivenham.”
“You mean — you’re not going to stay at the Embassy?” Shrivenhamlooked nervously34 apprehensive. “But—but—it’s all laid on, sir.”
“What is laid on can be laid off,” barked Sir Rupert.
“Oh, of course, sir. I didn’t mean—”
Shrivenham broke off. He had a feeling that in the future someone wasgoing to blame him.
“I have certain somewhat delicate negotiations35 to carry out. I learn thatthey cannot be carried out from the Embassy. I want you to book me aroom tonight at the Tio Hotel and I wish to leave the Embassy in a reason-ably unobtrusive manner. That is to say I do not want to drive up to theTio in an Embassy car. I also require a seat booked on the plane leavingfor Cairo the day after tomorrow.”
Shrivenham looked more dismayed still.
“But I understood you were staying five days—”
“That is no longer the case. It is imperative36 that I reach Cairo as soon asmy business here is terminated. It would not be safe for me to remainlonger.”
“Safe?”
A sudden grim smile transformed Sir Rupert’s face. The manner whichShrivenham had been likening to that of a Prussian drill sergeant37 was laidaside. The man’s charm became suddenly apparent.
“Safety hasn’t usually been one of my preoccupations, I agree,” he said.
“But in this case it isn’t only my own safety I have to consider—my safetyincludes the safety of a lot of other people as well. So make those arrange-ments for me. If the air passage is difficult, apply for priority. Until I leavehere tonight, I shall remain in my room.” He added, as Shrivenham’smouth opened in surprise, “Officially, I’m sick. Touch of malaria38.” Theother nodded. “So I shan’t need food.”
“But surely we can send you up—”
“Twenty-four hours’ fast is nothing to me. I’ve gone hungry longer thanthat on some of my journeys. You just do as I tell you.”
Downstairs Shrivenham was greeted by his colleagues and groaned inanswer to their inquiries39.
“Cloak and dagger40 stuff in a big way,” he said. “Can’t quite make hisgrandiloquence Sir Rupert Crofton Lee out. Whether it’s genuine or play-acting. The swirling cloak and bandit’s hat and all the rest of it. Fellowwho’d read one of his books told me that although he’s a bit of a self-ad-vertiser, he really has done all these things and been to these places—but Idon’t know…Wish Thomas Rice was up and about to cope. That remindsme, what’s Scheele’s Green?”
“Scheele’s Green?” said his friend, frowning. “Something to do withwallpaper, isn’t it? Poisonous. It’s a form of arsenic41, I think.”
“Cripes!” said Shrivenham, staring. “I thought it was a disease. Some-thing like amoebic dysentery.”
“Oh, no, it’s something in the chemical line. What wives do their hus-bands in with, or vice42 versa.”
Shrivenham had relapsed into startled silence. Certain disagreeablefacts were becoming clear to him. Crofton Lee had suggested, in effect,that Thomas Rice, Oriental Counsellor to the Embassy, was suffering, notfrom gastroenteritis, but from arsenical poisoning. Added to that SirRupert had suggested that his own life was in danger, and his decision notto eat food and drink prepared in the kitchens of the British Embassyshook Shrivenham’s decorous British soul to the core. He couldn’t imaginewhat to make of it all.

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1
upwards
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adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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2
zoomed
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v.(飞机、汽车等)急速移动( zoom的过去式 );(价格、费用等)急升,猛涨 | |
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3
shrouded
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v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 );保密 | |
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4
haze
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n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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5
distress
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n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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6
groaned
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v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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7
gastric
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adj.胃的 | |
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8
inaccessible
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adj.达不到的,难接近的 | |
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9
apparently
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adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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10
blight
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n.枯萎病;造成破坏的因素;vt.破坏,摧残 | |
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11
promising
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adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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12
swooped
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俯冲,猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
sedately
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adv.镇静地,安详地 | |
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14
noted
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adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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15
swirling
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v.旋转,打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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16
disapprovingly
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adv.不以为然地,不赞成地,非难地 | |
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17
curt
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adj.简短的,草率的 | |
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18
disastrous
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adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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19
jeopardized
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危及,损害( jeopardize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
affected
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adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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21
grandiloquence
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n.夸张之言,豪言壮语,豪语 | |
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22
glided
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v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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23
standing
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n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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24
painstaking
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adj.苦干的;艰苦的,费力的,刻苦的 | |
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25
proprietor
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n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
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26
aperture
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n.孔,隙,窄的缺口 | |
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27
artistic
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adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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28
lugs
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钎柄 | |
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29
meticulously
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adv.过细地,异常细致地;无微不至;精心 | |
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30
distrait
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adj.心不在焉的 | |
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31
unpack
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vt.打开包裹(或行李),卸货 | |
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32
apprehensive
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adj.担心的,恐惧的,善于领会的 | |
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33
discretion
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n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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34
nervously
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adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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35
negotiations
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协商( negotiation的名词复数 ); 谈判; 完成(难事); 通过 | |
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36
imperative
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n.命令,需要;规则;祈使语气;adj.强制的;紧急的 | |
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37
sergeant
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n.警官,中士 | |
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38
malaria
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n.疟疾 | |
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39
inquiries
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n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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40
dagger
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n.匕首,短剑,剑号 | |
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41
arsenic
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n.砒霜,砷;adj.砷的 | |
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42
vice
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n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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