Twenty-one
They started into Baghdad early. Victoria’s spirits felt curiously¹ low. Shehad almost a lump in her throat as she looked back on the ExpeditionHouse. However, the acute discomfort² entailed³ in the mad bumping of thelorry effectively distracted her mind from anything but the torture of themoment. It seemed strange to be driving along a so- called road again,passing donkeys and meeting dusty lorries. It took nearly three hours toreach the outskirts⁴ of Baghdad. The lorry decanted⁵ them at the Tio Hoteland then went off with the cook and the driver to do all the necessaryshopping. A large bundle of mail was awaiting Dr. Pauncefoot Jones andRichard. Marcus appearing suddenly, massive and beaming, welcomedVictoria with his usual friendly radiance.
“Ah,” he said, “it is a long time since I have seen you. You do not come tomy hotel. Not for a week—two weeks. Why is that? You lunch here today,you have everything you want? The baby chickens? The big steak? Onlynot the turkey stuffed very special with flavouring and rice, because forthat you must let me know the day before.”
It seemed clear that as far as the Tio Hotel was concerned, the kidnap-ping of Victoria had not been noticed. Possibly Edward, on the advice ofMr. Dakin, had not been to the police.
“Is Mr. Dakin in Baghdad, do you know, Marcus?” she asked.
“Mr. Dakin—ah yes, very nice man—of course, he is friend of yours. Hewas here yesterday—no, day before. And Captain Crosbie, you know him?
A friend of Mr. Dakin’s. He arrives today from Kermanshah.”
“You know where Mr. Dakin’s office is?”
“Sure I know. Everybody knows the Iraqi Iranian Oil Co.”
“Well, I want to go there now. In a taxi. But I want to be sure the taxiknows where to take me.”
“I tell him myself,” said Marcus obligingly.
He escorted her to the head of the alleyway and yelled in his usual viol-ent fashion. A startled minion⁶ arrived at a run. Marcus commanded himto

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