Kane smiled. ‘No ordinary woman, I can assure you.
Marie Ferret is half-French, half-Arab. She’s the head of a trading organization which stretches from Zanzibar to Singapore. A very remarkable woman. She has regular trucks going up to the Shabwa area. If your husband wanted to get there in a hurry, that’s the way he would go-‘
There was a strange smile on her face when she looked up at him. ‘Is she a friend of yours?’
Kane shrugged. ‘I know her,’ he said. ‘She’ll give me any information she has.’ He walked to the door. ‘If it’s not too late when I get back, I’ll drop in again.’
She stood up quickly and moved across to the table. ‘I’ve written a letter to the Consul in Aden telling him I’ve found you all right.’ She laughed rather self-consciously. ‘He asked me to do so. He didn’t seem too happy about my coming here on my own.’
He slipped the letter into his pocket and grinned. ‘Maybe he had a point. I’ll see you later.’
He went downstairs, crossed the foyer and entered the casino. Skiros was still sitting by the window, cheroot between his teeth and glass at his elbow.
Kane slipped into the opposite chair. ‘Looks like you’re having a good night.’
Skiros smiled. ‘I do not complain. Luckily the world is full of fools who do not understand that the house always wins. What of Mrs Cunningham’s husband? Have you managed to trace him yet?’
Kane shook his head. ‘Gonzalez says he hasn’t landed here, but you know how much one can rely on his word. I’m going to see Marie Ferret now. She might know something.’
As he got to his feet, he took Ruth Cunningham’s letter from his pocket and pushed it across the table. ‘Put that in the mail bag for me. It’s important.’
Skiros nodded and snapped his fingers at a waiter. ‘You’re just in time. I’m sending a boy down to the jetty now. The mail boat sails on the ten-o’clock tide.’ He gave the letter to the waiter with a brief command. ‘Have you time for a drink?’
Kane shook his head. ‘Another time, Skiros. I’ll probably be back later on to see Mrs Cunningham again.’
Skiros smiled and the flesh creased around his eyes. ‘I trust you will remember that this is business. She’s a very attractive woman.’
Kane didn’t to bother reply. He turned and forced his way through the crowd, crossed the foyer and went out into the cool night.
As he walked along the centre of the narrow street, he thought about the Greek’s last remark. It would be foolish to deny that Ruth Cunningham was an attractive woman and yet, since that brief feeling of excitement and unease when they had first met on the jetty, he had been conscious of no physical feelings about her.
She was the first woman of his own kind he had met for years and yet she left him completely unmoved. But then, women were something he was extremely careful about. After all, Lillian had seemed a very pleasant girl during those first few months before they got married. Remembering what had come after, the thought that she was no longer a part of his life filled him with a conscious pleasure and he paused on a street corner to light a cigarette.
It was the best part of the day. The Hour of the Dove, they called it. The lights of the ships in the harbour were mirrored in the water, and from a nearby cafe came the sounds of music and laughter as someone celebrated a wedding.
Arabs in colourful robes crowded sidewalk tables, sipping coffee from delicate cups, talking endlessly amongst themselves. With the advent of night, the street had become a bazaar with stalls that sold everything from hand-made brassware to cooked food.
There was an air of excitement, of vitality in the air, and the night, like smooth velvet, brushed his face as he pressed through the crowd.
Gradually, the streets emptied as he moved away from the centre and climbed steadily through narrow, cobbled alleys towards the promontory which curved out towards the sea.
Marie Ferret’s house was perched on the extreme end of the finger of rock, looking out over the harbour. It was a two-storeyed building with a flat roof, standing in an acre of garden surrounded by a high wall.