merely a fault of the individual, whereas injustice is a fault in the society.’
Mahmoud was a great legalist. He believed passionately in the law, which, of course, left him in rather an isolated position in Egypt. It even created difficulties for him as a Nationalist because, while it was easy enough to oppose the illegal British and the corrupt regime of the Pashas which had preceded it, he also opposed extra-legal action, such as violence. Peaceful demonstrations, he believed in; but then, as Owen frequently said to him (they spent many happy hours in cafés arguing the point), what demonstration in Egypt ever stayed peaceful?
‘Everyone is subject to the law,’ repeated Mahmoud stubbornly. ‘Even the British,’ he said sternly.
It gave Owen an opportunity.
‘About those complaints…’ he said.
‘Complaints?’
‘Those bloody fools in the café the other night.’
‘There was more than one complaint?’
‘Oh, yes. Not that it matters, now that they’ve both been withdrawn.’
‘Withdrawn? I didn’t know that the complaint had been withdrawn.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Have you been leaning on them?’ said Mahmoud, his cheeks beginning to tauten.
‘I wouldn’t say leaning; it was more confused than that.’ He wondered whether he should tell Mahmoud about the two conversations.
‘Anyway, it is prejudicing the inquiry,’ said Mahmoud. ‘And that is interfering with the cause of justice.’
‘These people were pretty prejudiced already.’
Mahmoud was silent. He was used, of course, to this kind of situation. But it made him angry.
‘The investigation continues,’ he said coldly.
‘Even if the originating complaint is withdrawn?’
‘It’s on the files now. Besides, we don’t need a complaint. We can proceed without it. It was a clear breach of public order.’
‘No one’s denying that. It’s just a question of what’s the appropriate action. Is it a matter for the civil courts? Or for the military ones?’
This was a mistake, for Mahmoud knew a lot more about the law than he did.
‘Both,’ said Mahmoud. ‘However, what the Army does is no concern of mine. I do not have any say in it. Nor do I expect the Army to have any say in whether there is a civil prosecution or not.’
‘Not “say”,’ said Owen. ‘ “Request”, more like. The Army requests the Parquet to leave the action in this case to its authorities.’
‘Well, if it cares to put in a formal request… I shall oppose it, though the decision, in the end, will not be up to me. It will go to the Minister. And I daresay,’ said Mahmoud bitterly, ‘if you are wondering, that your Legal Adviser will be able to persuade the Minister, as usual, that it is not in his interests to allow the matter to proceed. But I,’ he added furiously, ‘shall lodge a complaint.’
‘That’s four,’ said Owen.
‘Four?’ said Mahmoud, startled.
‘One from you; one from Shearer—that’s that difficult Army captain; one from the Mingrelians, and one from the Russian Chargé.’
‘Is he in it?’
‘He was in it. Now he’s withdrawn. In view of the Grand Duke’s visit,’ he explained, thinking this might mollify Mahmoud.
‘Grand Duke?’ said Mahmoud.
Owen told him what he knew about Duke Nicholas’s visit. Mahmoud shrugged his shoulders.
‘Excuse me,’ said one of the young effendi at the next table, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing: this visit of the Russian Duke, what is its nature?’
‘Well, I gather the Khedive hopes to replicate an earlier visit, when the Duke’s uncle came to open the Suez Canal.’
‘Would you say it was cultural in purpose? Or political?’
‘Bit of both, I suppose. But cultural, mainly.’
‘There you are!’ The young man turned back triumphantly to his colleagues. ‘Cultural recognition leads to political recognition!’
‘What the earlier visit led to,’ said one of the young man’s colleagues, ‘was bankruptcy. And
that
led to the British taking
Mahmoud was a great legalist. He believed passionately in the law, which, of course, left him in rather an isolated position in Egypt. It even created difficulties for him as a Nationalist because, while it was easy enough to oppose the illegal British and the corrupt regime of the Pashas which had preceded it, he also opposed extra-legal action, such as violence. Peaceful demonstrations, he believed in; but then, as Owen frequently said to him (they spent many happy hours in cafés arguing the point), what demonstration in Egypt ever stayed peaceful?
‘Everyone is subject to the law,’ repeated Mahmoud stubbornly. ‘Even the British,’ he said sternly.
It gave Owen an opportunity.
‘About those complaints…’ he said.
‘Complaints?’
‘Those bloody fools in the café the other night.’
‘There was more than one complaint?’
‘Oh, yes. Not that it matters, now that they’ve both been withdrawn.’
‘Withdrawn? I didn’t know that the complaint had been withdrawn.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Have you been leaning on them?’ said Mahmoud, his cheeks beginning to tauten.
‘I wouldn’t say leaning; it was more confused than that.’ He wondered whether he should tell Mahmoud about the two conversations.
‘Anyway, it is prejudicing the inquiry,’ said Mahmoud. ‘And that is interfering with the cause of justice.’
‘These people were pretty prejudiced already.’
Mahmoud was silent. He was used, of course, to this kind of situation. But it made him angry.
‘The investigation continues,’ he said coldly.
‘Even if the originating complaint is withdrawn?’
‘It’s on the files now. Besides, we don’t need a complaint. We can proceed without it. It was a clear breach of public order.’
‘No one’s denying that. It’s just a question of what’s the appropriate action. Is it a matter for the civil courts? Or for the military ones?’
This was a mistake, for Mahmoud knew a lot more about the law than he did.
‘Both,’ said Mahmoud. ‘However, what the Army does is no concern of mine. I do not have any say in it. Nor do I expect the Army to have any say in whether there is a civil prosecution or not.’
‘Not “say”,’ said Owen. ‘ “Request”, more like. The Army requests the Parquet to leave the action in this case to its authorities.’
‘Well, if it cares to put in a formal request… I shall oppose it, though the decision, in the end, will not be up to me. It will go to the Minister. And I daresay,’ said Mahmoud bitterly, ‘if you are wondering, that your Legal Adviser will be able to persuade the Minister, as usual, that it is not in his interests to allow the matter to proceed. But I,’ he added furiously, ‘shall lodge a complaint.’
‘That’s four,’ said Owen.
‘Four?’ said Mahmoud, startled.
‘One from you; one from Shearer—that’s that difficult Army captain; one from the Mingrelians, and one from the Russian Chargé.’
‘Is he in it?’
‘He was in it. Now he’s withdrawn. In view of the Grand Duke’s visit,’ he explained, thinking this might mollify Mahmoud.
‘Grand Duke?’ said Mahmoud.
Owen told him what he knew about Duke Nicholas’s visit. Mahmoud shrugged his shoulders.
‘Excuse me,’ said one of the young effendi at the next table, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing: this visit of the Russian Duke, what is its nature?’
‘Well, I gather the Khedive hopes to replicate an earlier visit, when the Duke’s uncle came to open the Suez Canal.’
‘Would you say it was cultural in purpose? Or political?’
‘Bit of both, I suppose. But cultural, mainly.’
‘There you are!’ The young man turned back triumphantly to his colleagues. ‘Cultural recognition leads to political recognition!’
‘What the earlier visit led to,’ said one of the young man’s colleagues, ‘was bankruptcy. And
that
led to the British taking
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