An Evil Eye

145

Both of them glanced at Yashim as he came in.

But when Tulin turned her head, she kept on turning. Her eyes swept glassily over the valide, over the little gun, over Yashim standing in the doorway, and then, without another sound, she subsided onto the floor.

Yashim sprang forward and the valide reached out, dangling the gun from a slender finger.

“Take it, Yashim. I won’t be needing it again tonight.”

Yashim took the gun mechanically. “She was going to kill you,” he said.

“ Incroyable. And with that pillow. You have to be firm, Yashim, as I have always said.”

Yashim glanced down at the dead girl.

The bullet had got her just above her eyes.

“I have spent a great deal of time with my vieux papa, these last few days, Yashim,” the valide said wearily. “Or is it weeks? Long ago, on Martinique, he taught me how to shoot. I suppose it’s one of those things you don’t forget.”

Yashim’s legs felt weak. He sat down on the divan. “Where did you get the gun?”

“I’ve had it for years, Yashim. The sultan gave it to me. My sultan, of course-Abdulhamid. I think it amused him to watch me shoot. He was rather a dear man, in many ways.” A filmy look came into her eyes; then she tossed her head, and said: “You can put it away now. The case is under the divan.”

The pistol case was made of red leather and bore the tughra of Sultan Abdulhamid on the lid. Inside was a yellow silk lining, and the pistol’s twin, nestling in its groove. It bore an English label: J. Purdey, London.

Yashim slotted the pistol back into its case and closed the lid.

“You might ask someone to take her away,” the valide said. “I’m feeling rather tired, and these days I prefer to sleep alone.”

Yashim stood up. “Of course, valide.”

“We’ll talk in the morning, Yashim.” She yawned. “I expect I’ll have… rather exciting dreams.”

He bowed.

And went to find the colonel of the halberdiers.