An Evil Eye

19

At the back of the shop was a curtain, and behind the curtain a flight of wooden steps.

At the top Yashim flipped the catch on the back window, pushed the casement, and vaulted out.

It wasn’t much of a drop, because the house was built into the slope. Dodging the laundry lines, he raced along the alley. It ended in a wall. There was a water butt against the wall, and Yashim was soon over the top.

He glanced back.

The elderly shopkeeper was leaning out of his window, shaking his fist, and someone-his pursuer-was trying to get past him. The shopkeeper turned and seemed to begin arguing.

Where Yashim’s wall touched the backs of the houses on the higher street there was a latticed window, without glass. Yashim aimed a kick at the casement catch.

It broke, and as the window swung inward Yashim followed headfirst.

The three women in the room were unveiled. Their sewing froze in their laps. They stared at Yashim openmouthed as he swept through, scattering apologies.

Downstairs he found the street door bolted from inside, and a moment later he was mingling with the morning crowd making its way toward the junction.

The cab was there, drawn up beneath the steps.

Yashim sprang onto the box and fished a coin from his belt.

“If you don’t mind,” he said, dropping the money into the driver’s palm, “we can take the ferenghis home together.”