The last groups broke and fled, harried by the horses.
Very expertly done, said the Greek.
A student darted in among the stalls and tables close by them, a rider in hot pursuit. The student threw himself on the ground behind a stack of chairs. The horse halted and the policeman leaned over and hit the student once or twice with his stick. Then he rode away.
The student got to his feet, panting and sobbing. He looked back across the Place and saw the line of foot policemen approaching. In a second he had shot off again.
He reminded Owen of a hare on the run, the same heaving sides, panicked eyes, even, with his turban gone and his shaven head, the hares laid-back ears.
Another student rushed along behind the row of deserted street-stalls. He brushed right past Owen and then doubled back up an alleyway.
That one! snapped Owen. Follow him! Find out where he goes!
Georgiades, the Greek, who was one of Owens best agents, was gone in a flash.
The student was Nuri Pashas secretary and son, the difficult Ahmed.
The tea-seller put the urn back on his stall with a thump. Without asking, he drew a glass of tea and handed it to Owen.
Watching, he said, is thirsty work.
The only students on the square now were walking in ones and twos, sometimes supporting a third. Around the edges of the square, though, the foot police were still in action, prising out the students from their hiding-places among the stalls and chairs. Owen was pleased to see that McPhee had them well in hand. It was only too easy for them to get out of control in a situation such as this.
McPhee, helmetless and with his fair hair all over the place, was plainly enjoying himself. His face was lit up with excitement. It was not that he was a violent man; he just loved, as he would have put it, a bit of a scrap. Strange, thought Owen, for he was a civilian, an ex-teacher. On second thoughts perhaps it was not so strange.
He was using a cane, not a pick-handle. He had a revolver at his waist but had not drawn it throughout the whole business, even when he had been threatened in the car.
He was driving slowly round the square now, ostensibly chivvying the students, in fact, Owen noted, calling off his men.
At the far side of the Place the Mounted Troop had reformed and was sitting at ease, the horses still excited and breathing heavily, pick-handles now hanging loosely again from the riders wrists.
Georgiades reappeared.
He spotted the tea-seller and came up to the stall.
Here is a man who deserves to be favoured of Fortune, he said, the first man back on the street with his tea.
I shall undoubtedly be rich, said the tea-seller, but not yet.
He made Georgiades some mint tea. The Greek took the glass and stood casually by Owen.
See how our friend is already rewarded! he said to Owen. Heads are the only thing damaged on the street today.
And my head not among them, said the tea-seller.
He took the lid off the urn, looked inside and went to fetch some more water.