Chapter 20: Damaged Goods

~Master, the Chief Eunuch began, grovelling on the floor before Derek in a way he had never seen, ~Oh, Master. Oh dear, Master. A tragedy, Master, and it is all the fault of that accursed son of a misbegotten camel, the auction room slave trader. Truly he should be thrown to the dogs to eat one piece at a time, starting with his manhood. Master, forgive me; he has never so deceived me before.~

"What is it?" asked Derek in irritation, "Stop whining, get up and tell me what has happened."

The eunuch remained where he was on the floor and mumbled, "The virgin appears not to be so."

"What?"

"Master. I understand that the aperture of the vagina may be opened without the presence of a male organ, but her pregnant condition implies the presence of something, be it man, machine or miracle," replied the Chief Eunuch, slowly rising to his feet, "And of those, my experience tends to rule out the intervention of any but a human penis in full working order with a man attached also in full working order."

"Oh," said Derek, "What can we do about it?"

"If the Master would but mention it to his friend the Emir, may he live for ever and have many sons, his Magnificence could..."

"No!" said Derek, "It is a small commercial problem. We simply return her and get our money back."

"This is not an affair of simply, Master. The accursed creature will undoubtedly claim she left his building a virgin and that someone has interfered with her since to achieve this impregnation. When we offer to refute that by tests of dates of conception and paternity, he will shift his argument to say that it is our fault, and that what you British call 'carve at empire' applies."

Derek was mystified by this last for some moments, then he laughed and said, "It was the Romans who coined that phrase; caveat emptor it is really. I suppose he would have a point. Do you think it would help if I went to see him?"

"If the Master would but use his motor car, that might impress the old flea infested warehouse owner mightily."

"I don't have a motor-car, you fool," said Derek, who had been trying to order one without success.

"Master, it sits in the garage awaiting your pleasure as do the driving experts, who attend your slightest desire for motion along the highway."

"You mean ... No, you can't. A chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce comes with the house?"

"Master, I believe it is an old one, but was the property of His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah, may he live for ever and have many sons."