Read Crocodile on the Sandbank Online
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: #Historical fiction, #Detective and mystery stories, #Mystery fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Suspense, #Crime & mystery, #Political, #Women detectives - Egypt, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictious character), #Crime & Thriller, #Mummies, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictitious character), #Egyptology, #Cairo (Egypt), #Mystery, #Detective, #Women detectives, #Emerson, #Radcliffe (Fictitious character), #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Archaeologists' spouses, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Egypt, #Fiction - Mystery
Crocodile on the Sandbank (19 page)
Before us, the moonlight lay upon the tumbled desolation of sand that
had once been the brilliant capital of a pharaoh. For a moment I had a
vision; I seemed to see the ruined walls rise up again, the stately
villas in their green groves and gardens, the white walls of the
temples, adorned with brilliantly painted reliefs, the flash of
gold-tipped fiagstaffs, with crimson pennants flying the breeze. The
wide, tree-lined avenues were filled with a laughing throng of
white-clad worshipers, going to the temple, and before them all raced
the golden chariot of the king, drawn by matched pair of snow-white
horses. . . . Gone. All gone, into the dust to which we must all
descend when our hour comes.
"Well?" I said, shaking of my melancholy mood. "You promised me the
benefit of your advice. I await it breathlessly."
"What would you say to striking camp tomorrow?"
"Give up? Never!"
"Just what I would have expected an Englishwoman to say. Are you
willing to risk Miss Evelyn?"
"You think the Mummy has designs on her?"
"I am unwilling to commit myself as to its original intentions," said
Emerson pedantically. "But it seems clear that the Mummy is now
interested in her. I am afraid it is not attracted by your charms,
Peabody.
It must have known you were in the tent; I was watching, and I
thought for a time, seeing the walls
bulge and vibrate, that you would
have the whole structure down about your ears. What were you
doing— physical knee jerks?"
I decided to ignore his childish malice.
"I was looking for evidence of what had happened to Michael," I
explained. "I found this."
I showed him the crucifix, pointing out the break in the chain. He
looked grave.
"Careless of the attacker, to leave such a clue."
"You believe Michael was forcibly abducted?"
"I am inclined to think so."
"And you do nothing? A faithful follower— a helper we badly need— "
"What can I do?" Emerson inquired, reasonably enough. "One result of
these activities has been to keep us fully occupied; we have not had
time, or personnel, for retaliation; we can barely enact defensive
measures. I think Michael has not been harmed."
"I wish I could be so confident. Well, we can hardly match into the
village and demand that he be delivered up to us. What a pity we could
not apprehend the Mummy. We might have effected an exchange of
prisoners."
"We could do a great deal more than that if we had the Mummy," Emerson
replied. He tapped out his pipe and put it in his pocket. "It does seem
as if the stars are against us. Twice now we ought to have
had our
hands on it. But let us not waste time in vain regrets. I am concerned
for Miss Evelyn— "
"Do you suppose I am not? I think I must take her away. She might at
least sleep on the dahabeeyah, with the crew to guard her."
"The boat is only a few miles from here. Our mummified friend seems to
have excellent powers of locomotion."
I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dashed over me.
"It surely would not venture there! If its primary aim is to convince
you to quit the site— "
"I am not in a position to state, unequivocally, what the aim of an
animated mummy might be. But if that is its purpose, a serious threat
to Miss Evelyn might accomplish it. Do you suppose Walter would remain
here if he believed she was in danger?"
"Ah," I said. "So you have observed that."
"I am not blind, nor deaf, nor wholly insensible. I sense also that she
is not indifferent to him."
"And, of course, you disapprove."
"Why, Peabody, you know my mercenary nature. I need money for my
excavations. The aim is noble— to rescue knowledge from the
vandalism of man and time. Walter might make an advantageous marriage;
he is a handsome fellow, don't you think? You could hardly suppose I
would allow him to throw himself away on a penniless girl. Miss Evelyn
is penniless, is she not?"
As he spoke, in an insufferably sarcastic tone, I thought I detected a
faint smell of singeing cloth.
"She is penniless," I replied shortly.
"A pity," Emerson mused. "Well, but if she is not good enough for
Walter, she is too nice a child to be handed over to the Mummy. I
propose that we test our theory. Let her sleep tomorrow night on the
dehabeeyah, and—we will see what happens. You will have to use
trickery, Peabody, to induce her to stay there; she does not lack
courage, and will not willingly leave Walter. I suggest we propose an
expedition to the boat tomorrow, to fetch various necessities. I will
leave Abdullah to guard Walter— "
"Why not carry Walter with us? He would be better on the boat."
"I don't think we should risk moving him."
"Perhaps not. But to leave him here alone, with only Abdullah. ... He
is not the most reliable of guards.
I think he is increasingly fearful."
"Walter will only be alone for a few hours, in daylight. I will return
as soon as I have escorted you to the dahabeeyah. You must counterfeit
illness, or something, to keep Miss Evelyn there overnight."
"Yes, sir," I said. "And then?"
"Then you must remain on guard. I may be wrong; the Mummy may not come.
But if it does, you and you alone will be responsible for Miss Evelyn's
safety. Can you take on such a task?"
The smell of singeing cloth grew stronger. I have a very keen sense of
smell.
"Certainly I can."
"You had better take this," he said, and to my consternation, produced
the revolver he had taken from Lucas. I shrank back as
he offered it.
"No, don't be absurd! I have never handled firearms; I might injure
someone. I can manage without a gun, you may be sure."
"So you do admit to some weaknesses."
There was definitely a small curl of smoke issuing from the pocket in
which Emerson had placed his pipe. I had been about to point this out.
Instead I remarked, "I have said that I can manage without a weapon.
How many men can claim as much? Good night, Emerson. I accept your
plan. You need have no fear
of my failing in my role."
Emerson did not reply. A most peculiar expression had come over his
face. I watched him for a moment, relishing the situation with, I fear,
a malice most unbecoming a Christian woman.
"Your pocket is on fire," I added. "I thought when you put your pipe
away that it was not quite out, but you dislike advice so much ....
Good
night."
I went away, leaving Emerson dancing up and down in the moonlight,
beating at his pocket with both hands.
fever of infection had not appeared, and I was optimistic about his
prospects, so long as he did not aggravate the wound. I had only time
for
a quick exchange with Emerson that morning. We agreed that Walter
should not attempt the trip to the dahabeeyah.
So the scheme we had arranged was carried out. We had great difficulty
in persuading Evelyn to go, but finally she agreed, as she thought, to
a quick journey to and from the river. Glancing back, as our caravan
set form, I saw Abdullah squatting on the ledge, his knees up and his
turbaned head bowed. He looked like the spirit of an ancient scribe
brooding
over the desolate site of his former home.
The walk, through sand and under a broiling sun, was not an easy one.
It was with considerable relief that I made out the mast and furled
sails of the
Philae
, bobbing
gently at anchor. Beyond, I saw Lucas's
boat. It was called the
Cleopatra
.
If that famous queen was as fatally
lovely as history claims, her namesake did not live up to its model;
the
Cleopatra
was smaller
than the
Philae
and not
nearly so neat. As we
drew nearer I saw some members of the crew lounging about the deck;
they were as dirty and unkempt as their boat, and the sullen
indifference with which they watched us contrasted eloquently with the
enthusiastic welcome of my men. You would have thought we had returned
from the jaws of death instead of a place only four miles away. Reis
Hassan seemed to recognize Emerson; his white teeth gleamed in a smile
as their hands met, and the two fell into animated conversation.
I did not need to follow the rapid Arabic to know that Emerson's first
questions concerned our missing Michael; it had been my intention to
investigate that matter immediately if he had not. The reis's response
was equally intelligible— a firm negative.
And yet, despite my ignorance of the language, I felt there was
something hidden behind the captain's steady look and quick reply— some
reservation he did not care to state. I was ready, by that time, to
believe that everyone around me was party to the plot, but I knew
Hassan might be quite innocent and
yet not quite candid. He might be
concealing a shamed, fugitive Michael; he might have heard the tales
of
the villagers and be reluctant to confess his own fears.
Emerson's flashing glance at me indicated that he had similar doubts.
He turned back to the reis with a barrage of questions, but got little
satisfaction. Michael had not been seen. No doubt he had become bored,
or lonely for his family, as "these Christians" were wont to do, and
had deserted.
Emerson stamped impatiently as Hassan took his departure. He really did
behave like a spoiled child at times; but now I
could hardly blame him. He was on fire to return to Walter, and could
not waste more time in interrogation; when an Egyptian decides not to
speak, it requires a Grand Inquisitor to get a word out of him. Evelyn
had gone below to pack the articles that were our ostensible reason for
coming. Lucas had gone to his own dahabeeyah. Emerson and I stood alone
on the upper deck.
"I must get back," he muttered. "Peabody, all is not well. The crewmen
have been talking with the villagers. One of them has already run away,
and I think Hassan is doubtful of his ability to control the others.
Not that he would admit it— "
"I felt something was wrong. But you ought not to wait; I too am
apprehensive about Walter. Go."
"You will not forget what I have told you?"
"No."
"And you will act as I have directed?"
"Yes."
The sun on the upper deck was burning hot, with the awning rolled back.
Streaks of perspiration trickled down Emerson's face.
"The situation is intolerable," he exclaimed. "Amelia, swear to me that
you will do precisely what I said; you will not take foolish chances,
or expose yourself— "
"I have said I would. Don't you understand English?"
"Good God! You are the one who fails to understand; don't you realize
there is not another woman living whom I would— "
He broke off. From the far end of the deck Lucas approached, his hands
in his pockets, his lips pursed
in a whistle. The strains of "Rule,
Britannia" floated to my ears.
Emerson gave me a long, piercing look—a look that burned itself into my
brain. Without another word
he turned and vanished down the ladder to
the lower deck.
I could not face Lucas just then. I followed Emerson. He was out of
sight by the time I reached the lower deck, so I went on down, into the
area where the cabins were located. My cheeks
were tingling; I felt a foolish desire to imitate Lucas's whistling. It
had been very hot on the upper deck; even those few moments had burned
my face so that it felt warm and flushed.
In a narrow, dark corridor I ran full tilt into Evelyn.
"Amelia," she cried, clutching my arm. "I have just seen Mr. Emerson
from my window. He is leaving—he is on his way back, without us. Stop
him, pray do; I must go back— "
With a start of repugnance I remembered the role I must play.
Evelyn was trying to brush past me.
I put my hands on her arms and
leaned heavily against her.
"I am feeling ill," I muttered. "I really think I must lie down..."
Evelyn responded as I had known she would. She assisted me to my cabin
and helped me loosen my dress. I pretended to be faint; I am afraid I
did not do a convincing job of it, what with shame at betraying her
trust and the odd exhilaration that bubbled inside me; but poor Evelyn
never suspected me of false dealing. She worked assiduously to restore
me; indeed, she waved the smelling salts so ardently under
my nose that
I went into a fit of sneezing.
"Leave off, do," I exclaimed between paroxysms. "My head will fly off
in a moment!"
"You are better," Evelyn said eagerly. "That was your old strong voice.
Are you better, Amelia? Dare
I leave you for a moment? I will run after
Mr. Emerson and tell him to wait— "
I fell back on the pillow with a heartrending groan.
"I cannot walk, Evelyn. I think—I think I must stay here tonight. Of
course," I added craftily, "if you
feel you must go—and leave me here
alone—I will not try to keep you..."
I closed my eyes, but I watched Evelyn through my lashes. The struggle
on the girl's face made me feel like Judas. Almost I weakened. Then I
remembered Emerson's look, and his words. "There is not another woman
alive whom I would— "
What had he meant to say? "Whom I would trust, as I am trusting in your
strength and courage?" Would the sentence, interrupted by Lucas, have
ended in some such wise? If so— and there could hardly be any other
meaning— it was an accolade I could not fail to deserve. The triumph of
converting that arrogant misogynist into an admission that Woman, as
represented by my humble self, had admirable qualities.... No, I
thought, if I must choose between Evelyn or Emerson— or rather, between
Evelyn and my own principles— I must betray Evelyn. It was for her own
good.
Still, I felt rather uncomfortable, as I watched her fight I her silent
battle. Her hands were pressed so tightly together that the knuckles
showed white, but when she spoke her voice was resigned.
"Of course I will stay with you, Amelia. How could you I suppose I
would do otherwise? Perhaps a
quiet night's sleep j will restore you."
"I am sure it will," I mumbled, unable to deny the girl that much
comfort. Little did she know what
sort of night I half expected!
I ought to have stayed in my bed, refusing food, to carry out my
performance; but as the day went on, I began to be perfectly ravenous.
Darkness fell, and I felt I was safe; not even Evelyn would insist that
we make the journey by night. So I admitted to feeling a little better,
and agreed that nourishment would do me good. I had a frightful time
trying to pick at the food and not bolt it down like a laborer. The cook
had outdone himself, as if in celebration of our return, and Lucas had
fetched several bottles of champagne from his dahabeeyah.
He was attired in evening dress; the austere black and white became his
sturdy body and handsome face very well.
He had become exceedingly tanned. I felt as if he ought to be wearing
the crimson sashes and orders of some exotic foreign emissary, or even
the gold-embroidered robes of a Bedouin sheik.
We dined on the upper deck. The canopy had been rolled back, and the
great vault of heaven, spangled with stars, formed a roof finer than
any oriental palace could boast. As we sipped our soup, a feeling of
unreality swept over me. It was as if the preceding week had never
happened. This was a night like the first nights on the dahabeeyah,
surrounded by the sights and sounds and olfactory sensations that had
so quickly become dear and familiar. The soft lapping of the water
against the prow and the gentle sway of the boat; the liquid voices of
the crewmen down below, as mellow and wordless as music to our
untrained ears; the balmy night breeze, carrying the homely scents of
burning charcoal and pitch and unwashed Egyptian; and under them all
the indefinable, austere perfume of the desert itself. I knew I would
never
be free of its enchantment, never cease to desire it after it was
gone. And although the strange events of past days seemed remote and
dreamlike, I knew that in some indefinable way they had heightened the
enjoyment of the journey, given it a sharp tang of danger and adventure.
Lucas was drinking too much. I must admit he held his wine like a
gentleman; his speech did not become slurred nor his movements
unsteady. Only his eyes showed the effect, becoming larger and more
brilliant as the evening wore on; and his conversation became, if
possible, quicker and more fantastical. One moment he declared his
intention of returning to the camp, for fear of missing another
encounter with the mummy; the next moment he was ridiculing the whole
affair— the Emerson brothers, their shabby way of life, the absurdity
of
spending the years of youth grubbing for broken pots— and declaring his
intention to move on to the luxuries of Luxor and the glories of Thebes.
Evelyn sat like a pale statue, unresponsive to the jeers or to the
increasingly soft glances her cousin directed at her. She had not
dressed for dinner, but was wearing a simple morning frock, a faded
pink lawn sprigged with tiny rosebuds.
Lucas kept looking at the gown; finally he burst out, "I don't mean to
criticize your choice of costume, Cousin, but I yearn to see you in
something becoming your beauty and your station. Since that first night
in Cairo I have not seen you wear a gown that suited you. What a pity I
could not bring your boxes with me!"
"You are too conscientious, Lucas," Evelyn replied. "It may relieve you
to know that I am not looking forward to unpacking those boxes. I shall
never wear the gowns again; their elegance would remind me too
painfully of Grandfather's generosity."
"When we return to Cairo we will burn them unopened," Lucas declared
extravagantly. "A grand auto-da-fe of the past! I want to supply you
with a wardrobe fitting your station, my dear Evelyn— with garments
that
will have no painful memories associated with them."
Evelyn smiled, but her eyes were sad.
"I have the wardrobe befitting my station," she replied, with a loving
glance at me. "But we cannot destroy the past, Lucas, nor yield to
weakness. No; fortified by my faith as a Christian, I will look over
Grandfather's gifts in solitude. There are trinkets, mementos I cannot
part with; I will keep them to remind me of my errors. Not in any
spirit of self-flagellation," she added, with another affectionate look
at me. "I have too much to be thankful for to indulge in that error."
"Spoken like an Englishwoman and a Christian," I exclaimed "But indeed,
I have difficulty in hearing
you speak, Evelyn; what is going on down
below? The men are making a great deal of noise."
I spoke in part to change a subject that was clearly painful to Evelyn,
but I was right; for some time the soft murmur of voices from the deck
below had been gradually increasing in volume. The sound was not angry
or alarming; there was considerable laughter and some unorganized
singing.
Lucas smiled. "They are celebrating your return. I ordered a ration of
whiskey to be served out. A few
of them refused, on religious grounds;
but the majority seem willing to forget the admonitions of the Prophet
for one night. Moslems are very much like Christians in some ways."
"You ought not to have done that," I said severely. "We ought to
strengthen the principles of these poor people, not corrupt them with
our civilized vices."
"There is nothing vicious about a glass of wine," Lucas protested.
"Well, you have had enough," I said, removing the bottle as he reached
for it. "Kindly recall, my lord,
that our friends at the camp are still
in danger. If we should receive a distress signal in the night— "
Evelyn let out a cry of alarm, and Lucas glared at me.
"Your friend Emerson would not call for help if he were being burned at
the stake," he said, with a sneer that robbed the statement of any
complimentary effect. "Why do you frighten Evelyn unnecessarily?"
"I am not frightened," Evelyn said. "And I agree with Amelia. Please,
Lucas, don't drink any more."
"Your slightest wish is my command," said Lucas softly.
But I feared the request had come too late. Lucas had already taken
more than was good for him.
Soon after this Evelyn pleaded fatigue and suggested that I too retire,
in order to build up my strength. The reminder came at an opportune
time, for I had forgotten I was supposed to be ailing. I sent her to
her cabin and then called the reis; the noise from below was now so
great that I was afraid Evelyn would not be able to sleep. Hassan, at
least, showed no signs of inebriation, but I had a hard time
communicating with him, for, of course, he spoke very little English.
How I missed our devoted Michael! Eventually I got the reis to
understand that we were retiring, and we wished the noise kept down. He
bowed and retired; shortly thereafter the voices did drop in tone.
had once been the brilliant capital of a pharaoh. For a moment I had a
vision; I seemed to see the ruined walls rise up again, the stately
villas in their green groves and gardens, the white walls of the
temples, adorned with brilliantly painted reliefs, the flash of
gold-tipped fiagstaffs, with crimson pennants flying the breeze. The
wide, tree-lined avenues were filled with a laughing throng of
white-clad worshipers, going to the temple, and before them all raced
the golden chariot of the king, drawn by matched pair of snow-white
horses. . . . Gone. All gone, into the dust to which we must all
descend when our hour comes.
"Well?" I said, shaking of my melancholy mood. "You promised me the
benefit of your advice. I await it breathlessly."
"What would you say to striking camp tomorrow?"
"Give up? Never!"
"Just what I would have expected an Englishwoman to say. Are you
willing to risk Miss Evelyn?"
"You think the Mummy has designs on her?"
"I am unwilling to commit myself as to its original intentions," said
Emerson pedantically. "But it seems clear that the Mummy is now
interested in her. I am afraid it is not attracted by your charms,
Peabody.
It must have known you were in the tent; I was watching, and I
thought for a time, seeing the walls
bulge and vibrate, that you would
have the whole structure down about your ears. What were you
doing— physical knee jerks?"
I decided to ignore his childish malice.
"I was looking for evidence of what had happened to Michael," I
explained. "I found this."
I showed him the crucifix, pointing out the break in the chain. He
looked grave.
"Careless of the attacker, to leave such a clue."
"You believe Michael was forcibly abducted?"
"I am inclined to think so."
"And you do nothing? A faithful follower— a helper we badly need— "
"What can I do?" Emerson inquired, reasonably enough. "One result of
these activities has been to keep us fully occupied; we have not had
time, or personnel, for retaliation; we can barely enact defensive
measures. I think Michael has not been harmed."
"I wish I could be so confident. Well, we can hardly match into the
village and demand that he be delivered up to us. What a pity we could
not apprehend the Mummy. We might have effected an exchange of
prisoners."
"We could do a great deal more than that if we had the Mummy," Emerson
replied. He tapped out his pipe and put it in his pocket. "It does seem
as if the stars are against us. Twice now we ought to have
had our
hands on it. But let us not waste time in vain regrets. I am concerned
for Miss Evelyn— "
"Do you suppose I am not? I think I must take her away. She might at
least sleep on the dahabeeyah, with the crew to guard her."
"The boat is only a few miles from here. Our mummified friend seems to
have excellent powers of locomotion."
I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dashed over me.
"It surely would not venture there! If its primary aim is to convince
you to quit the site— "
"I am not in a position to state, unequivocally, what the aim of an
animated mummy might be. But if that is its purpose, a serious threat
to Miss Evelyn might accomplish it. Do you suppose Walter would remain
here if he believed she was in danger?"
"Ah," I said. "So you have observed that."
"I am not blind, nor deaf, nor wholly insensible. I sense also that she
is not indifferent to him."
"And, of course, you disapprove."
"Why, Peabody, you know my mercenary nature. I need money for my
excavations. The aim is noble— to rescue knowledge from the
vandalism of man and time. Walter might make an advantageous marriage;
he is a handsome fellow, don't you think? You could hardly suppose I
would allow him to throw himself away on a penniless girl. Miss Evelyn
is penniless, is she not?"
As he spoke, in an insufferably sarcastic tone, I thought I detected a
faint smell of singeing cloth.
"She is penniless," I replied shortly.
"A pity," Emerson mused. "Well, but if she is not good enough for
Walter, she is too nice a child to be handed over to the Mummy. I
propose that we test our theory. Let her sleep tomorrow night on the
dehabeeyah, and—we will see what happens. You will have to use
trickery, Peabody, to induce her to stay there; she does not lack
courage, and will not willingly leave Walter. I suggest we propose an
expedition to the boat tomorrow, to fetch various necessities. I will
leave Abdullah to guard Walter— "
"Why not carry Walter with us? He would be better on the boat."
"I don't think we should risk moving him."
"Perhaps not. But to leave him here alone, with only Abdullah. ... He
is not the most reliable of guards.
I think he is increasingly fearful."
"Walter will only be alone for a few hours, in daylight. I will return
as soon as I have escorted you to the dahabeeyah. You must counterfeit
illness, or something, to keep Miss Evelyn there overnight."
"Yes, sir," I said. "And then?"
"Then you must remain on guard. I may be wrong; the Mummy may not come.
But if it does, you and you alone will be responsible for Miss Evelyn's
safety. Can you take on such a task?"
The smell of singeing cloth grew stronger. I have a very keen sense of
smell.
"Certainly I can."
"You had better take this," he said, and to my consternation, produced
the revolver he had taken from Lucas. I shrank back as
he offered it.
"No, don't be absurd! I have never handled firearms; I might injure
someone. I can manage without a gun, you may be sure."
"So you do admit to some weaknesses."
There was definitely a small curl of smoke issuing from the pocket in
which Emerson had placed his pipe. I had been about to point this out.
Instead I remarked, "I have said that I can manage without a weapon.
How many men can claim as much? Good night, Emerson. I accept your
plan. You need have no fear
of my failing in my role."
Emerson did not reply. A most peculiar expression had come over his
face. I watched him for a moment, relishing the situation with, I fear,
a malice most unbecoming a Christian woman.
"Your pocket is on fire," I added. "I thought when you put your pipe
away that it was not quite out, but you dislike advice so much ....
Good
night."
I went away, leaving Emerson dancing up and down in the moonlight,
beating at his pocket with both hands.
* * *
To my infinite relief, Walter was better next morning. The dreadedfever of infection had not appeared, and I was optimistic about his
prospects, so long as he did not aggravate the wound. I had only time
for
a quick exchange with Emerson that morning. We agreed that Walter
should not attempt the trip to the dahabeeyah.
So the scheme we had arranged was carried out. We had great difficulty
in persuading Evelyn to go, but finally she agreed, as she thought, to
a quick journey to and from the river. Glancing back, as our caravan
set form, I saw Abdullah squatting on the ledge, his knees up and his
turbaned head bowed. He looked like the spirit of an ancient scribe
brooding
over the desolate site of his former home.
The walk, through sand and under a broiling sun, was not an easy one.
It was with considerable relief that I made out the mast and furled
sails of the
Philae
, bobbing
gently at anchor. Beyond, I saw Lucas's
boat. It was called the
Cleopatra
.
If that famous queen was as fatally
lovely as history claims, her namesake did not live up to its model;
the
Cleopatra
was smaller
than the
Philae
and not
nearly so neat. As we
drew nearer I saw some members of the crew lounging about the deck;
they were as dirty and unkempt as their boat, and the sullen
indifference with which they watched us contrasted eloquently with the
enthusiastic welcome of my men. You would have thought we had returned
from the jaws of death instead of a place only four miles away. Reis
Hassan seemed to recognize Emerson; his white teeth gleamed in a smile
as their hands met, and the two fell into animated conversation.
I did not need to follow the rapid Arabic to know that Emerson's first
questions concerned our missing Michael; it had been my intention to
investigate that matter immediately if he had not. The reis's response
was equally intelligible— a firm negative.
And yet, despite my ignorance of the language, I felt there was
something hidden behind the captain's steady look and quick reply— some
reservation he did not care to state. I was ready, by that time, to
believe that everyone around me was party to the plot, but I knew
Hassan might be quite innocent and
yet not quite candid. He might be
concealing a shamed, fugitive Michael; he might have heard the tales
of
the villagers and be reluctant to confess his own fears.
Emerson's flashing glance at me indicated that he had similar doubts.
He turned back to the reis with a barrage of questions, but got little
satisfaction. Michael had not been seen. No doubt he had become bored,
or lonely for his family, as "these Christians" were wont to do, and
had deserted.
Emerson stamped impatiently as Hassan took his departure. He really did
behave like a spoiled child at times; but now I
could hardly blame him. He was on fire to return to Walter, and could
not waste more time in interrogation; when an Egyptian decides not to
speak, it requires a Grand Inquisitor to get a word out of him. Evelyn
had gone below to pack the articles that were our ostensible reason for
coming. Lucas had gone to his own dahabeeyah. Emerson and I stood alone
on the upper deck.
"I must get back," he muttered. "Peabody, all is not well. The crewmen
have been talking with the villagers. One of them has already run away,
and I think Hassan is doubtful of his ability to control the others.
Not that he would admit it— "
"I felt something was wrong. But you ought not to wait; I too am
apprehensive about Walter. Go."
"You will not forget what I have told you?"
"No."
"And you will act as I have directed?"
"Yes."
The sun on the upper deck was burning hot, with the awning rolled back.
Streaks of perspiration trickled down Emerson's face.
"The situation is intolerable," he exclaimed. "Amelia, swear to me that
you will do precisely what I said; you will not take foolish chances,
or expose yourself— "
"I have said I would. Don't you understand English?"
"Good God! You are the one who fails to understand; don't you realize
there is not another woman living whom I would— "
He broke off. From the far end of the deck Lucas approached, his hands
in his pockets, his lips pursed
in a whistle. The strains of "Rule,
Britannia" floated to my ears.
Emerson gave me a long, piercing look—a look that burned itself into my
brain. Without another word
he turned and vanished down the ladder to
the lower deck.
I could not face Lucas just then. I followed Emerson. He was out of
sight by the time I reached the lower deck, so I went on down, into the
area where the cabins were located. My cheeks
were tingling; I felt a foolish desire to imitate Lucas's whistling. It
had been very hot on the upper deck; even those few moments had burned
my face so that it felt warm and flushed.
In a narrow, dark corridor I ran full tilt into Evelyn.
"Amelia," she cried, clutching my arm. "I have just seen Mr. Emerson
from my window. He is leaving—he is on his way back, without us. Stop
him, pray do; I must go back— "
With a start of repugnance I remembered the role I must play.
Evelyn was trying to brush past me.
I put my hands on her arms and
leaned heavily against her.
"I am feeling ill," I muttered. "I really think I must lie down..."
Evelyn responded as I had known she would. She assisted me to my cabin
and helped me loosen my dress. I pretended to be faint; I am afraid I
did not do a convincing job of it, what with shame at betraying her
trust and the odd exhilaration that bubbled inside me; but poor Evelyn
never suspected me of false dealing. She worked assiduously to restore
me; indeed, she waved the smelling salts so ardently under
my nose that
I went into a fit of sneezing.
"Leave off, do," I exclaimed between paroxysms. "My head will fly off
in a moment!"
"You are better," Evelyn said eagerly. "That was your old strong voice.
Are you better, Amelia? Dare
I leave you for a moment? I will run after
Mr. Emerson and tell him to wait— "
I fell back on the pillow with a heartrending groan.
"I cannot walk, Evelyn. I think—I think I must stay here tonight. Of
course," I added craftily, "if you
feel you must go—and leave me here
alone—I will not try to keep you..."
I closed my eyes, but I watched Evelyn through my lashes. The struggle
on the girl's face made me feel like Judas. Almost I weakened. Then I
remembered Emerson's look, and his words. "There is not another woman
alive whom I would— "
What had he meant to say? "Whom I would trust, as I am trusting in your
strength and courage?" Would the sentence, interrupted by Lucas, have
ended in some such wise? If so— and there could hardly be any other
meaning— it was an accolade I could not fail to deserve. The triumph of
converting that arrogant misogynist into an admission that Woman, as
represented by my humble self, had admirable qualities.... No, I
thought, if I must choose between Evelyn or Emerson— or rather, between
Evelyn and my own principles— I must betray Evelyn. It was for her own
good.
Still, I felt rather uncomfortable, as I watched her fight I her silent
battle. Her hands were pressed so tightly together that the knuckles
showed white, but when she spoke her voice was resigned.
"Of course I will stay with you, Amelia. How could you I suppose I
would do otherwise? Perhaps a
quiet night's sleep j will restore you."
"I am sure it will," I mumbled, unable to deny the girl that much
comfort. Little did she know what
sort of night I half expected!
I ought to have stayed in my bed, refusing food, to carry out my
performance; but as the day went on, I began to be perfectly ravenous.
Darkness fell, and I felt I was safe; not even Evelyn would insist that
we make the journey by night. So I admitted to feeling a little better,
and agreed that nourishment would do me good. I had a frightful time
trying to pick at the food and not bolt it down like a laborer. The cook
had outdone himself, as if in celebration of our return, and Lucas had
fetched several bottles of champagne from his dahabeeyah.
He was attired in evening dress; the austere black and white became his
sturdy body and handsome face very well.
He had become exceedingly tanned. I felt as if he ought to be wearing
the crimson sashes and orders of some exotic foreign emissary, or even
the gold-embroidered robes of a Bedouin sheik.
We dined on the upper deck. The canopy had been rolled back, and the
great vault of heaven, spangled with stars, formed a roof finer than
any oriental palace could boast. As we sipped our soup, a feeling of
unreality swept over me. It was as if the preceding week had never
happened. This was a night like the first nights on the dahabeeyah,
surrounded by the sights and sounds and olfactory sensations that had
so quickly become dear and familiar. The soft lapping of the water
against the prow and the gentle sway of the boat; the liquid voices of
the crewmen down below, as mellow and wordless as music to our
untrained ears; the balmy night breeze, carrying the homely scents of
burning charcoal and pitch and unwashed Egyptian; and under them all
the indefinable, austere perfume of the desert itself. I knew I would
never
be free of its enchantment, never cease to desire it after it was
gone. And although the strange events of past days seemed remote and
dreamlike, I knew that in some indefinable way they had heightened the
enjoyment of the journey, given it a sharp tang of danger and adventure.
Lucas was drinking too much. I must admit he held his wine like a
gentleman; his speech did not become slurred nor his movements
unsteady. Only his eyes showed the effect, becoming larger and more
brilliant as the evening wore on; and his conversation became, if
possible, quicker and more fantastical. One moment he declared his
intention of returning to the camp, for fear of missing another
encounter with the mummy; the next moment he was ridiculing the whole
affair— the Emerson brothers, their shabby way of life, the absurdity
of
spending the years of youth grubbing for broken pots— and declaring his
intention to move on to the luxuries of Luxor and the glories of Thebes.
Evelyn sat like a pale statue, unresponsive to the jeers or to the
increasingly soft glances her cousin directed at her. She had not
dressed for dinner, but was wearing a simple morning frock, a faded
pink lawn sprigged with tiny rosebuds.
Lucas kept looking at the gown; finally he burst out, "I don't mean to
criticize your choice of costume, Cousin, but I yearn to see you in
something becoming your beauty and your station. Since that first night
in Cairo I have not seen you wear a gown that suited you. What a pity I
could not bring your boxes with me!"
"You are too conscientious, Lucas," Evelyn replied. "It may relieve you
to know that I am not looking forward to unpacking those boxes. I shall
never wear the gowns again; their elegance would remind me too
painfully of Grandfather's generosity."
"When we return to Cairo we will burn them unopened," Lucas declared
extravagantly. "A grand auto-da-fe of the past! I want to supply you
with a wardrobe fitting your station, my dear Evelyn— with garments
that
will have no painful memories associated with them."
Evelyn smiled, but her eyes were sad.
"I have the wardrobe befitting my station," she replied, with a loving
glance at me. "But we cannot destroy the past, Lucas, nor yield to
weakness. No; fortified by my faith as a Christian, I will look over
Grandfather's gifts in solitude. There are trinkets, mementos I cannot
part with; I will keep them to remind me of my errors. Not in any
spirit of self-flagellation," she added, with another affectionate look
at me. "I have too much to be thankful for to indulge in that error."
"Spoken like an Englishwoman and a Christian," I exclaimed "But indeed,
I have difficulty in hearing
you speak, Evelyn; what is going on down
below? The men are making a great deal of noise."
I spoke in part to change a subject that was clearly painful to Evelyn,
but I was right; for some time the soft murmur of voices from the deck
below had been gradually increasing in volume. The sound was not angry
or alarming; there was considerable laughter and some unorganized
singing.
Lucas smiled. "They are celebrating your return. I ordered a ration of
whiskey to be served out. A few
of them refused, on religious grounds;
but the majority seem willing to forget the admonitions of the Prophet
for one night. Moslems are very much like Christians in some ways."
"You ought not to have done that," I said severely. "We ought to
strengthen the principles of these poor people, not corrupt them with
our civilized vices."
"There is nothing vicious about a glass of wine," Lucas protested.
"Well, you have had enough," I said, removing the bottle as he reached
for it. "Kindly recall, my lord,
that our friends at the camp are still
in danger. If we should receive a distress signal in the night— "
Evelyn let out a cry of alarm, and Lucas glared at me.
"Your friend Emerson would not call for help if he were being burned at
the stake," he said, with a sneer that robbed the statement of any
complimentary effect. "Why do you frighten Evelyn unnecessarily?"
"I am not frightened," Evelyn said. "And I agree with Amelia. Please,
Lucas, don't drink any more."
"Your slightest wish is my command," said Lucas softly.
But I feared the request had come too late. Lucas had already taken
more than was good for him.
Soon after this Evelyn pleaded fatigue and suggested that I too retire,
in order to build up my strength. The reminder came at an opportune
time, for I had forgotten I was supposed to be ailing. I sent her to
her cabin and then called the reis; the noise from below was now so
great that I was afraid Evelyn would not be able to sleep. Hassan, at
least, showed no signs of inebriation, but I had a hard time
communicating with him, for, of course, he spoke very little English.
How I missed our devoted Michael! Eventually I got the reis to
understand that we were retiring, and we wished the noise kept down. He
bowed and retired; shortly thereafter the voices did drop in tone.
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