The Snake, The Crocodile, And The Dog Part 59

To my surprise Emerson was not- or at least he put up a good pretense of not being- surprised. If I must be candid, which I always endeavor to be (at least in the pages of this private journal), it was a relief to have her off my hands. How much of an obligation we owed her was questionable, if one balanced the evil against the good, I doubted the debt would have been in her favor. She was a woman and she had been much tried, but really, as I pointed out to Emerson, it would have been hard to find a suitable career for such a person.

"Hmmm," said Emerson, fingering the cleft in his chin. "I rather suspect, Peabody, that she has found a suitable career by herself"

He refused to elaborate on this enigmatic remark, so I did not pursue it for fear of provoking sentiments that might mar the activities I had planned for the remainder of the evening.

Thanks to the a.s.siduous a.s.sistance of Cyrus's steward, we were able to catch the afternoon train the following day He salaamed profoundly when we thanked him and bade him farewell, and I a.s.sured him that if he required a recommendation I would be happy to render him the praise his excellent service deserved. It was sad to say farewell to the Nefert.i.ti Nefert.i.ti. I doubted I would see her like again, for as I have said, such elegant sailing vessels were fading from the scene.

Emerson slept a good deal of the way, with Anubis curled up on the seat beside him. We appeared to have acquired another cat. The creature followed Emerson as devotedly as Bastet did Ramses, and I knew my husband's sentimental nature well enough to be certain he would not abandon the animal-especially when it showed him such flattering attention. Anubis's change of allegiance was not a sign of cold-blooded self-interest, it demonstrated an intelligent appreciation of Emerson's superior character. I wondered what Bastet would make of the newcomer. The possibilities were somewhat alarming.

But there was little room in my heart that day for dark forebodings. I had brought a book from Cyrus's excellent library, but I read very little, it was pleasure enough watching the rise and fall of my husband's breast, listening to his deep sonorous breathing, and occasionally yielding to the temptation to stroke the lines of weariness that yet marked his face. Whenever I did, Emerson would mutter "Cursed flies!" and swat at my hand. At such moments the happiness that filled me was well-nigh unendurable. Soon our loved ones at home would know the same happiness, we had dispatched telegrams early that morning with messages of undying affection and a.s.surances that all was well.

Night had spread her sable wings over the ancient city when we arrived. We hired a carriage to take us directly to the Castle. As it rattled away I looked back and saw, or thought I saw, a familiar form dart into the shadows. But no, I told myself, it could not have been. Kevin had left several hours before us, to catch the up-train to Cairo.

The carriage lamps shone dimly through the dark. The slow plodding of the horse's hooves formed a fitting accompaniment to my melancholy thoughts. It was difficult to imagine the Castle, in which Cyrus had taken such pride, without him Every room, every pa.s.sageway, would be haunted by a tall, kindly ghost. I fancied Emerson must feel the same, in respect for my feelings he remained thoughtfully silent, holding my hand in his.

I a.s.sumed Rene had notified the servants of our imminent arrival, and indeed we were greeted by the majordomo as welcome and expected guests. Bowing, he led the way, but when I realized where he was taking us, I stopped.

"I cannot face it, Emerson. Not the library- not tonight. We spent so many hours together in that room, his favorite . . ."

But Anubis had preceded us along the hall, and the servant threw the door open. The scent of smoke- the smoke of a fine cigar- reached my nostrils. From a deep leather chair near the long table, with its scattering of books and periodicals, a man rose. Cheroot, goatee, beautifully tailored linen suit...

It was the ghost of Cyrus Vandergelt, exactly as he had appeared in life.

I did not swoon. Emerson claims I did, but he is always trying to find evidence in me of what he calls "proper ladylike" behavior. It is true- and who can blame me?- that my knees gave way and a gray mist swirled before my eyes. When it cleared, I realized that I was seated on the sofa with Emerson slapping my hands and Cyrus bending over me, his goatee quivering with kindly concern.

"Oh, good Gad," I cried . . . But the Reader can well imagine the agitated iterations that escaped my lips in the course of the succeeding minutes. The warm clasp of Cyrus's hand a.s.sured me it was he, and not his apparition, the application of a mild stimulant restored my customary calm,- and before long we were busily satisfying our mutual curiosity.

Cyrus was thunderstruck to discover he was supposed to be deceased. "I only got here an hour ago,"

he exclaimed. "The servants told me you were expected, which was sure good news, but they didn't tell me I was dead. You'd think one of 'em would have mentioned it. How did I pa.s.s on?"

"First we had better hear your story," said Emerson, with an odd glance at me. "Where have you been for the past weeks?"

As I listened, a queer creeping feeling came over me. It was not the first time I had listened to such a tale.

"They s.n.a.t.c.hed me right after I got off the consarned train in Cairo," said Cyrus. "I felt a little jab in my arm- reckoned a mosquito bit me. Then everything went fuzzy. I remember a couple of fellows stuffing me in a carriage, and that was it, till I woke up in what looked like a luxury hotel- bedroom, bathroom, a fancy sitting room with overstuffed chairs and bookshelves. Only difference was, there weren't any handles on the doors."

He had been treated with perfect courtesy, he a.s.sured us. The food had been prepared by an excellent chef and served by servants who did everything for him except answer his questions.

"I was beginning to wonder if I'd spend the rest of my life there," Cyrus admitted. "I went to bed as usual last night- I guess it was last night- and if you can believe it, I woke up this morning in a first-cla.s.s compartment on the Cairo-to-Luxor express. I raised a commotion, as you might expect, the conductor grinned and leered at me and informed me I'd been a little under the weather when my friends put me on the train. They'd handed him my ticket, straight through to Luxor, so that was all right. Folks, I was in something of a daze, I tell you, but I decided I might as well come on here and then try to figure out what was going on. 1 have a feeling you can tell me."

"I have a feeling we can," said Emerson, glancing at me.

I was bereft of speech Visibly pleased at being the chosen narrator, Emerson launched into his tale.

Not a word, scarcely a breath, was heard until he finished.

"Aw, shucks!" Cyrus gasped. "I tell you flat out, Emerson, I wouldn't believe a yarn like that if anybody else had told it. I don't think I believe it anyhow. How could anybody fool you into thinking he was me? You've known me for years."

I had been studying Cyrus's lean, lined face. The years had not been as kind to my old friend as I had believed I ought to have known that trim, tall (but not so tall by several inches) body and that remarkably well-preserved face were not his. The goatee had not been his either! How relieved Sethos must have been to dispense with it.

Naturally I put the matter more tactfully. "We had not seen you for several of those years, Cyrus. His imitation of your speech and mannerisms was perfect, he is a natural mimic, and he had several days to study you, from hiding, before he left Cairo. His most useful weapon, however, was psychological. People see what they expect to see- what they have been told they are seeing. And once they have convinced themselves of that belief, no evidence to the contrary can persuade them they are wrong."

"Never mind the psychological mumbo-jumbo, Amelia," Emerson growled. "1 suppose, Vandergelt, you do not have individuals named Rene D'Arcy and Charles H. Holly on your staff?"

"Staff? I don't have one. Hoffman left me last year to work for the Egypt Exploration Fund. I was going to look for an a.s.sistant in Cairo There is a young fellow named Weigall- "

"No, no, he won't do," Emerson exclaimed. "He is not without ability, but his propensity for- "

"Emerson, please don't wander off the subject," I said. "Like Cyrus, I am finding this difficult to credit. Both those pleasant young men were lieutenants of ... of ..."

Emerson tried very hard to get the words out, but could not manage it. ". . . of the ... of the Master . . . Er- yes. We ought to have known they were not archaeologists. Holly's fear of heights was suspicious, and neither of them displayed the degree of knowledge they ought to have had, but there are few excavators who are worth a d.a.m.n these days. 1 don't know what the field is coming to, what with one thing and . . . Yes, Peabody, I know; I am wandering from the subject They were- er- his men, as I began to suspect when they hustled him away so precipitately. The crewmen of the dahabeeyah were hired, like the guards."

"Oh, dear," I murmured helplessly. "Cyrus- Emerson- I do hope you will forgive me, but I am quite beyond sensible thought at this moment. Perhaps we should all have a good night's sleep and discuss this further in the morning."

Cyrus was too much of a gentleman (in his rough-hewn American way) to resist such an appeal. a.s.suring me that the servants had our rooms prepared, he escorted me to the door. "It has been a busy day for all of us, and no mistake," he said. "Mrs. Amelia, my dear- I hope you believe that I would have been as anxious to serve you as that goldurned rascal appears to have been. Which reminds me- "

"That was what made his masquerade so convincing, Cyrus," I said. "That he acted as you would have done. My dear old friend, this day has brought one happy result. I am so glad, so very glad, that the reports of your death were greatly exaggerated."

As I had hoped, my little joke distracted him, and left him chuckling.

"Good work, Peabody," said Emerson, as we mounted the stairs arm in arm. "But you only postponed the inevitable. Between now and tomorrow morning we had better come up with a good explanation for Sethos's energetic activities for and against us."

"I am not certain I fully comprehend his motives myself," I admitted.

"Then you are either stupid, which I do not believe, or disingenuous, which is equally unlikely," said Emerson coldly. "Would you care to have me explain them?"

"Emerson, if you are going to pretend you knew all along that man was not Cyrus Vandergelt, I may ...

I may be forced to . . ."

I did not complete the sentence. Emerson had shut the door of our room behind us. Taking me into his arms, he held me close. It was a sacred moment- a silent but fervent reaffirmation of the vows we had made to one another on that blissful day when we two had become one.

One of the supreme moments in a woman's life must be when she hears from the lips of the man she loves, without prompting or even little hints, the precise words she secretly yearns to hear. (It is also, I believe, a rare occurrence.)

"I loved you from the first, Peabody," Emerson said, his voice m.u.f.fled against my hair. "Even before I remembered you. From the moment you dropped down from the ceiling brandis.h.i.+ng that pistol I knew you were the only woman for me- for even in trousers, my dear, your gender is unmistakeable. All those days I was like a man wandering in a mist, seeking something desperately desired . . ."

"But you did not know what it was," I murmured tenderly.

Emerson held me off at arm's length and scowled at me. "What do you take me for, a moonstruck schoolboy? Of course I knew what it was. Only there seemed no easy or honorable way to get it. For all I knew then, I did have a boring conventional wife and a dozen boring conventional children somewhere in the background. And you certainly did not behave like a conventional wife. Why the devil didn't you pound the truth into my head? Such restraint is not like you, Peabody"

"That was Herr Doktor Schadenfreude," I said. "He insisted . . ."

After I had explained, Emerson nodded. "Yes, I see. That fills in the last portion of the puzzle, I think. Shall I tell you how I reconstruct the story?

"To answer the question you asked some time ago- no, I did not know who the devil Vandergelt was.

I didn't know who the devil anyone was! As my memories returned I did not even question the fact that he seemed to have grown younger instead of older since I last saw him. I accepted him because you and the others did.

"I did not suspect him then, but long before that, while we were still in Cairo, I had begun to wonder if we had not been a.s.signed a personal guardian angel. Didn't it strike you as curious that we managed to escape so many unpleasant encounters because of the apparently fortuitous appearance of rescuers?

The first time, when you were carried off at the masked ball, I managed by sheer good luck . . . Well, if you insist, my dear Peabody, a certain amount of physical and mental agility on my part brought me back in time to retrieve you from your abductor. That was Vincey, of course. I presume you had informed all our archaeological acquaintances that we were attending the affair? It would not be difficult to search the suks and find the merchant from whom the famous Sitt Hakim had purchased articles of male attire.

"Our ensuing adventures began to a.s.sume quite a different complexion. The police official who led his men into a part of Cairo where the police never go, in time to drive off the hired thugs who had us cornered, the b.u.mbling young German archaeology student who fired a warning shot just when a workman- who could not be found afterward- tried to lure you away with promises of a tomb- which also failed to materialize, the fellow in the suk, who collapsed and was carried off by his 'friends'

- you didn't notice that, did you? I did, and it confirmed my feeling that we ought to get out of Cairo as soon as possible.

"Abdullah told me of the party of drunken young Americans who miraculously appeared on the scene in time to prevent you from being carried off the night Vincey snared me. It became apparent to me that there were two different parties interested in us. One was bent on taking one or both of us captive, he did not seem to care which. The other sought to ward off the attacker, but the fine timing of the incident in which I was taken prisoner indicated it was you alone the guardian angel cared about.