Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (130 page)

‘Humph,’ said Emerson. But he said it more cheerfully than the first time.

The young woman said nothing. She walked between us with drooping head, but with steps that were firm and steady. I had to commend her quickness; she must be in considerable confusion as to what her precise status was supposed to be, but she had the good sense to keep quiet and say nothing that would challenge Emerson’s assumption.

Emerson is an ebullient person by nature; his fits of temper are brief, and as soon as they are over he immediately looks on the bright side. This was the case at the present moment. ‘Upon my word, Peabody, I am pleased about this,’ he declared. ‘In case Nemo does not suit, we have a substitute at hand. Miss Marshall surely can have no objection to giving us a hand with Ramses. It is remarkable how neatly things work out.’

‘I quite agree, Emerson. It is remarkable.’ In order to obtain tents, it would be necessary for me to make a trip to Cairo. I would then have an opportunity to make my inquiries into the murder of Kalenischeff. I had intended to do this all along, but now I had a reasonable excuse.

‘Quite remarkable,’ I said.

The shades of night were falling fast by the time we reached the compound. The men had retreated into their hut; despite their superior education, none of them remained outside in the darkness if he could help it, for, as every Egyptian knew, night was when the demons were out in full force. We found Ramses alone in the sitting room, except for his ever-present feline companion. He had been writing at the table, but it was clear that our approach had not gone unnoticed, for he pushed his writing materials aside when we entered and rose, with no sign of surprise.

‘Good evening, Mama; good evening, Papa; good evening, Miss–’

‘Where is Mr Nemo?’ I asked.

‘He was here a moment ago, I presume he has gone to his room.’ Ramses stepped forward, his hand extended. ‘We have not had the pleasure of meeting, I believe. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr Walter Peabody Emerson.’

‘More familiarly known as Ramses,’ said Emerson, laughing. ‘This is Miss Marshall, my boy. She is a distinguished archaeologist, so you must treat her with respect.’

‘Hardly distinguished, Professor,’ the girl said quickly. ‘I am the merest beginner. So this is your son. What a fine little chap!’

She took Ramses’ hand. A curl of the lip expressed Ramses’ opinion of her description; feeling my gaze fixed upon him, he kept that opinion to himself, saying instead, ‘I was unaware of your academic qualifications, miss. May I inquire at what learned institutions you have studied?’

‘No, you may not,’ I said. ‘Will you light the stove, Emerson? I am sure Miss Marshall would like a cup of tea. While the water is heating, I will show her to her room.’

‘I am afraid I am putting you to a great deal of trouble,’ the false Miss Marshall began. She broke off with a shriek and jumped back. The cat Bastet, who had been coiling her sinuous form around the girl’s ankle, emitted a reproachful mew and butted her furry head against one scuffed little boot.

‘It is only Ramses’ cat,’ I said.

‘The cat Bastet,’ Ramses elaborated. ‘She seems to have taken a fancy to you, miss. That is unusual, and in my opinion you should be flattered by the attention, for animals, as it is well known, have a sixth sense that gives them–’

‘Be quiet, Ramses,’ I said. The girl had raised a trembling hand to her brow, and I took the liberty of putting a supportive arm round her. ‘Miss Marshall is exhausted and can’t be bothered with your unorthodox theories. Come into the next room, my dear. When you see your accommodation, you won’t apologize for putting us out, I assure you.’

Only a curtain separated the small adjoining chamber from the sitting room, and thus far the sole furnishings were a few empty crates. I assisted the young lady to one of them and sat her down.

‘You will not be as comfortable here as in the sitting room,’ I said in a low voice. ‘But I could see your nerve was ready to give way, and believed you would be better alone.’

‘You are very good. Please don’t let me keep you from your family–’

‘Oh, I have no intention of leaving you,’ I took a seat on another crate. ‘There are a number of matters we must discuss without delay, if you expect to continue your masquerade.’

The room was illumined only by the moonlight. The girl had shrunk back into the darkest shadows, but I heard her gasp sharply. She made a valiant effort to recover herself. ‘What do you mean, Mrs Emerson?’

‘My husband, though the most intelligent man of my acquaintance, is singularly naive about some things,’ I said. ‘But surely you did not suppose you could deceive me, did you – Miss Debenham?’

For a few seconds the silence was unbroken even by the sound of her breathing. Then a long sigh quivered through the air. ‘I knew I could never sustain the deception, Mrs Emerson. I hoped only for a few days’ respite, in order to decide whether to cast myself upon your mercy or take flight again. When the professor assumed I was someone else, I felt Fate had approved my venture.’

Her voice was weary but calm, with no trace of the incipient hysteria it had displayed before. Obviously it was the strain of deceit that had unnerved her; her relief at finding herself free to speak candidly proved to me that she was essentially an honourable person.

‘You read my letter, then,’ I said.

‘Yes. I must admit, Mrs Emerson, that my first reaction upon reading it was anger. I am a very headstrong and stubborn person. I was overindulged by doting parents who made no attempt to curb my faults of character; I am impatient of criticism, and too set on having my own way. It is a grievous flaw–’

‘What one person terms “headstrong,” another may call “determined”. Strength of character is not a flaw. You sound as if you were quoting someone, Miss Debenham – no, excuse me, I must accustom myself to calling you Miss Marshall.’

‘Then – then you mean to allow me to continue my masquerade? You are willing to deceive your husband?’

‘Oh, as to that, I would never deliberately deceive Emerson. If he chooses to deceive himself, it would be tactless in the extreme for me to correct his misapprehension, particularly since there is a distinct possibility that in the heat of the moment he might be moved to rash actions and/or expressions he would later regret. But, much as I would enjoy discussing the complexities of matrimony, a subject about which I have decided opinions, we must not stay here too long or even my dear Emerson will begin to wonder why we continue to sit in the dark. And Ramses … I will warn you about Ramses in due time. First it is essential that you tell me, as briefly but accurately as possible, precisely what happened on the night of the murder.’

‘I dined with Prince Kalenischeff,’ the girl said quietly. ‘We went to see the moonlight over the pyramids–’

‘I saw you there. And afterwards?’

‘We returned to the hotel. The prince said good night to me at the door of my room–’

‘You did not invite him in?’

‘I suppose I deserve that,’ she said, after a moment. ‘No, Mrs Emerson, I did not.’

‘Continue, please, And be succinct.’

‘The safragi had given me your letter. I read it as I brushed my hair and, as I have said, I was angry–’

‘You may omit your emotional reactions except in so far as they have bearing on the events of that night.’

‘Thank you. I tossed the letter aside. I prepared for bed. I went to bed. I fell asleep. Much later something woke me. Perhaps it was the sound of the door opening, or footsteps. A dark form came into the field of my vision. I recognized the prince. He moved quietly toward the bed. I got out of the bed. I fell to the floor. I lost consciousness. When I awoke the first light of dawn was brightening the window and I saw the prince lying dead across the bed. I went to my wardrobe. I took out–’

‘Just a moment, if you please. I know I told you to be succinct, but that is carrying it a bit too far. Let us go back to your awakening in the middle of the night. How did you feel then? Alert and fully conscious, or unnaturally weak and drowsy?’

‘I had barely strength enough to roll off the bed, away from him. How did you know?’

‘I assume you were drugged, of course. Did you have anything to eat or drink before you retired?’

‘I drank from the water bottle on the bedside table. The dry air makes one so thirsty… .’

‘I thought so. Those damnable water bottles! One would think they had been invented for the convenience of burglars and murderers. Some kindly guardian angel roused you in time… . But it would not have mattered, you were never in any danger of
that
sort.

‘Kalenischeff was lured to your room by a message purporting to come from you. He had made advances to you? No, you need not answer, I felt sure he had; he was a vain man with an inordinately high opinion of his attraction for the opposite sex. He would not be suspicious of a request for an assignation.

‘The assassin was waiting for him. Fortunately for you, your awakening was brief and incomplete, for you were spared the horror of seeing Kalenischeff dispatched; and if you had seen the deed done, the murderer would have felt it necessary to dispose of you as well. Either you are unusually resistant to drugs or you did not drink much of the water; your guardian angel, still on active duty, again wakened you before you were meant to awaken. If matters had gone according to plan, you would have been discovered with the dead body of your presumed lover, and would have been placed under arrest. As it was, you had time to dress and creep out of the hotel unseen. The safragi had been bribed to leave his post, possibly by Kalenischeff himself. It was early morning, and if you avoided the public rooms, few people would see you, or recognize the frivolous, fashionable Miss Debenham in the costume you are presently wearing. You then went into hiding – never mind where, you can tell me about it later – and, remembering my offer of assistance, you determined to seek me out. I commend you on your presence of mind, Miss Marshall. Few women would have had the strength of character to behave so sensibly after such a frightful shock. Thank you. You told your story very nicely.’

‘But – but –’

‘Hush. We have not time for more.’

I was correct. A sound behind the curtain preceded by no more than a few seconds the appearance of Ramses. ‘Papa wishes me to tell you that the water has boiled. He also wishes to know what – I omit the qualifying phrase, since it is one you have specifically forbidden me to repeat – what you are doing in here without a chair or a table or a lamp. I confess that my own curiosity on that point–’

‘Will probably never be satisfied,’ I said, rising. I permitted myself that small jest, since I was in excellent humour. Matters were working out nicely. ‘We are coming, Ramses.’

The girl caught my hand. ‘But, Mrs Emerson,’ she whispered. ‘What am I to do? You believe me–’

‘Yes.’

‘How can you trust me? You don’t even know me!’

‘It is very simple,’ I murmured. ‘I know who the murderer really is.’

‘What?’ Her cry rang out. Ramses turned. Silhouetted against the light from the adjoining room, his thin limbs and mop of hair, and the inquiring tilt of his head, made him look exactly like an oversized vulture.

‘Later,’ I hissed, and escorted Miss Marshall to the chair Emerson had set for her, and the cup of stewed tea he had prepared. Emerson’s talents, though diverse, do not extend to the culinary arts.

Revising our sleeping arrangements was more complex than I had anticipated. I could not send Ramses up to sleep on the roof: he might decide to climb down the wall and go off on some peculiar errand of his own. Ramses seldom disobeyed a direct order, but he had a diabolical facility for finding a loophole in my commands.

Emerson and I could not sleep on the roof and leave the young lady and the young man down below. Emerson thought I was being uncharacteristically prudish, and said so at length. I did not bother to explain my true reasons, since they would have aggravated him even more. By a fortuitous combination of circumstances, Miss Marshall had eluded the Master Criminal. I could hardly leave her at the mercy of a man whom I strongly suspected of being the M.C.’s lieutenant.

The same objection applied to having Miss Marshall sleep on the roof. The only solution was for Emerson and me to place our mattresses in the sitting room which adjoined the small chamber I had assigned to Miss Marshall. No one could reach her without stepping over our recumbent forms, for the only doorway opened out of the sitting room, and the window was too narrow to permit anyone to enter.

These arrangements were not concluded without a considerable amount of noise. Emerson is too well bred to swear in the presence of a lady, but his state of mind found expression in loud, broken ejaculations, and frequent cries of ‘Good Gad!’ My first concern was to get Enid settled as soon as possible; she was clearly on the verge of total collapse, a normal reaction for one finding sanctuary after hours of nervous strain and physical exertion. A camp cot and blankets, a lamp and basic toilet articles were easily supplied (for I always equip my expeditions adequately). Not until this was accomplished and Enid was tucked into bed did I realize I had seen nothing of Mr Nemo. A normally curious individual would have come out to see what was happening. I went to his room, but I knew in advance what I would find.