Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (152 page)

‘Ramses.’

‘Yes, Mama?’

‘I would be indebted to you if you would endeavour to restrict your use of that phrase.’

‘What phrase, Mama?’

‘“In my opinion.”’

The cognac had restored Emerson’s powers of speech. He said hoarsely, ‘I am inclined to agree with your mama, Ramses, but let us leave that for the moment. Please proceed with your explanation.’

‘Yes, Papa. For in my … That is, I felt that although Father Todorus had been unable to
see
out of the windows, he had probably been able to
hear
out of them. Indeed, one of your own statements corroborated that assumption. Now while the agglomerate of sounds that might be called the ‘voice of the city’ is generally indistinctive – I refer to such sounds as the braying of donkeys, the calls of water sellers and vendors, the whining pleas of beggars, the–’

‘I observe with concern, Ramses, that you seem to be developing a literary, not to say poetic, turn of phrase. Writing verses and keeping a journal are excellent methods of expurgating those tendencies. Incorporating them into an explanatory narrative is not.’

‘Ah,’ said Ramses thoughtfully.

‘Please continue, Ramses,’ said his father. ‘And, my dearest son – be brief!’

‘Yes, Papa. There is one variety of auditory phenomena that is, in contrast to those I have mentioned (and others I was not allowed to mention), distinctive and differentiated. I refer, of course, to the calls of the muezzins of the mosques of Cairo. It occurred to me that Father Todorus, who had probably heard these calls ad nauseam, so to speak, day after day, might be able to distinguish between them and perhaps even recall their relative loudness and softness. I came, therefore, to attempt the experiment. By reproducing–’

‘Oh, good Gad!’ I cried out. ‘Ramses – have you been sitting here for over three hours repeating the
adan
in different voices and different tones? Emerson – as you know. I seldom succumb to weakness, but I must confess I feel – I feel rather faint.’

‘Have some cognac,’ said Emerson, handing me the cup. ‘Was the experiment a success, my son?’

‘To some extent, Papa. I believe I have narrowed the area down to one approximately a quarter of a mile square.’

‘I cannot believe this,’ I murmured, half to myself – entirely to myself as it turned out, for none of the others was listening.

‘It was very interesting,’ said Father Todorus, nodding like a wind-up toy. ‘When I closed my eyes I could imagine myself in that house of Satan, listening, as I had done so often, to the calling of the heathen.’

‘I cannot believe this,’ I repeated. ‘Ramses. How did you learn to differentiate these calls? There are three hundred mosques in Cairo!’

‘But only thirty or forty within the area I considered most likely,’ said Ramses. ‘To wit, the old city, with its dark and secret byways and its crumbling ancient mansions and its–’ He caught my eye. ‘I became interested in the matter last spring,’ he went on, more prosaically. ‘When we were in Cairo before leaving for England. We were there for several weeks, and I had ample opportunity to–’

‘I understand,’ said Emerson. ‘A most ingenious idea, upon my word. Don’t you agree, Peabody?’

My cup was empty. I thought of asking for more, but my iron will rose triumphant over distress and disbelief. ‘I believe we should go home now,’ I said. ‘Father Todorus must be tired.’

Father Todorus made polite protestations, but it was evident he would be glad to see the last of us. His manner toward Ramses as he bade him farewell was a blend of respect and terror.

As we emerged from the priest’s house, one of the villagers came up leading the mare and, with a deep salaam, handed the reins to Ramses.

Ramses’ excursion into grand theft had momentarily slipped my mind. I remembered reading that in the American West, horse thieves were usually hanged.

Perhaps Ramses remembered this too. In the act of mounting he hesitated and then turned to me. With his most winning smile he said, ‘Would you like to ride Mazeppa, Mama?’

‘A very proper thought, Ramses,’ said Emerson approvingly. ‘I am glad to see you show your dear mama the consideration she deserves.’

The mayor shared the opinion of the American cowboy with regard to horse thieves. I was obliged to propitiate him by hiring the horse, at a staggering fee, for the duration of our stay at Dahshoor. Leaving the mare with her owner, for we had no stabling facilities worthy of such a paragon, I returned to the house.

My annoyance was not assuaged by the sight of Ramses and his father deep in consultation over a map of Cairo that was spread across the table, on which our evening meal had already been set out. One end of the map was in the gravy. Ramses was jabbing at the paper with his forefinger and saying, ‘The most audible of the muezzins was the gentleman from the mosque of Gâmia ’Seiyidna Hosein. By a process of elimination and repetition I feel we can eliminate everything outside a region roughly seven hundred and fifty–’

Very firmly and quietly I suggested that the map be removed and the dishes rearranged. We sat down to the excellent (though tepid) meal Hamid had prepared. A distinct air of constraint was to be felt, and for a time all ate in silence. Then Emerson, whose motives are always admirable but whose notion of tact is distinctly peculiar, said brightly, ‘I trust the matter of the mare was settled to your satisfaction, Peabody.’

‘It was settled to the satisfaction of the mayor, Emerson. We have hired the mare for the season, at a price of one hundred shekels.’

Emerson choked on a mouthful of stew and had to retire behind his table napkin. However, he did not complain about the price. Instead he suggested, ‘Perhaps we should purchase the animal outright. For you, Peabody, I mean; wouldn’t you like to have her for your own? She is a pretty creature–’

‘No thank you, Emerson. The next thing, Ramses would be demanding that we ship her back to England with us.’

‘You are quite mistaken, Mama; such an idea had not occurred to me. It would be more convenient to keep Mazeppa here, so that I can ride her when we come out each–’

The sentence ended in a gasp and a start, as Emerson, who had realized that any further reference to the mare, especially from his son, would not improve my mood, kicked Ramses in the shin. No one spoke for a while. Donald had not said a word the entire time; I attributed his silence to remorse at his failure to carry out his duty, but as I was soon to learn, there was another reason. He had been thinking. As Emerson says – somewhat unjustly, I believe – the process is difficult for Englishmen, and requires all their concentration.

Not until we had slaked the first pangs of hunger and were nibbling on slices of fruit did the young man rise from his chair and clear his throat. ‘I have come to a decision,’ he announced. ‘That is, Enid and I have come to a decision.’

He took the hand the girl offered him, squared his shoulders, and went on, ‘We wish to be married at once. Professor, will you perform the service this evening?’

The sheer lunacy of the request startled me so that I dropped my napkin. It fell on top of the cat Bastet, who was crouched under the table, hoping (correctly) that Ramses would slip titbits to her. This upset her a great deal, and the rest of the conversation was punctuated with growls and thumps as Bastet wrestled with the napkin.

Emerson’s jaw dropped. He started to speak, or perhaps to laugh. Then a thought seemed to occur to him, for his eyes narrowed and his hand crept to his chin. ‘That would certainly solve some of our difficulties,’ he said musingly, stroking the dimple. ‘Mrs Emerson’s obsession with chaperonage and propriety …’

‘Emerson!’ I exclaimed. ‘How can you entertain such a notion for a split second? My dear Ronald – excuse me, Donald – my dear Enid – whatever gave you the idea that Professor Emerson is licensed to marry people?’

‘Why, I don’t know,’ Donald said, looking confused. ‘The captain of a ship has such privileges; I thought the leader of an expedition in a foreign country–’

‘You thought wrong,’ I said.

Enid lowered her eyes. Yet I had a feeling she had known the truth all along – and had not cared. I should not wish it to be supposed that I ever approve of immorality, but I must confess that my opinion of the girl rose.

‘Sit down, Donald, I said. ‘You look so very indecisive standing there scratching your ear. Let us discuss this rationally. I thoroughly approve of your decision, which will, of course, have to wait until the proper formalities have been carried out. May I ask what led you to it?’

Donald continued to hold Enid’s hand. She smiled at him with (I could not help thinking) the gentle encouragement of a teacher toward a rather backward child.

‘Enid has convinced me,’ Donald said. ‘We cannot continue to hide like criminals who have something to be ashamed of. Surely she is in no danger from the police; only a madman could entertain the notion of her guilt.’

‘That is in fact the case,’ I said. ‘We learned today that the police have abandoned any idea that she killed Kalenischeff. You, however–’

‘I,’ said Donald, lifting his chin, ‘will face my accusers like a man. They cannot prove I killed the fellow – though I was often tempted to punch him senseless as I followed him and Enid around Cairo and saw him smirk and leer at her.’

‘That is the sort of statement I strongly advise you not to make to anyone else,’ said Emerson. ‘However, I agree with you that there is little evidence against you. But you have not explained this sudden surge of gallantry. Was it love, that noble emotion, that strengthened your moral sinews?’

His satirical tone was lost on Donald, who replied simply, ‘Yes, sir, it was. Besides, reluctant as I am to face the truth, Enid has convinced me that it was Ronald who tried to kill me this morning.’

‘Well, of course it was,’ Emerson said. ‘It has been evident from the first that the difficulties you two have encountered are purely domestic in nature. Your brother, Mr Fraser, appears to be a thoroughly unprincipled person. It was he, was it not, who forged the signature and persuaded you to accept the blame? Stupid, Mr Fraser – very stupid indeed. For that act had consequences far more dangerous to you than mere dishonour. Your brother hoped that despair would lead you to death by accident or self-destruction, thus giving him control of your estate. I suspect he has an additional motive which has to do with the affections of Miss Debenham here. I also suspect that had Miss Debenham been content to accept Donald’s disgrace and disappearance, not to mention the hand in marriage of Ronald, Donald (curse it, these names are very confusing) – Ronald, I mean, would have gone no further. By vigorously pursuing the search for Donald and denying his guilt, she endangered Ronald’s position and he was forced to take more direct action.

‘He hired Kalenischeff, not to lead Miss Debenham to Donald, but to mislead her. But Kalenischeff would have betrayed Ronald for a price, and Ronald had to stop him. It is not difficult to hire assassins in Cairo. Kalenischeff was lured to Miss Debenham’s room, not only because he was more vulnerable to attack there, but because Ronald hoped to incriminate his ‘delicate darling,’ as he had the audacity to call her, and keep her from pressing her search. I suspect, Miss Debenham, that he resented your contemptuous treatment of him and his proposal of marriage, and you may thank heaven you did not change your mind, for, once in his power, you would have paid for your contumely in tears and anguish. He is a vicious and vindictive man.’

‘Amazing, Professor,’ Donald exclaimed. ‘You are right in every particular; you have even made me see painful truths I was unwilling to admit to myself. How did you know all that?’

‘Only an idiot would fail to see it,’ Emerson grunted.

‘Or a brother, blinded by fraternal affection,’ I said, more charitably.

‘Or,’ said Emerson, fixing me with a hideous scowl, ‘an individual obsessed by master criminals.’

When we sought our couch in the desert, we did not go alone. To Emerson’s poorly concealed fury, Donald had insisted Enid occupy the other tent. ‘Now, of all times,’ he had said, pressing the girl’s hand, ‘it is important that not the slightest shadow of reproach rest upon Enid.’

‘Humph,’ said Emerson.

I was against the idea myself, though not entirely for the same reason. Emerson’s analysis of the case had been cogent, as his analyses always were. That is not to say it was correct. I felt in my bones that my two young friends were entwined in the invisible strands of Sethos’ filthy web. My arguments had little effect, however. Donald supported Emerson (men always stick together), and Enid supported Donald. The only one who showed an ounce of sense was Ramses. His offer to stand guard outside Enid’s tent was unanimously rejected, but when he offered the cat in his stead, Enid laughed and said she would be delighted to have a nice cuddly kitty curl up with her.

I looked at the great brindled cat. Her topaz eyes had narrowed to slits and her lip curled, as if she were smiling contemptuously at the ludicrously inappropriate description. It seemed even more ludicrous when Ramses took her off into a corner, squatted down, facing her, and began mumbling at her. It was enough to make one’s blood run cold to see them staring into one another’s eyes, the cat quiet and intent, her head tilted and her tail twitching.