Crocodile on the Sandbank (7 page)
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
After I had assured myself that there was no trace of the visitant on
the balcony or in the garden below,
I explained to Evelyn what had
happened. She had lighted a candle. By its flame I saw her expression,
and knew what she was about to say.
"It was no dream," I insisted. "It would not be surprising that I
should dream of ancient Egyptian ghosts; but I believe I know
the difference between reality and sleep."
"Did you pinch yourself?"Evelyn inquired seriously.
"I had not time to pinch myself," I said, pacing angrily up and down.
"You see the torn netting— "
"I believe you fought a gallant fight with the bed sheets and the
netting," Evelyn said. "Real objects and those seen in dreams blend
into one another— "
I let out a loud exclamation. Evelyn looked alarmed, fearing she had
offended me; but it was not her disbelief that had prompted my cry.
Bending over, I picked up from the floor the hard object that my
bare
instep had painfully pressed upon. In silence I held it out for
Evelyn's inspection.
It was a small ornament, about an inch long, made of blue-green
faience, in the shape of the hawk god, Horus— the kind of ornament that
often hangs on necklaces worn by the ancient Egyptian dead.
believe in ghosts. No; some malignant human agent had been at work in
the moonlit room, and that worried me a good deal more than ghosts. I
thought immediately of Alberto as a possible culprit, but there really
seemed no reason why he should undertake such a bizarre trick. His was
not the type of the murderer; he was vicious, but weak. And what would
it profit him to murder either Evelyn or myself?
A criminal of another kind might hope to profit, however, and I came to
the conclusion that my visitor had been a would-be thief, a little more
imaginative than his fellows, who hoped by bis imitation of an ancient
Egyptian to confound a wakeful victim long enough to effect his escape.
It was a rather ingenious idea, really; I almost wished I could meet
the
inventive burglar.
I decided not to summon the police. The Egyptian police are perfectly
useless, and I had not seen the man's face closely enough to identify
him, even supposing that the authorities could track one man through
the teeming streets of Cairo. The man would not return; he had found me
wakeful and threatening, and he would look for easier prey.
Having come to this conclusion, I was somewhat easier in my mind, so I
explained it all to Evelyn, hoping to calm her nerves. She agreed with
my deductions, but I think she still half believed I had been dreaming.
I did take the precaution of investigating Alberto's activities. I was
unable to discover where he had been staying. There are hundreds of
small inns in Cairo, and presumably he had used one of these, for he
certainly had not been observed in any of the European hotels. I did
learn, however, (hat a man of his description had taken a ticket on the
morning train for Alexandria, and I decided that we could dismiss
Alberto from our thoughts.
Walter was not so easy to dismiss. He called next morning, as early as
was decently possible. Evelyn refused to see him. I understood, and
commended, her motives; the less she saw of him, the easier the
eventual parting would be. Not knowing her true feelings, Walter
naturally misunderstood. I assured him that physically she was
recovered and then informed him she could not receive visitors. What
else could he assume but that she did not want to see him? He even went
so far as to ask whether it was some act
of his that had brought on her
fainting fit the night before. I assured him that this was not so, but
the poor lad was unconvinced. Looking like a wan Byronic hero, he asked
me to say goodbye to Evelyn for him. He and his brother were leaving
next day for their dig.
I felt so sorry for the young fellow I almost blurted out part of the
truth; but I knew I had no right to violate Evelyn's confidence. So I
went upstairs, to console the other half of the pair of heartbroken
lovers, and a tedious business it was too, when
a little common sense on both parts would have settled the matter to
the satisfaction of all.
With Michael's assistance I contrived to hurry the boat crew. Michael's
newborn devotion was complete; he did everything he could to assist us,
although at times I think he shared the opinion of the men—that I was
an interfering, illogical female. One of my acquaintances at
Shepheard's had informed me I had made an error in selecting a
Christian as my dragoman, for the Copts are not accepted as readily as
coreligionists by Moslem crews and captains. However, Reis Hassan and
Michael seemed to get on well enough, and the preparations proceeded
apace. The piano was moved into the saloon, and the curtains were hung;
they looked very handsome. The crew began to straggle in from their
home villages. I sent Travers off to England, and saw her go with no
regrets.
We were very busy during those days, shopping for more supplies and
visiting Michael, where we played with the little girl and practiced
our Arabic on the ladies of the household; having the piano tuned,
paying final visits to Gizeh (I went in the Great Pyramid again, but
Evelyn would not), going to the museum several more times, and making
calls on the British authorities. I found another of my father's old
acquaintances in the finance ministry; he scolded me for not having
called earlier so that he could have
the opportunity of entertaining
me. He was very kind; so much so, that I began to feel uncomfortable at
the way his eyes examined me. Finally he burst out,
"My dear Miss Amelia, you really have changed; are you aware of how
much you have changed? The
air of Egypt must agree with you; you seem
much younger than you did when I last saw you in Sussex."
I was wearing a dress Evelyn had selected for me, a mustard-yellow
foulard trimmed in green, with draped skirts.
"Fine feathers, my dear sir," I said briskly. "They are becoming even
to elderly hens. Now, I wonder if you could help me— "
I had come, of course, to find out about Evelyn's grandfather. I could
see that my friend was surprised
at my interest, but he was too much of
a gentleman to ask the cause. He informed me that word of the
earl's
death had reached him within the past fortnight. He knew no details,
only the bare fact; it was not
a subject of consuming interest to him.
I was inhibited because I could not ask the questions I needed to
ask
without betraying Evelyn's secret. I did not want her identity to
become known in Egypt, since we proposed to spend the rest of the
winter there. So I had to go away with my curiosity partially
unsatisfied.
However, I was able to meet Major— now Sir Evelyn— Baring, the consul
general and British agent, who came into the office as I was leaving
it. He reminded me of my brothers. Solid British respectability lay
upon him like a coating of dust. His neat moustache, his gold-rimmed
pince-nez, the rounded configuration of his impeccably garbed form, all
spoke of his reliability, capability, and dullness. However, he had
done an admirable job of trying to restore financial stability to a
country heavily in debt, and even when I met him he was known to be the
chief power in Egypt. He was faultlessly courteous to me, assuring me
of his willingness to be of assistance in any possible way. He had
known my father, he said, by reputation. I was beginning to get an
image of my dear papa sitting quietly in the center of a web whose
strands extended all over the globe.
We planned to leave on the Friday. It was on the Thursday evening that
our visitor arrived, and conversation with him made clear several
points that had hitherto been cloudy— and raised new problems not so
easily solved.
We were in the lounge; I had insisted we go down. Evelyn had been
pensive and sad all day, brooding about her grandfather and, I
suspected, about the thought of Walter speeding southward away from
her. The Emersons did not hire even a small dahabeeyah; Walter had
explained that they rented space on a steamer which carried their
supplies, and that they slept on
deck with the crew, rolled in their blankets. I thought of my delicate
Evelyn living in such conditions and could not wholly regret the loss
of Walter.
We were both tired, having been occupied all day with such last-minute
details as always occur when one prepares for a journey; and I believe
I was dozing just a little when an exclamation from Evelyn aroused me.
For a moment I thought we were about to have a repetition of the
evening of Alberto's appearance. Evelyn had risen to her feet and was
staring toward the door. Her expression was not so much one of alarm,
however, as of disbelief; and when I turned to see the cause of her
amazement, I beheld a young gentleman coming quickly toward us, a broad
smile on his face and his hand extended in greeting.
He seemed for a moment as if he would embrace her. Propriety prevailed;
but he took her limp hand in both his big brown ones and wrung it
enthusiastically.
"Evelyn! My dear girl! You cannot imagine the relief, the pleasure-----
How could you frighten me so?"
"And you cannot imagine my surprise," Evelyn exclaimed. "What on earth
are you doing here?"
"Following you, of course, what other reason could I have? I could not
rest while I was in doubt as to your safety. But we forget ourselves,
Evelyn." He turned to me with the same broad smile. "I need not ask;
this must be Miss Peabody. The kindly, the noble, the greathearted
Miss Peabody, to whom I owe my dear cousin's recovery. Oh, yes I know
all! I visited the British consul in Rome; that is how I traced you
here. And knowing what that gentleman did not, of the circumstances
that had brought Evelyn to Rome—no, Cousin, we will not speak of them,
not now or ever again; but knowing of them I am able
to give Miss
Peabody's conduct the credit it deserves. My dear Miss Peabody! Excuse
me, but I cannot restrain my enthusiasm; I am an enthusiastic fellow!"
Seizing my hand, he wrung it as thoroughly as he had wrung Evelyn's,
beaming like a .younger edition
of the immortal
Pickwick all the while. "Really, sir," I said. "I am quite
overwhelmed— "
"I know, I know." Dropping my hand, the young gentleman
burst into the jolliest peal of laughter imaginable. "I do overwhelm
people. I can't help it. Please sit down, ladies, so that I may do so;
then we will have a pleasant talk."
"Perhaps you might even consider introducing yourself," I suggested,
tenderly massaging my fingers.
"Forgive me, Amelia," Evelyn exclaimed. "Let me present my cousin, Mr.
Lucas Hayes."
"
I
will let you; whether
he
will be silent long enough to be
presented,
I don't know." I looked keenly at
the young man, who was smiling
broadly, undisturbed by my sharpness. "But I fancy it is no longer
Mr.
Hayes. Should I not say 'yourlordship?'"
A shadow clouded Evelyn's face. The new earl leaned over and patted her
hand.
"You will say Lucas, I hope, Miss Peabody. I feel I know you so well!
And it may be painful for Evelyn to be reminded of her loss. I see the
news has reached you."
"We only learned of it a few days ago," Evelyn said. "I had tried to
prepare myself, but— Please tell me about it, Lucas. I want to hear
everything."
"You are sure you wish to?"
"Oh, yes. I must hear every detail, even if it is painful to me; and
although I know I should not, I cannot help hoping that he forgave me,
at the end... that he had time for one kind word, one message...."
She leaned forward, her hands clasped, her blue eyes misty with tears.
She looked very pretty and appealing; the young earl's face reflected
his admiration.
"Evelyn, I am sure he felt kindness, even though----- But I will tell
you all. Only let me marshal my thoughts."
While he marshaled mem I had leisure to study him with a curiosity I
made no attempt to conceal. He was a tall, broad-shouldered young chap,
dressed with an elegance that verged on foppishness. His patent leather
boots shone like glass; his
waistcoat was embroidered with rosebuds. A huge diamond glittered in
the midst of an immense expanse of snowy shirt front, and his trousers
were so close-fitting that when he sat down I expected something to
rip. The candid cheerfulness of his face was very English, but his
swarthy complexion and large dark eyes betrayed bis father's
nationality. I looked then at his hands. They were well shaped, if
rather large and brown, and were as well tended as a woman's. I always
think hands are so expressive of character. I had noticed that
Emerson's
were heavy with calluses and disfigured with the scars and scratches of
manual labor.
There is no use trying to conceal from the reader that I found myself
illogically prejudiced against my
new acquaintance. I say illogically,
because his manner thus far had been irreprochable, if ebullient. His
subsequent speeches proved him to be a man of honor and of heart.
Still, I did not like him.
Lucas began his explanation.
"You know, I imagine, that after your— your departure, our revered
progenitor fell into such a rage that he suffered a stroke. We did not
expect that he would recover from it, but the old gentleman had amazing
powers of recuperation; I have noted that a vicious temper does seem to
give its possessors unusual strength----- Now, Evelyn, you mustn't look
at me so reproachfully. I had some affection for our grandfather, but I
cannot overlook his treatment of you. You must allow me an occasional
word of criticism.
"When I heard what had transpired, I went at once to Ellesmere Castle.
I was not the only one to respond; you, who know our family, can
imagine the scene of pandemonium I found on my arrival. Aunts and
uncles and cousins of every degree had descended, like the scavengers
they are— eating and drinking as hard as they could, and trying every
despicable stratagem to get into the sickroom, where the sufferer lay
tike a man in a beleaguered fort. I couldn't decide which of them was
the worst. Our second cousin
Wilfred tried to bribe the nurse; Aunt Marian sat in a chair outside
the door and had to be pushed back whenever it was opened; young Peter
Forbes, at his mother's instigation, climbed the ivy outside the window
of the sickroom and was only repelled by the footman and your humble
servant."
The waiter coming by at that moment, Lucas ordered coffee. He caught my
eye and burst into another
of those hearty peals of laughter.
"My dear Miss Peabody, you have a countenance as expressive as an open
book. I can read your thoughts; shall I tell you what you are thinking?
You are thinking that I am the pot that calls the kettle black— that I
am as thorough a scavenger as the rest. And, of course, you are
absolutely correct! I respected our grandfather for his good qualities.
He had a few; if I had more time, I might be able to
recall one of
them. . . . No, dear Miss Peabody, frankness is my worst failing. I
cannot pretend to emotions I do not feel, even to improve my position
in the world, and I will not be such a hypocrite as
to pretend I loved
our Grandfather. Evelyn is a little saint; she would find some excuse
for a man who knocked her down and trampled on her...."
He broke off as I made a warning gesture. Evelyn's face was flushed;
her eyes were fixed on her hands, folded tightly in her lap.
the balcony or in the garden below,
I explained to Evelyn what had
happened. She had lighted a candle. By its flame I saw her expression,
and knew what she was about to say.
"It was no dream," I insisted. "It would not be surprising that I
should dream of ancient Egyptian ghosts; but I believe I know
the difference between reality and sleep."
"Did you pinch yourself?"Evelyn inquired seriously.
"I had not time to pinch myself," I said, pacing angrily up and down.
"You see the torn netting— "
"I believe you fought a gallant fight with the bed sheets and the
netting," Evelyn said. "Real objects and those seen in dreams blend
into one another— "
I let out a loud exclamation. Evelyn looked alarmed, fearing she had
offended me; but it was not her disbelief that had prompted my cry.
Bending over, I picked up from the floor the hard object that my
bare
instep had painfully pressed upon. In silence I held it out for
Evelyn's inspection.
It was a small ornament, about an inch long, made of blue-green
faience, in the shape of the hawk god, Horus— the kind of ornament that
often hangs on necklaces worn by the ancient Egyptian dead.
* * *
I was more determined than ever to leave Cairo. Of course I did notbelieve in ghosts. No; some malignant human agent had been at work in
the moonlit room, and that worried me a good deal more than ghosts. I
thought immediately of Alberto as a possible culprit, but there really
seemed no reason why he should undertake such a bizarre trick. His was
not the type of the murderer; he was vicious, but weak. And what would
it profit him to murder either Evelyn or myself?
A criminal of another kind might hope to profit, however, and I came to
the conclusion that my visitor had been a would-be thief, a little more
imaginative than his fellows, who hoped by bis imitation of an ancient
Egyptian to confound a wakeful victim long enough to effect his escape.
It was a rather ingenious idea, really; I almost wished I could meet
the
inventive burglar.
I decided not to summon the police. The Egyptian police are perfectly
useless, and I had not seen the man's face closely enough to identify
him, even supposing that the authorities could track one man through
the teeming streets of Cairo. The man would not return; he had found me
wakeful and threatening, and he would look for easier prey.
Having come to this conclusion, I was somewhat easier in my mind, so I
explained it all to Evelyn, hoping to calm her nerves. She agreed with
my deductions, but I think she still half believed I had been dreaming.
I did take the precaution of investigating Alberto's activities. I was
unable to discover where he had been staying. There are hundreds of
small inns in Cairo, and presumably he had used one of these, for he
certainly had not been observed in any of the European hotels. I did
learn, however, (hat a man of his description had taken a ticket on the
morning train for Alexandria, and I decided that we could dismiss
Alberto from our thoughts.
Walter was not so easy to dismiss. He called next morning, as early as
was decently possible. Evelyn refused to see him. I understood, and
commended, her motives; the less she saw of him, the easier the
eventual parting would be. Not knowing her true feelings, Walter
naturally misunderstood. I assured him that physically she was
recovered and then informed him she could not receive visitors. What
else could he assume but that she did not want to see him? He even went
so far as to ask whether it was some act
of his that had brought on her
fainting fit the night before. I assured him that this was not so, but
the poor lad was unconvinced. Looking like a wan Byronic hero, he asked
me to say goodbye to Evelyn for him. He and his brother were leaving
next day for their dig.
I felt so sorry for the young fellow I almost blurted out part of the
truth; but I knew I had no right to violate Evelyn's confidence. So I
went upstairs, to console the other half of the pair of heartbroken
lovers, and a tedious business it was too, when
a little common sense on both parts would have settled the matter to
the satisfaction of all.
With Michael's assistance I contrived to hurry the boat crew. Michael's
newborn devotion was complete; he did everything he could to assist us,
although at times I think he shared the opinion of the men—that I was
an interfering, illogical female. One of my acquaintances at
Shepheard's had informed me I had made an error in selecting a
Christian as my dragoman, for the Copts are not accepted as readily as
coreligionists by Moslem crews and captains. However, Reis Hassan and
Michael seemed to get on well enough, and the preparations proceeded
apace. The piano was moved into the saloon, and the curtains were hung;
they looked very handsome. The crew began to straggle in from their
home villages. I sent Travers off to England, and saw her go with no
regrets.
We were very busy during those days, shopping for more supplies and
visiting Michael, where we played with the little girl and practiced
our Arabic on the ladies of the household; having the piano tuned,
paying final visits to Gizeh (I went in the Great Pyramid again, but
Evelyn would not), going to the museum several more times, and making
calls on the British authorities. I found another of my father's old
acquaintances in the finance ministry; he scolded me for not having
called earlier so that he could have
the opportunity of entertaining
me. He was very kind; so much so, that I began to feel uncomfortable at
the way his eyes examined me. Finally he burst out,
"My dear Miss Amelia, you really have changed; are you aware of how
much you have changed? The
air of Egypt must agree with you; you seem
much younger than you did when I last saw you in Sussex."
I was wearing a dress Evelyn had selected for me, a mustard-yellow
foulard trimmed in green, with draped skirts.
"Fine feathers, my dear sir," I said briskly. "They are becoming even
to elderly hens. Now, I wonder if you could help me— "
I had come, of course, to find out about Evelyn's grandfather. I could
see that my friend was surprised
at my interest, but he was too much of
a gentleman to ask the cause. He informed me that word of the
earl's
death had reached him within the past fortnight. He knew no details,
only the bare fact; it was not
a subject of consuming interest to him.
I was inhibited because I could not ask the questions I needed to
ask
without betraying Evelyn's secret. I did not want her identity to
become known in Egypt, since we proposed to spend the rest of the
winter there. So I had to go away with my curiosity partially
unsatisfied.
However, I was able to meet Major— now Sir Evelyn— Baring, the consul
general and British agent, who came into the office as I was leaving
it. He reminded me of my brothers. Solid British respectability lay
upon him like a coating of dust. His neat moustache, his gold-rimmed
pince-nez, the rounded configuration of his impeccably garbed form, all
spoke of his reliability, capability, and dullness. However, he had
done an admirable job of trying to restore financial stability to a
country heavily in debt, and even when I met him he was known to be the
chief power in Egypt. He was faultlessly courteous to me, assuring me
of his willingness to be of assistance in any possible way. He had
known my father, he said, by reputation. I was beginning to get an
image of my dear papa sitting quietly in the center of a web whose
strands extended all over the globe.
We planned to leave on the Friday. It was on the Thursday evening that
our visitor arrived, and conversation with him made clear several
points that had hitherto been cloudy— and raised new problems not so
easily solved.
We were in the lounge; I had insisted we go down. Evelyn had been
pensive and sad all day, brooding about her grandfather and, I
suspected, about the thought of Walter speeding southward away from
her. The Emersons did not hire even a small dahabeeyah; Walter had
explained that they rented space on a steamer which carried their
supplies, and that they slept on
deck with the crew, rolled in their blankets. I thought of my delicate
Evelyn living in such conditions and could not wholly regret the loss
of Walter.
We were both tired, having been occupied all day with such last-minute
details as always occur when one prepares for a journey; and I believe
I was dozing just a little when an exclamation from Evelyn aroused me.
For a moment I thought we were about to have a repetition of the
evening of Alberto's appearance. Evelyn had risen to her feet and was
staring toward the door. Her expression was not so much one of alarm,
however, as of disbelief; and when I turned to see the cause of her
amazement, I beheld a young gentleman coming quickly toward us, a broad
smile on his face and his hand extended in greeting.
He seemed for a moment as if he would embrace her. Propriety prevailed;
but he took her limp hand in both his big brown ones and wrung it
enthusiastically.
"Evelyn! My dear girl! You cannot imagine the relief, the pleasure-----
How could you frighten me so?"
"And you cannot imagine my surprise," Evelyn exclaimed. "What on earth
are you doing here?"
"Following you, of course, what other reason could I have? I could not
rest while I was in doubt as to your safety. But we forget ourselves,
Evelyn." He turned to me with the same broad smile. "I need not ask;
this must be Miss Peabody. The kindly, the noble, the greathearted
Miss Peabody, to whom I owe my dear cousin's recovery. Oh, yes I know
all! I visited the British consul in Rome; that is how I traced you
here. And knowing what that gentleman did not, of the circumstances
that had brought Evelyn to Rome—no, Cousin, we will not speak of them,
not now or ever again; but knowing of them I am able
to give Miss
Peabody's conduct the credit it deserves. My dear Miss Peabody! Excuse
me, but I cannot restrain my enthusiasm; I am an enthusiastic fellow!"
Seizing my hand, he wrung it as thoroughly as he had wrung Evelyn's,
beaming like a .younger edition
of the immortal
Pickwick all the while. "Really, sir," I said. "I am quite
overwhelmed— "
"I know, I know." Dropping my hand, the young gentleman
burst into the jolliest peal of laughter imaginable. "I do overwhelm
people. I can't help it. Please sit down, ladies, so that I may do so;
then we will have a pleasant talk."
"Perhaps you might even consider introducing yourself," I suggested,
tenderly massaging my fingers.
"Forgive me, Amelia," Evelyn exclaimed. "Let me present my cousin, Mr.
Lucas Hayes."
"
I
will let you; whether
he
will be silent long enough to be
presented,
I don't know." I looked keenly at
the young man, who was smiling
broadly, undisturbed by my sharpness. "But I fancy it is no longer
Mr.
Hayes. Should I not say 'yourlordship?'"
A shadow clouded Evelyn's face. The new earl leaned over and patted her
hand.
"You will say Lucas, I hope, Miss Peabody. I feel I know you so well!
And it may be painful for Evelyn to be reminded of her loss. I see the
news has reached you."
"We only learned of it a few days ago," Evelyn said. "I had tried to
prepare myself, but— Please tell me about it, Lucas. I want to hear
everything."
"You are sure you wish to?"
"Oh, yes. I must hear every detail, even if it is painful to me; and
although I know I should not, I cannot help hoping that he forgave me,
at the end... that he had time for one kind word, one message...."
She leaned forward, her hands clasped, her blue eyes misty with tears.
She looked very pretty and appealing; the young earl's face reflected
his admiration.
"Evelyn, I am sure he felt kindness, even though----- But I will tell
you all. Only let me marshal my thoughts."
While he marshaled mem I had leisure to study him with a curiosity I
made no attempt to conceal. He was a tall, broad-shouldered young chap,
dressed with an elegance that verged on foppishness. His patent leather
boots shone like glass; his
waistcoat was embroidered with rosebuds. A huge diamond glittered in
the midst of an immense expanse of snowy shirt front, and his trousers
were so close-fitting that when he sat down I expected something to
rip. The candid cheerfulness of his face was very English, but his
swarthy complexion and large dark eyes betrayed bis father's
nationality. I looked then at his hands. They were well shaped, if
rather large and brown, and were as well tended as a woman's. I always
think hands are so expressive of character. I had noticed that
Emerson's
were heavy with calluses and disfigured with the scars and scratches of
manual labor.
There is no use trying to conceal from the reader that I found myself
illogically prejudiced against my
new acquaintance. I say illogically,
because his manner thus far had been irreprochable, if ebullient. His
subsequent speeches proved him to be a man of honor and of heart.
Still, I did not like him.
Lucas began his explanation.
"You know, I imagine, that after your— your departure, our revered
progenitor fell into such a rage that he suffered a stroke. We did not
expect that he would recover from it, but the old gentleman had amazing
powers of recuperation; I have noted that a vicious temper does seem to
give its possessors unusual strength----- Now, Evelyn, you mustn't look
at me so reproachfully. I had some affection for our grandfather, but I
cannot overlook his treatment of you. You must allow me an occasional
word of criticism.
"When I heard what had transpired, I went at once to Ellesmere Castle.
I was not the only one to respond; you, who know our family, can
imagine the scene of pandemonium I found on my arrival. Aunts and
uncles and cousins of every degree had descended, like the scavengers
they are— eating and drinking as hard as they could, and trying every
despicable stratagem to get into the sickroom, where the sufferer lay
tike a man in a beleaguered fort. I couldn't decide which of them was
the worst. Our second cousin
Wilfred tried to bribe the nurse; Aunt Marian sat in a chair outside
the door and had to be pushed back whenever it was opened; young Peter
Forbes, at his mother's instigation, climbed the ivy outside the window
of the sickroom and was only repelled by the footman and your humble
servant."
The waiter coming by at that moment, Lucas ordered coffee. He caught my
eye and burst into another
of those hearty peals of laughter.
"My dear Miss Peabody, you have a countenance as expressive as an open
book. I can read your thoughts; shall I tell you what you are thinking?
You are thinking that I am the pot that calls the kettle black— that I
am as thorough a scavenger as the rest. And, of course, you are
absolutely correct! I respected our grandfather for his good qualities.
He had a few; if I had more time, I might be able to
recall one of
them. . . . No, dear Miss Peabody, frankness is my worst failing. I
cannot pretend to emotions I do not feel, even to improve my position
in the world, and I will not be such a hypocrite as
to pretend I loved
our Grandfather. Evelyn is a little saint; she would find some excuse
for a man who knocked her down and trampled on her...."
He broke off as I made a warning gesture. Evelyn's face was flushed;
her eyes were fixed on her hands, folded tightly in her lap.
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