Lion in the Valley (31 page)

Nor
did Donald linger over his toilette. He had been wearing Arab dress over his
shirt and trousers; the removal of the robe removed the worst of the mud and he
had taken time to pass a brush over his waving locks. After he had joined us I
invited him to tell us what had happened and to provide us with the name of the
person who had attempted to assassinate Ramses.

"As
you must know, from your calm tone, Mrs. Emerson, it was an accident," he
replied. "Brought on in large part by Master Ramses himself. We had gone
down to the canal and were talking with the women who were washing clothes—at
least Ramses was. By the way, your son has an appalling familiarity with
certain Arabic idioms-----While we were there, we heard gunfire some little
distance off. Before I could stop him, Ramses had mounted his donkey and was
going hellbent for leather—I beg your pardon—riding rapidly in the direction
from which the shots had come. I caught up with him after a while and explained
that it was ill-advised to blunder into a shooting blind. We had a little
discussion. He persuaded me—fool that I am!—to go closer, in order to observe
the shooting. We—er—we had made quite a lot of noise, and I did not doubt the
hunters knew we were there, but in order to be perfectly safe I called out
again. A great flock of pigeons were wheeling and preparing to settle; it was
clear that the rifles would be aimed in that direction, and since we were
approaching from the west, I thought I had taken every possible
precaution—"

"It
sounds as if you had," I observed, pouring him another cup of tea. "I
presume Ramses ran out into the line of fire."

Donald
nodded. "Shouting at the top of his lungs and
waving
his hat. Naturally the birds took alarm and flew off—"

"Which
was precisely my intention," exclaimed Ramses. "You know my
sentiments about blood sports, Mama; killing for food or in self-defense is one
thing, but the slaughter of helpless fauna for the sake of simply counting the
number of the slain is a process I cannot—''

"Your
sentiments on that subject are known to me, Ramses," said Emerson.
"But, dear boy—"

"Don't
scold him," Enid begged. "The gallant little fellow was not thinking
of his own safety. His action was reckless but noble! I might have done the
same thing had I been there, for I share his abhorrence of men who find a
perverse pleasure in killing."

This
statement was obviously directed at Donald, who flushed painfully. He got no
chance to defend himself, for Enid continued to praise and admire Ramses, whose
smug expression was really enough to try the patience of a saint. In a typical
Ramsesian effort to show appreciation for her spirited defense, he offered to
give her a lesson in hieroglyphic—the highest compliment in his power—and they
went into the house, hand in hand.

Donald
slammed his cup into his saucer with such force that it cracked. "I resign
my position, Mrs. Emerson. I have faced armed foes and fierce savages, but
Ramses has defeated me."

"Ramses?
You mean Enid, don't you? Have more bread and butter, Donald."

"I
don't want any cursed ... Forgive me, Mrs. E. I only want to be left
alone."

"Alone
with your pipe and your opium?" said Emerson. "Give it up, my boy.
You won't elude Mrs. Emerson; she has made up her mind to reform you, and
reform
you she will, whether you like it or not. Excuse me; I believe I will go in and
work on my notes."

"Emerson
is so tactful," I said, as my husband's stalwart form vanished into the
house. "He knows I wanted a confidential chat with you, Ronald—I beg your
pardon, Donald. No, don't go, for if you do, I will have Abdullah bring you
back and sit on you until I am finished. Goodness, the stubbornness of the male
sex! Enid has told me everything, Donald."

The
young man sank back into his chair. "Everything?"

'
'Well, almost everything. She did not say in so many words that she loves you,
but it was not difficult for me to see it. I am constantly astonished—"

Donald
leaped to his feet. "Loves me?"

"—at
the inability of men to see what is right under their noses. And you love
her—"

"Love
her? Love her!"

"You
sound like a parrot. Do sit down and stop shouting, or you will have everyone
coming round to see what is wrong."

Slowly
Donald subsided into his chair, like a man whose limbs will no longer support
him. His eyes, wide as saucers, and blue as the best Egyptian turquoise, were fixed
on my face.

I
continued, "Why else would she pursue you and attempt to persuade you to
defend yourself? Why would she submit to the disgusting attentions of a man
like Kalenischeff, if not to aid you? Why is she so furious with you? Mark my
words, a woman does not go to such lengths for the sake of old friendship. She
loves you! But she despises you too, and with reason. You do your brother no
favor to take his punishment on yourself, and if you are foolish enough to
submit to
shame and disgrace for the sake of some absurd notion of
gallantry, you have no right to make those who love you suffer. Proclaim your
innocence and your brother's guilt; take the position that is rightly yours,
and claim your bride!"

"I
can't believe you," Donald muttered. "She despises me. She—"

"Well,
of course she does. That has nothing to do with her loving you. Now listen to
me, Donald. You cannot desert us. I am unable to explain this to Emerson, for
he is becoming so unreasonable about the Master Criminal that the mere mention
of the name starts him shouting, but you, I dare hope, will understand. Enid is
in grave danger, not from the police, but from that mysterious genius of crime.
He meant her to be charged and convicted for the murder of Kalenischeff. Why
else would he have selected her room as the scene of slaughter?"

"Possibly,"
Donald suggested, "because Kalenischeff was on his guard at all other
times and was only vulnerable to attack when he believed he had been summoned
to a romantic rendezvous."

"My
question was rhetorical," I said sharply. "Take my word for it; Enid
is not safe. Who knows, she may have seen or heard something on that terrible
night that would endanger Sethos, could she but recall it. Let her abuse you
and insult you, but do not abandon her when she needs you. And, while I am on
the subject of insults and abuses, let me inform you that your abject
acceptance of Enid's contumely is not going to improve her opinion of you. I
would be happy to give you one or two suggestions—"

Again
Donald started up, so impetuously that his chair toppled over. "I beg you,
Mrs. Emerson—spare
me. Your arguments have won me over; I
will never desert Miss Debenham so long as she is in need of protection. But I
cannot—I cannot endure—oh, God!" Whereupon he rushed into the house.

Ten

A
bdullah
had neglected to close the gates. I sat in rare and pleasurable solitude,
listening to the distant voices of Ramses and Enid discussing ancient Egyptian
(or rather, the voice of Ramses lecturing Enid about ancient Egyptian) and
enjoying the splendor of the sunset. The grand palette of the heavens was
streaked with colors no earthly painter could achieve, savage-glowing bronze
and gleaming crimson, indigo and rose and soft blue-gray. I knew the lurid
beauty of the sky was due to the amount of sand in the atmosphere, and hoped we
were not in for a storm.

One
of the paths from the village passed in front of the gates, and my vigil was
further enlivened by the forms of fellahin returning home from the fields,
donkeys loaded with wood for the cookfires, women muffled in black and carrying
heavy water jars on their heads. The procession of eternal Egypt, I thought to
myself—for
poetic fancies come to me at such times.

An
alien shape broke into the slow-moving parade, the very speed of its approach
an intrusion. The shape was that of a mounted man, who rode straight through
the open gates. Seeing me, he dismounted, sweeping off his hat.

"Mrs.
Emerson, I am Ronald Fraser. We met the other day—''

"I
know," I said. "Are you by chance the person who put a hole in my
son's hat this afternoon?"

"No,
indeed! At least I hope not." His smile made him look so much like his
brother, I glanced involuntarily over my shoulder. Donald was nowhere in sight,
but Emerson was. His broad shoulders filled the open doorway and a scowl
darkened his face.

"You
hope not," he repeated ironically. "I hope not too, young man; for if
you were the one who committed that little error, you would have to answer to
me."

"It
is in order to explain and apologize for the incident that I do myself the
honor to call on you and your charming lady," Ronald said smoothly.
"May I—"

"You
may," I said, indicating the chair Donald had overturned in his hasty
departure. "I would offer you a cup of tea, but I am afraid it is cold."

Ronald
righted the chair and deposited himself in it. He was a graceful creature, more
elegant and less manly than his brother. Knowing them as I now did, I could
never have mistaken one for the other. The younger man's countenance betrayed
the weakness of his character; his lips were thin, his chin was irresolute, his
brow narrow and receding. Even his eyes, of the same sea-blue, were paler in
color. They met mine with a
      
clear
candor I could not help but find highly suspicious.

In
the most charming manner he disclaimed any intention of troubling me, even to
the extent of a cup of
tea. "I came," he went on,
"only to make certain that no harm had been done the lad. He ran out in
front of our guns, Professor and Mrs. Emerson—I assure you he did. I honestly
don't know whose bullet it was that struck the hat out of his hand. He had
retrieved it and retreated before we could go after him. Though we searched for
some time, we found no sign of him, or of anyone else—though I thought I caught
a glimpse of another person, an Arab, by his clothing...."

He
ended on a questioning note, but I was not tempted to inform him that the other
person present had been his brother. Nor was Emerson; in fact, my husband's
response was direct to the point of rudeness. There were references, as I
recall, to young idiots who could find nothing better to do with their time
than blast away at birds who could not shoot back, and to his (Emerson's)
sincere hope that the shooters would end up riddling themselves and each other.

Mr.
Ronald's fixed smile remained in place. "I don't blame you, Professor; in
your place I would say much the same."

"I
doubt that," Emerson replied haughtily. "If you think your powers of
invective can equal mine, you are sadly mistaken."

"I
will make any amends in my power," the young man insisted. "A gift to
the little chap—a profound apology—"

I
had been wondering why Ramses had not made an appearance. It was most unlike
him to refrain from interrupting. Yet even this conciliatory and tempting offer
did not bring him out of the house. The most profound silence filled that
edifice; even the murmur of Ramses' lecture had ceased.

"That
is not necessary," I said. "But thank you for coming."

I
had no intention of allowing him to leave as yet, but it was not easy to
introduce the topic I wanted to question him about. "Did you forge your
brother's signature?" or "Do you believe Miss Debenham is a
murderess?" seemed a trifle abrupt, especially since I was not supposed to
be acquainted with the persons in question. However, the young man saved me the
trouble by an inquiry almost as direct as the ones I had rejected.

"I
had another reason for coming," he said gravely. "May I have a word,
please, with Miss Debenham?"

I
rallied at once without, I am sure, indicating how surprised I was by the
question. "Miss Debenham? I don't believe I know—"

"I
cannot believe she has succeeded in deceiving you, Mrs. Emerson, no matter what
name she has assumed. You are too astute to be gulled. Your kind heart and
gentle sympathy are well known; everyone talks of it; it is impossible to spend
more than a few days in Egypt without knowing your reputation—and, of course,
that of your distinguished husband. You took her in, a helpless fugitive, and
for that you will always have my gratitude. Do you suppose I would betray her—
I, who hold her above all living creatures? Only let me see her, speak to
her—assure myself she is unharmed— learn what I can do to serve her...."

Unwillingly
impressed by his eloquence, I listened without either confirming or denying his
assumption. How long he would have gone on I cannot say, but his speech was
halted by Enid herself. She had to push Emerson out of the way; he had been
listening with an expression of incredulous disgust.

"You
see me," she said icily. "I am unharmed. You know what you can do to
serve me. That answers all your questions, I believe."

"Enid!"
He rushed toward her, overturning the chair
for the second time that
afternoon. I heard a crack as one of the legs gave way.

Enid
waited until he was almost upon her, then raised one hand with a solemn dignity
that stopped him in his tracks. "Enid," he repeated, in tones of
gentle reproach. ' 'How could you do this? If you knew what agonies I have
endured, being ignorant of where you were or how you fared—"