The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery (38 page)

"Mother, whatever possessed you? It is almost as big as she is."

"None of them had dark hair," I said disapprovingly. "It really is shameful. One would suppose flaxen curls and blue eyes are the only acceptable style of looks. Go and change, Ramses. Now that you have made your presence known, I presume she will allow you to absent yourself for a time."

After he had slipped out I had a few words with Fatima. She wanted to know how "that worthless Karima" was getting on with the cleaning of the dahabeeyah, and assured me she would herself supervise the final arrangements. Realizing that I could do with a bit of tidying myself, I betook myself to my room, where I found that Emerson had finished his ablutions and gone to the courtyard. When I joined him he immediately handed me a whiskey and soda and led me to a settee. We had a great deal to say to one another, but for some reason neither of us felt like talking. Emerson pulled up a hassock and lifted my slippered feet onto it. Then he sat down next to me and put his arm round me. Whatever difficulties lay ahead—and there were sure to be many of them— we would face them hand in hand, side by side, and back to back.

I said as much to Emerson, who replied, "You are mixing your metaphors again, Peabody, but the sentiment is one with which I am in complete accord. Vandergelt told me Nefret was not with them; I take it you did not find her?"

"You may take it that I did not look for her. I didn't know where to start. Emerson—there is not the slightest possibility that she can be in danger, is there?"

"She certainly left of her own accord." Emerson took his pipe from his pocket. "Ali the doorman said she had a small valise with her. He asked if she wanted a cab but she said no. She set off on foot, in the direction of the tram station. If she doesn't come home tonight, we will begin tracing her tomorrow; but I cannot believe she is in danger. At least," he added glumly, "I wouldn't believe it if I could make any sense whatever of what is happening."

The howls of Narmer proclaimed the arrival of our friends. Katherine did not waste time. "Did the frocks fit? How did she like the doll? May I see her?"

"You women," Emerson growled. "Is that all you can think of, frocks and toys and babies? Er—suppose I just go and fetch her."

I persuaded him to serve beverages to our guests instead, and before long Ramses came down the stairs carrying the child. She was wearing one of the frocks I had bought—a nice little white garment with just a touch of broderie anglaise on the collar—and the red leather slippers. At the sight of so many people she burrowed into Ramses's shoulder.

I went to sit with Katherine and Cyrus, who had tactfully withdrawn some little distance, leaving Emerson to make a complete idiot of himself as he tried to persuade Sennia to talk to him. The deep rumble of his voice blended oddly with her brief, high-pitched replies. She really did sound like a little bird. At last she condescended to perch on Emerson's knee while he fed her bits of biscuit.

It was not until that moment that Katherine got a good look at her face. She sucked in her breath. "I begin to understand Nefret," she whispered. "The resemblance is uncanny, Amelia. She even has your chin."

"I fear she will one day, poor unfortunate child. Emerson, no more biscuits. They will spoil her appetite."

"What are you going to do with her?" Cyrus asked.

"There can hardly be any question of that, Cyrus. Even if Percy admitted his responsibility, he is no fit person to take charge of a child. He would hand her over to a randomly selected Egyptian family, pay them a small sum of money, and stroll away."

"She might be better off with an Egyptian family," Cyrus argued. "You could with complete confidence let Selim or Daoud or any one of them adopt her."

"They will be part of her family, Cyrus, as they are part of mine. Kadija would take her in a second. But she is half English, and I will not be a party to the sort of irresponsible callousness so many English persons of the male gender demonstrate toward the infantile victims of their brief encounters. It is a matter of principle."

Cyrus raised his glass in salute. His eyes were twinkling. "And a certain amount of bullheadedness? You're gonna outface the gossips and tell them to go to the devil? We're with you every step of the way, Amelia, but—well—isn't this going to be a little hard on Ramses?"

"I have given that full consideration, of course. Ramses is of my opinion, I know; he is even more bull—er—determined than I. There is no concealing her existence now, and you may be sure
gossip will spread whatever we do. Cyrus, would you be good enough to get me another whiskey and soda? Thank you. Emerson, I said no more biscuits! I do not approve of bribing a child with sweets. It is time she went to bed. Growing children need a great deal of sleep. No, Ramses, do not take her up, she must learn to go with Basima."

A certain amount of protest followed this decision. It ended when Emerson slipped a biscuit to Basima and she held it in front of the child as she carried her off, as one leads a donkey with a carrot. I pretended not to see.

Katherine, chuckling, said, "She has quite a will of her own, hasn't she? Remarkable for an infant who has lived as she has. Amelia, what are you going to do about her mother?"

"That is a difficulty," I admitted. "The unfortunate creature seems to have disappeared; Ramses has been looking for her, without success thus far. If we can find her, we will of course protect and assist her, but... I dare not think what the child has seen and heard and experienced. Can we ever eradicate those memories?"

"Children that age learn quickly and forget easily, Amelia. I have a feeling she has been sheltered from the worst of it. A mother can do that—or try to do it."

Katherine's first husband had been a drunkard and a wife beater. I did not doubt she knew whereof she spoke.

During dinner an idea occurred to me that I was anxious to investigate. I saw no reason to explain it to Emerson, in case I was mistaken, so I simply informed him that I had not seen Jack Reynolds for several days and felt I ought not neglect that duty.

"He has been doing quite well, but men often relapse unless someone keeps after them," I explained. "Katherine will go with me, won't you, Katherine?"

We declined the offers of the gentlemen to accompany us, for I was afraid that if we did find Jack in a state of inebriation he might remember his old grudge and behave badly. Escorted by two of our men carrying lanterns, we set out on foot. It was a beautiful night and Katherine had said she would be the better for a bit of exercise.

We found Jack alone and in full possession of his senses. He was in his study, from which he emerged to greet us carrying the
book he had been reading. I was glad to see the book was not a yellowback novel but the first volume of Emerson's
History.
The sitting room was neater than it had been on the occasion of my first visit, but it could have done with dusting and there was a faint whiff of that strange odor.

If Jack was not pleased to see us, he was faultlessly polite, offering us chairs and refreshments, the latter of which we declined.

"We were out for a stroll and decided to stop by for a moment," I explained.

Even a few days without the dire effects of alcohol had restored the young fellow to his former healthy looks and intelligence. "You stopped by to see if I had gone back to the bottle," he said bluntly. "The cure has begun and you need not fear I will give way again. As you yourself reminded me, I have obligations to carry out." His jaw protruded and his teeth were bared; I could almost see Mr. Roosevelt leading the charge on San Juan Hill.

"I am delighted to hear it," I said, hoping I spoke the truth. "We will not keep you longer, then. Is Geoffrey here?"

"I no longer need a nursemaid, Mrs. Emerson."

"You misunderstood my meaning, Mr. Reynolds. I asked after Geoffrey as I would ask after any friend."

"Well, then, he's not here. He went off yesterday—I don't know where. He left a message saying he'd be gone for a few days. I was away from home."

"I see. Good night, then."

He insisted on seeing us to the door, and when I gave him my hand in farewell, he held on to it. "If I was rude or abrupt, Mrs. Emerson, I hope you will forgive me. I will always be grateful to you for your help."

"What was that all about?" Katherine asked curiously, as we started back toward the villa. "I found his manner very odd, Amelia."

"Men are very odd, Katherine. I cannot say for certain what is on his mind. I thought I detected some resentment of Geoffrey, but I would not care to say whether Jack was angry because his friend had deserted him or because he had come to his assistance in the first place! The poor creatures do dislike admitting they are dependent on others for help. I must confess that concern for Jack was not my primary reason for calling on him this evening."

"You thought Nefret might have gone to him?"

"To Geoffrey, rather. She is better friends with some of the young men than with the young ladies of Cairo society, which is not surprising, considering that the latter are empty-headed ninnies. It is surely more than a coincidence that Geoffrey went off leaving such a vague message. If she was in some distress, as I believe her to have been, he would have offered himself as escort to—well, to wherever she wanted to go. Nor would he have betrayed her confidence to Jack. Yes, that must have been what happened. I confess I am relieved to know she is not alone."

"He is not the sort of man to take advantage, I suppose."

"Of Nefret?" I could not help laughing. "He is a perfect gentleman, and Nefret is not the sort of woman who is easily taken advantage of. Depend upon it, we will hear from her soon."

We did hear, the following evening. The letter was handwritten and delivered by messenger. "I hope you haven't been worried about me. We will be home in a few days, Geoffrey and I. We were married this morning."

Ah, the wonder of those chill desert nights! How often have I laid [sic!] wrapped only in a blanket looking up at the canopy of stars and thinking of Him who made them. A man whose thoughts and acts are not ennobled by such experiences is beyond redemption.

From Manuscript H

The
Amelia's
gangplank was out and David was on deck, leaning on the rail and smoking his pipe. His thin brown face broadened in a smile when he saw Ramses, and he came with long strides to meet him.

"I hoped we'd see you this afternoon," he said. "You weren't at the train station this morning."

"I'm sorry, there was something else I had to do." He gripped David's outstretched hand. "I've missed you."

"I can't say that you have been foremost in my thoughts the entire time."

Ramses laughed. "Had that been the case I would question your sanity. So—"

"So stop behaving like an Englishman." David held out his arms. "Embrace me as a brother should."

The landing stage was used by the steamers that carried tourists from Cairo; only Emerson's prestige (and, Ramses suspected, a judicious application of baksheesh from Reis Hassan) had won the
Amelia
permission to use it. The location was within walking distance of the house, and the convenience of this outweighed the disadvantage of the crowds that filled the area several times daily. Some of them stared and whispered at the sight of two men in European dress embracing one another.

"The devil with them, as the Professor would say," said David, sketching an impertinent parody of a salaam at a staring woman. He was looking well, Ramses thought; his face was fuller and there was a new firmness in the set of his well-cut lips. Ramses had looked forward to this moment for weeks. Now there was so much to say he didn't know where to begin.

David saved him the worst of it. "Aunt Amelia told me about Nefret. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Why are we standing here? I haven't said hello to Lia."

"She can wait," said Lia's husband. "For God's sake, Ramses, don't pretend, not with me. What happened?"

"Mother told you about the child?"

"Yes. I won't ask why you didn't write me about her; you never tell me anything! It must have been a frightful shock having her turn up out of the blue with that filthy swine Kalaan. But there has to be more to it than that. Even Nefret wouldn't rush off and get married unless..."