The Hippopotamus Pool (6 page)

He was waiting at the top of the gangplank, and when I saw the familiar form, its snowy robes and turban matching the white of his beard, affection overcame my dread of what he had done—or, to be more accurate, probably not done. Abdullah had been our reis, or foreman, for many years. He and the members of his extensive family had been trained by Emerson in the methods of scientific excavation; they were not only indispensable and valued assistants, they were trusted friends. To complain of the fact that, like all men, Abdullah had not the faintest notion of what constituted decent housekeeping would have been unreasonable.

So I addressed him as "my father," and knew it pleased him, though dignity and the watching audience—the aforesaid members of his family, all jumping up and down and calling out in welcome—prevented him from displaying emotion. Formal Arabic greetings can take quite a lot of time. To my surprise Abdullah cut them short and said, with an odd look at Emerson, "There is someone here to see you, Father of Curses."

"What?" Emerson freed himself from the fond embrace of Daoud, Abdullah's nephew, and directed a formidable scowl at his foreman. "Here? What the devil do you mean, letting a stranger on board, when this was supposed to be a private family occasion? Get rid of him."

Abdullah began, "He insisted—"

That was an error, and he ought to have known better. Emerson's roar hurt my ears. "Insisted? Oh, he insisted, did he? Where is he? Devil take it, I will throw him overboard myself!"

Abdullah's bearded lips twitched. "That feat would tax even your powers, Emerson. He is on the upper deck."

Emerson charged toward the stairs. I followed close on his heels, for I dared not allow Emerson to encounter a visitor when he was in one of his rages. It had occurred to me, as it must have occurred to the reader, that "Mr. Saleh" had called again, but I immediately dismissed the idea; only a man of extraordinary importance could have persuaded Abdullah to violate his orders. The Khedive? The British Consul-General? Lord Kitchener? In his present state of mind Emerson was quite capable of throwing any or all of these distinguished personages overboard.

The upper deck, which formed the roof of the cabins, had been fitted out with chairs and lounges, awnings and little tables, to form a pleasant open-air parlor. My housewifely eye could not help noticing that the awnings sagged and that the rugs clashed horribly with the upholstery of the chairs; but my full attention was captured by the individual who sprawled upon the largest of the sofas—yet scarcely large enough, I feared, to stand up under the strain.

He occupied its full length, his head and shoulders raised by a pile of cushions, his enormous girth swelling up from his chin and down to feet as small as a woman's. On them he wore dainty slippers so heavily embroidered with gold and sequins that the underlying fabric could not be seen. An emerald the size of a pullet's egg adorned his cloth-of-gold turban. By contrast, his robe was puritanically plain, without so much as a row of braid: light gray in color and voluminous as a tent, it caught the light with the rich glow of velvet. Squatting behind him, motionless as statues, were two men wearing a kind of livery consisting of loose trousers and matching vests and turbans of the same unadorned gray.

Emerson had come to a dead stop. "So," he said. "You are still alive. I hoped one of your innumerable enemies had finished you off."

Though the vast shape of his body resembled that of a beached whale, the fellow's face was heavy rather than fat, especially around the cleanshaven jaws and chin. They protruded like the muzzle of an animal, and when the wide lips parted, they displayed teeth yellow as old ivory.

"Courteous as ever, O Father of Curses," he said, in English almost as pure as Emerson's. "Will you not present me to the honored Sitt your wife and to your beautiful and talented children?"

The beautiful and talented children had, as I might have expected, followed us. The visitor appeared quite struck by them, especially by Nefret. He stared, openly and rudely, until Emerson stepped in front of the girl as if to shield her from that intent gaze.

"No, I will not," he said. "Nefret, we will join you in the saloon shortly. Go with her, Ramses."

When Emerson speaks in that particular tone, not even Ramses disobeys him. The visitor laughed. "Then I will present myself. You need no introduction, Sitt Hakim; your fame is in the streets and the suks and the palaces. I am Giovanni Riccetti."

"Good heavens. I know your name, of course." And indeed I did. Emerson had mentioned it on several occasions. In his time Riccetti had been the most notorious antiquities dealer in Egypt.

"You do me too much honor, Sitt. I have long looked forward to this moment."

"Never mind that," said Emerson. "What are you doing here? They said you had retired."

"I have. I live in scholarly seclusion, enjoying the modest fruits of my labors—my flowers and fountains, my books, my studies, other harmless—"

"Ha," said Emerson. "Your habits were not always so harmless, Riccetti. Come to the point. What do you want?"

"To be of service to you. Only the regard I feel for one so distinguished could have drawn me from my quiet courtyard, where the tinkle of fountains and the scent of roses ..." He broke off and raised a long pale hand, sparkling with gems. "Now, my friend, don't lose that notorious temper of yours, it is bad for your health. There are rumors in the suks that may affect your health as well. Did you have a visitor last evening?"

The flush of anger faded from Emerson's face, leaving it hard as granite. "You must know I did, or you would not ask."

"Would you care to tell me what transpired at that meeting?"

"No. Would you care to tell me why you have the impertinence to inquire? Do you know the fellow?"

"He was well known in certain circles."

"Those same circles in which you were once so prominent?"

"Whatever connections I once had were severed long ago. But I still. .. hear ... of certain matters."

Neither of them paid the least attention to me; eyes locked, they exchanged questions and answers in rapid succession, like fencers striking and parrying blows. I suspected this was not the first time they had faced one another thus, and that Emerson had learned that he must play the game by his opponent's rules if he hoped to gain any information.

He is not a patient man, however. His next question: "What matters?" was too blunt; it produced only a faint smile and a shrug.

Emerson tried again. "He called himself Saleh. What is his real name?"

"Leopold Abdullah Shelmadine. His father was English. He was employed as a clerk in the Interior Ministry."

Emerson was silent. He had not expected such a direct response. Before he could comment, Riccetti continued, "You can obtain his address at that office, but it would be a waste of your time to go looking for him. He did not return to his house last night, nor has he been seen since he entered the hotel."

"Good heavens, Emerson," I exclaimed. "Is not this confirmation of..."

Emerson turned on me, his eyes blazing. "Amelia, I beg that you will keep out of this. Can't you see that he is trying to trick you into an unguarded statement?"

"I?" I cried indignantly. "If he knows of me he should know such a device would never succeed."

"Quite," said Emerson, baring his teeth in such a way that I decided it would be wiser to refrain from further comment at that time.

"Quite," Riccetti repeated. "Your husband does both of us an injustice, Mrs. Emerson. I have given him more information than he has given me, and I will add one more word of friendly warning before I take my leave." He lifted his arms; the men crouching behind him leaped up and raised him to his feet. "Be on your guard, my friends. There are those who would prevent you from carrying out your plans and others who would help you if they could. Be sure, before you act, that you know one from the other. Good day, Mrs. Emerson; it has been an honor to meet you. Farewell, Emerson—until we meet again."

Leaning on his servants, he waddled toward the stairs.

We watched in silence until the top of the gold turban had sunk out of sight. Then Emerson led me to the rail. The litter must have been on board the boat, though I had not observed it; now it moved slowly down the gangplank, the gray silk curtains tightly closed, the muscular arms of the men who carried it straining to hold it level. Not until it had reached the bank and moved away did Emerson speak.

"He must have wanted something very badly to go to all that effort. I wonder if he obtained it."

"He wanted to know what had happened to Mr. Saleh—Mr. Shelmadine, rather." Emerson nodded, and I went on, "It was not necessary for you to silence me so peremptorily, my dear. I was well aware of what Riccetti was doing, and would never have betrayed anything of importance."

"Ha," said Emerson. Feet thudded up the stairs and he turned to address his son and heir. "Devil take it, Ramses, I told you to stay in the saloon."

"With all respect, sir, you did not. You told me, if memory serves, and I believe it does, to accompany Nefret to that chamber, which I did, and since I had the distinct impression that you meant her to remain there, though that command was not specifically expressed either, I remained as well, since she gave every indication of leaving—which," Ramses concluded, with a gasp and a start, "she has done."

Nefret, whose golden head was visible below him on the stairs, must have given him a sharp shove, producing the gasp and the start. He maintained his position, however, arms extended to prevent her from advancing any farther.

"Go back down," Emerson said.

"But Father, that gentleman—" he started again, and Nefret made a loud comment in Nubian. I recognized only Ramses's name, but entertained no illusions as to the import of the speech.

"Hell and damnation," shouted Emerson. "Curse it, I came here to show your dear mama the surprise I designed for her, and show her I will— every confounded cupboard, every cursed corner and every bloody nail in every wall! Get yourselves back down those stairs, both of you, or I will— I will—"

"Yes, Father, of course. Nefret will have to go first." Ramses glanced over his shoulder, smirking in a way that would have induced any right-thinking female to slap him. Nefret tried. She then descended, her heels clicking like castanets, and Ramses followed at a discreet distance.

"Such dear, obedient children," I remarked.

Emerson grinned. "Normal children, at any rate. Now come along and squeal with rapture at frequent intervals or I will—I will—"

He did—briefly, however, since sounds of verbal combat could be heard from below.

I took copious notes as we proceeded. There were—how well I remembered!—four staterooms, two on either side of a narrow passage, and a bathroom with water laid on. The saloon looked much as I remembered it, with high windows along the curved side; the ivory paneling had been freshly painted and the gilt trim renewed; with an indescribable thrill of emotion I realized that the crimon curtains might well be the same ones Evelyn and I had selected all those years ago. They were certainly faded and tattered enough. Emotion notwithstanding, they would have to be replaced. I made a note.

Emerson began to look a little surly as my list lengthened, and I had to increase the frequency and intensity of my squeals of rapture. They had an equally soothing effect on Abdullah. His look of apprehension (for he and I had had a number of little disagreements on the subject of proper accommodations) was soon replaced by a smile; and indeed I had not the heart to complain. I realized I would have to find some subterfuge in order to do the necessary shopping, since both Abdullah and Emerson were sublimely unconscious of any deficiencies.

"Tomorrow, then," Emerson declared. "We will come on board early, Abdullah. Have everything in readiness."

"Er—perhaps we ought to speak with the captain, Emerson," I suggested.

He and the other members of the crew had awaited us when we arrived; the exuberance of Abdullah's relations and the violent reaction of Emerson to the news of a visitor had prevented us from greeting them as we ought to have done. I made haste to compensate for this rudeness with an extravagant display of affability. The reis, a tall, upstanding chap with a neat black beard, looked so like Hassan, my former captain, that I was not surprised to learn he was the latter's son.

"I have heard many stories about you, Sitt Hakim," he said, his steady black eyes holding the same glint of humor with which his father had often regarded me.

"I'll wager you have," said Emerson. "Your esteemed father is well, I hope?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "So, Hassan, we will leave tomorrow."

Egyptians had become accustomed to Emerson's manners, which by Arab standards were uncouth in the extreme; Hassan smiled, but he informed us with the greatest possible courtesy that we could not possibly sail next day. The cook had been unable to obtain vegetables of the proper quality, the steersman had hurt his back, and so on. I had expected this, which was why I had not argued with Emerson about the time of departure. After some discussion and (on Emerson's part) cursing, a compromise was reached. We would depart on the Thursday, two days hence.

We retrieved the cat and Ramses from the saloon, where he had remained looking over the library, and returned to our carriage. Ramses had possessed a hat when we started out. When I asked him what had become of it he looked even blanker than usual.

"I regret to say that I do not know, Mother." Without drawing breath, he went on, "Who was that corpulent gentleman and what did he want?"

"I hope he is not a friend of yours," Nefret said. "What a horrible man! He looked like a statue of Taueret."

I had myself been struck by the resemblance. The goddess Taueret was often shown as a hippopotamus standing erect. In appearance she was certainly one of the most grotesque of all Egyptian deities, but her aspect was benevolent, for she was the patroness of childbirth. I said automatically, "One should not judge individuals by their appearance, Nefret."

"Nefret has it right, though," Emerson declared. "He
is
a horrible man. His name is Riccetti. Some years ago he was the Austrian consular agent in Luxor and one of the most successful antiquities dealers in the country."