Lion In The Valley Part 19

"In either case," I replied with equal heat, "it behooves us to learn more about Ronald Fraser. At least I can ascertain whether he was in Egypt last winter. He would have to enter the country in his true name, and he would probably have stayed for a time at Shepheard's.

Mr. Baehler can tell me whether this was the case."

"Your sweeping generalizations are, as usual, unfounded; but it can't do any harm to ask," Emerson grunted. "Here we are, Peabody; get your traps together."

The train pulled into the main station. Emerson opened the door of the carriage and turned with a benevolent smile to a.s.sist the old lady who had been our sole companion during the journey. She was sitting at the extreme end of the seat watching us with wide eyes, and when Emerson offered his hand she let out a scream.

"Get away!" she shrieked. "Murder-a.s.sa.s.sins- bats-leave me, monster!"

My attempts at rea.s.surance only maddened her more, and we were forced to abandon her. She appeared, poor creature, to be rather lacking in her wits.

We went first to police headquarters, on the Place Bab el-Khalk. Major Ramsay was rude enough to keep us waiting a good ten minutes, and I daresay it would have been longer had not Emerson, with his habitual impetuosity, brushed the protesting clerk aside and flung open the door to the inner office. A brisk exchange followed, in which I did not interfere since I felt Emerson's criticisms to be fully justified. During the discussion Emerson held a chair for me and sat down himself, so Ramsay finally resigned himself to the inevitable.

Emerson wasted no more time in compliments. "You are of course familiar, Ramsay, with the matter of the antiquities thieves Mrs. Emerson and I apprehended last season."

"I have your file here before me," Ramsay replied sourly, indicating a folder. "I was perusing it when you burst in; had you given me time to study it-" sourly, indicating a folder. "I was perusing it when you burst in; had you given me time to study it-"

"Well, the devil, man, how much time do you need to read a dozen pages?" Emerson demanded. "You ought to have known all about it anyway."

I deemed it appropriate to calm the troubled waters with a soothing comment. "May I suggest, Emerson, that we save valuable time by avoiding reproaches? We are here, Major Ramsay, because we want you to tell us all you know about the Master Criminal."

"Who?" Ramsay exclaimed.

"You may know him as 'the Master,' which is one of the names his henchmen call him. He is also known as Sethos."

Ramsay continued to stare at me with a particularly feeble-minded expression, so I tried again. "The head of the ring of antiquities thieves. If you have indeed read the report, you know that he unfortunately eluded us."

"Oh! Oh yes." With maddening deliberation Ramsay turned over the pages. "Yes, it is all here. Congratulations from M. de Morgan of the Department of Antiquities, from Sir Evelyn Baring-"

"Well, then," I said. "No doubt the police have been actively engaged in attempting to identify and locate this mastermind of crime. What progress have you made?"

"Mrs. Emerson." Ramsay closed the file and folded his hands. "The administration and the police are grateful to you for your efforts in closing down a ring of local thieves. All this talk of master criminals with outlandish aliases is absurd."

I put a restraining hand on Emerson's arm. "They know of Sethos in the bazaars," I said. "They whisper of the Master, and the dreadful revenge he takes on traitors to his revolting cause." of the Master, and the dreadful revenge he takes on traitors to his revolting cause."

Ramsay raised a hand to conceal his smile. "We pay no attention to the gossip of natives, Mrs. Emerson. They are such a superst.i.tious, ignorant lot; why, if we followed up every idle rumor, we would have no time to do anything else."

From Emerson's parted lips came bubbling sounds, like those of a kettle on the boil. "Please don't say such things, Major," I implored. "I cannot guarantee your safety if you continue in that vein. Since we arrived in Egypt less than a week ago, we have been several times attacked by this man, whose existence you deny. There was an attempt at abducting our son, and only this morning a shot fired from ambush narrowly missed me, and actually wounded Don-er-one of our a.s.sistants."

Ramsay was too obtuse to notice my momentary confusion. The smile had vanished from his face. "Have you reported these crimes, Mrs. Emerson?"

"Why, no. You see-"

"Why not?"

Emerson leaped to his feet. "Because," he bellowed, "the police are consummate fools, that is why. Come along, Amelia. This jackanapes knows less than we do. Come, I implore you, before I kick his desk to splinters and perpetrate indignities upon his person which I might later regret."

Emerson was still seething when we emerged from the building. "No wonder nothing is being done to stop the illegal trade in antiquities," he growled. "With a fool like that in charge-"

' 'Now, Emerson, calm yourself. The major has nothing to do with antiquities. You said yourself, you had no great hopes of learning anything from him."

"That is true." Emerson wiped his perspiring brow.

"I wish you had not been so hasty, Emerson. I wanted to ask how the investigation into Kalenischeff's death is progressing."

"Quite right, Peabody. It is all the fault of that cursed idiot Ramsay for distracting me. Let us go back and ask him."

"Emerson," I began. "I don't think-"

But Emerson had already started to retrace his steps. I had no choice but to follow. By running as fast as I could, I caught him up outside Ramsay's office. "Ah, there you are, Peabody," he said cheerfully. "Do try to keep up, will you? We have a great deal to do."

At the sight of Emerson the clerk fled through another door, and Emerson proceeded into the inner office. Ramsay jumped up and a.s.sumed a posture of defense, his back against the wall.

"Sit down, sit down," Emerson said genially. "No need to stand on ceremony; this won't take long. Ramsay, what is the state of the investigation into the murder of that villain Kalenischeff?"

"Er-what?" Ramsay sputtered.

"The fellow is very slow," Emerson explained to me. "One must be patient with such unfortunates." He raised his voice and spoke very slowly, as people do when they are addressing someone who is hard of hearing. "What-is-the-state-"

"I understood you the first time, Professor," Ramsay said, wincing.

"Speak up, then. I haven't got all day. Is the young lady still under suspicion?"

I think Ramsay had come to the conclusion that Emerson was some species of madman, and must be humored for fear he would become violent. "No," he said, with a strained smile. "I never believed she was guilty. It is out of the question for a gently bred lady to have committed such a crime." guilty. It is out of the question for a gently bred lady to have committed such a crime."

"That isn't what you told my wife," Emerson declared.

"Er-didn't I?" Ramsay transferred his stiff smile to the madman's wife. "I beg your pardon. Perhaps she misunderstood."

"Never mind, Major," I said. "Whom do you suspect, then?"

"A certain beggar, who was often outside Shepheard's. One of the safragis claims to have seen him inside the hotel that night."

"And the motive?" I inquired calmly.

Ramsay shrugged. "Robbery, no doubt. I haven't much hope of finding the fellow. They all look alike, you know."

"Only to idiots and ignoramuses," said Emerson.

"Oh, quite, quite, quite, Professor. Er-I meant to say, they all stick together, you know; we will never get an identification from the other beggars. One of them actually had the effrontery to tell me the fellow was English." Ramsay laughed. "Can you imagine?"

Emerson and I exchanged glances. He shrugged contemptuously. "And what of Miss Debenham," I asked. "Have you found no trace of her?"

Ramsay shook his head. "I fear the worst," he said portentously.

"That she is dead?"

"Worse than that."

"I don't see what could be worse than that," Emerson remarked.

"Oh, Emerson, don't be ironic," I said. "He is referring to the cla.s.sic fate worse than death-an a.s.sessment made, I hardly need add, by men. Major, are you really naive enough to believe that Miss Debenham has been sold into white slavery?" really naive enough to believe that Miss Debenham has been sold into white slavery?"

"Slavery has not been stamped out," Ramsay insisted. "Despite our efforts."

"I know that, of course. But the unfortunates who suffer this fate-and I agree, it is a ghastly fate-are poor children of both s.e.xes, many of whom are sold by their own families. The dealers in that filthy trade would not dare abduct an Englishwoman out of the very walls of Shepheard's Hotel."

"Then what has become of her?" Ramsay asked. "She could not remain concealed for long, a woman with no knowledge of the language, the customs-"

"You underestimate our s.e.x, sir," I said, frowning. "Next time we meet you may have cause to amend your opinion, and I will expect an apology."

After we left the office I heard the key turn in the lock.

"So much for that," said Emerson as, for the second time, we emerged into the street. "Not very useful, was it?"

"No. Well, Emerson, what next?"

Emerson hailed a carriage and handed me into it. "I will meet you later at Shepheard's," he said. "Wait for me on the terrace if you finish your interrogation before I arrive."

"And where are you going?"

"To the bazaars, to pursue the course I mentioned."

"I will go with you."

"That would be ill-advised, Peabody. The negotiations I mean to pursue are of the most delicate nature. My informants will be reluctant to talk at all; the presence of a third party, even you, might silence them."

His argument could not be gainsaid. Emerson had a rare, I might even say unique, rapprochement with Egyptians of all varieties and social cla.s.ses, stemming from his eloquence in invective, his formidable strength, his colloquial command of the language, and-it pains me to admit-his complete contempt for the Christian religion. To be sure, Emerson was tolerantly and equally contemptuous of Islam, Buddhism, Judaism, and all other faiths, but his Egyptian friends were only concerned about the religion they equate with foreign domination over their country. Other archaeologists claimed to have good relations with their workers-Petrie, I am sorry to say, was always boasting about it-but their att.i.tude was always tempered with the condescension of the "superior race" toward a lesser breed. Emerson made no such distinctions. To him a man was not an Englishman or a "native," but only a man. Egyptians of all varieties and social cla.s.ses, stemming from his eloquence in invective, his formidable strength, his colloquial command of the language, and-it pains me to admit-his complete contempt for the Christian religion. To be sure, Emerson was tolerantly and equally contemptuous of Islam, Buddhism, Judaism, and all other faiths, but his Egyptian friends were only concerned about the religion they equate with foreign domination over their country. Other archaeologists claimed to have good relations with their workers-Petrie, I am sorry to say, was always boasting about it-but their att.i.tude was always tempered with the condescension of the "superior race" toward a lesser breed. Emerson made no such distinctions. To him a man was not an Englishman or a "native," but only a man.

I see that I have digressed. I do not apologize. The complex n.o.bility of Emerson's character is worthy of an even longer digression.

However, I felt certain there was another reason why he preferred I should not accompany him. In his bachelor days, before I met him and civilized him, Emerson had a widespread acquaintance in certain circles he was not anxious for me to know about. Respecting his scruples and his right to privacy, I never attempted to intrude into this part of his past.

Feeling that I was ent.i.tled to the same consideration from him, I did not feel it necessary to inform him that I had business of my own in the old section, and that if he expected me to sit meekly on the terrace of Shepheard's until he condescended to appear, he was sadly mistaken. First, however, there were my inquiries at the hotel to be made, so I allowed the carriage driver to follow Emerson's directions.

However, Mr. Baehler was a sad disappointment. He absolutely refused to allow me to examine the hotel registers for the previous winter. Upon my persisting, he finally agreed to consult them himself, and he a.s.sured me that Mr. Ronald Fraser had not been a guest at the hotel during that period. I was disappointed, but not downhearted; Ronald might have stayed at another hostelry.

I then asked the name of the safragi who had been on duty at the time of Kalenischeff's murder. As I had expected from a man of Mr. Baehler's efficiency, he knew the names and duties of every employee in the hotel, but again I met with a check. The person in question, whose a.s.signment had been the third-floor wing, was no longer in the employ of the hotel.

"He had a bit of good luck," Baehler said with a smile. "An aged relative died and left him a large sum of money. He has retired to his village and I hear he is living like a pasha."

"And what village is that?" I asked.

Baehler shrugged. "I don't remember. It is far to the south, near a.s.suan. But really, Mrs. Emerson, if it is information concerning the murder you want, you are wasting your time looking for him. The police questioned him at length."

"I see. I understand the police have fixed on some anonymous beggar as the killer, and that Miss Debenham is no longer under suspicion."

"So I believe. If you will excuse me, Mrs. Emerson, I am expecting a large party-"

"One more thing, Mr. Baehler, and I will detain you no longer. The name of the safragi who was on duty in our part of the hotel while we were here."

"I hope you don't suspect him of wrongdoing," Baehler exclaimed. "He is a responsible man who has been with us for years."

I rea.s.sured him, and upon learning that the man in question was even now at his station, I dismissed Mr. Baehler with thanks, and went upstairs. question was even now at his station, I dismissed Mr. Baehler with thanks, and went upstairs.

I remembered the safragi well-a lean, grizzled man of middle age, with a quiet voice and pleasant features marred only when he smiled by a set of brown, broken teeth.

The fellow's smile was without guile, however, and he answered my questions readily. Alas, he could not remember anything unusual about the porters who had delivered our parcels. There had been a number of deliveries from a number of different shops; some of the men were known to him, some were not.

I thanked and rewarded him and left him to the peaceful nap my arrival had interrupted. I was convinced he was unwitting. His demeanor was that of an innocent man, and besides, if he had been aware of the ident.i.ty of the delivery man, he would have been pensioned off, like the other safragi-who was, I felt sure, the same one who had claimed to have seen Donald inside the hotel. Sethos rewarded his loyal a.s.sistants liberally.

Since some of my inquiries had proved abortive, I found myself with plenty of time to carry out my other business, and I determined to proceed with it rather than pause for luncheon. Emerson would be occupied for several more hours, and if I hurried, I could be back at the hotel before he got there.

I was crossing the lobby when the concierge intercepted me. "Mrs. Emerson! This letter was left for you."

"How extraordinary," I said, examining the superscripture, which was in an unfamiliar hand. There was no question of a mistake, however, for the name was my own, and in full: Amelia Peabody Emerson. "Who was the person who left it?"

"I did not recognize the gentleman, madam. He is not a guest at the hotel."

I thanked the concierge and hastened to open the sealed envelope. The message within was brief, but the few lines set my pulses leaping. "Have important information. Will be at the Cafe Orientale between one-thirty and two." It was signed "T. Gregson."

I had almost forgotten the famous private detective- as perhaps you have also, dear Reader. Apparently he had seen me enter the hotel. But why had he written a note instead of speaking to me personally?

I consulted my watch. The timing could not have been better. I could visit the shop of Aziz before keeping the appointment with Gregson.

Do not suppose, Reader, that I was unconscious of the peculiarity of the arrangement. There was a chance I might be walking into a trap. Mr. Gregson could not be Sethos; his eyes were not black, but a soft velvety brown. Yet he might be an ally of that enigmatic villain, or someone else might have used his name in order to lure me into his toils.

This seemed, on the whole, unlikely. I knew the Cafe Orientale; it was on the Muski, in a respectable neighborhood much frequented by the foreign community. And if my suspicion was correct-if Sethos himself lay in wait for me-I was ready for him. I was alert and on guard, I had my parasol and my belt of tools.

However, I felt it advisable to take one precaution. Going into the writing room, I inscribed a brief note to Emerson, telling him where I was going and a.s.suring him, in closing, that if I did not return he was to console himself with the knowledge that our deep and tender love had enriched my life and, I trusted, his own.

Upon rereading this, I found it a trifle pessimistic, so I added a postscript. "My dear Emerson, I do not suppose that the M.C. will slaughter me out of hand, since it would be more in character for him to hold me prisoner in order to arouse in you the anguish of uncertainty as to my fate. I feel confident that if I cannot effect my own escape, you will eventually find and free me. This is not farewell, then, but only au revoir, au revoir, from your most devoted, et cetera, et cetera." from your most devoted, et cetera, et cetera."

I left the envelope at the desk with instructions to give it to Emerson no earlier than 5 P.M. if I had not collected it myself before then.

Feeling in need of exercise to work off the excited antic.i.p.ation that poured through my veins, I did not take a carriage but set off on foot toward the shop. Aziz was a singularly unpleasant little man, but he was the sole survivor of a family that had been intimately connected with the Master Criminal. His father and his brother had been involved in the illegal antiquities trade; both had met terrible ends the previous year, though admittedly not at the hands of Sethos. Aziz had inherited his father's stock of antiquities and perhaps (as I hoped) his father's connection with the genius of crime. It was worth a try, at any rate.

Aziz was out in front of his shop, calling to pa.s.sersby to come in and view his wares. He recognized me immediately; his fixed tradesman's smile turned into a look of consternation, and he darted inside.

It was a tawdry place, its shelves and showcases filled with cheap tourist goods and fake antiquities, many of them made in Birmingham. Aziz was nowhere to be seen. The clerk behind the showcase was staring at the swaying curtain through which his employer had presumably fled. There were no customers; most of the tourists were at luncheon, and the shop would soon be closing for the afternoon.

"Tell Mr. Aziz I wish to see him," I said loudly. "I won't leave until he comes out, so he may as well do it now." won't leave until he comes out, so he may as well do it now."

I knew Aziz was in the back room and could hear every word I said. It took him a few minutes to make up his cowardly mind, but finally he emerged, smiling broadly. The lines in his face looked like cracks in plaster, one had the feeling that if the smile stretched another half inch, the whole facade would crumble and drop off.

He greeted me with bows and cries of delight. He was so happy I had honored his establishment. What could he show me? He had received a s.h.i.+pment of embroidered brocades from Damascus, woven with gold threads- I did not much care for Mr. Aziz, so I did not attempt to spare his feelings. "I want to talk to you about Sethos," I said.