Lion In The Valley Part 5

"How can you suggest such a thing, Emerson, when we still have hours of work ahead of us? There are boxes to be unpacked, your notes to set in order, my medicine chest to arrange-" boxes to be unpacked, your notes to set in order, my medicine chest to arrange-"

"Curse it," said Emerson. "Oh, very well, I don't suppose you need me-"

"I could certainly use-"

"In that case, I will just run along. Ramses?"

"Thank you, Papa. I was in hopes you would proffer the invitation and in fact I had determined I would ask permission to accompany you if you did not see fit-"

"I did see fit," said Emerson. "Come, then."

Nemo got to his feet. "You needn't come," Emerson said amiably. "I can watch after Ramses."

"I would much rather-" Nemo began.

"I require your a.s.sistance," I said.

"But, Professor-"

"No, no, young man, I don't need you and Mrs. Emerson does. Duty before pleasure, you know, duty before pleasure."

Nemo sank down again, glowering. I waited until Emerson and Ramses had left before I spoke. "I believe I would like a whiskey," I said musingly. "Will you join me, Mr. Nemo?"

Nemo gaped at me. "I beg your pardon, madam?"

"You will find the bottle and the gla.s.ses on the table in the parlor. If you will be so good as to fetch them..."

He did as I asked, and watched curiously as I filled the gla.s.ses. "To Her Majesty," I said, raising my gla.s.s. "G.o.d bless her."

"Uh-er-quite," said Mr. Nemo, raising his.

The appet.i.te of an opium eater is usually poor. He had eaten very little, and the alcoholic beverage took effect quite rapidly. As I had hoped, the familiar ritual, well loved by all loyal Englishmen (and women) also had a soothing effect. Nemo took a chair instead of squatting. "This is the first whiskey I have had for- for many months," he said, half to himself. squatting. "This is the first whiskey I have had for- for many months," he said, half to himself.

"I am a great believer in the medicinal effects of good whiskey," I explained. "Particularly in the treatment of fatigue and minor nervous disorders. Naturally I would never condone an excessive dependence on it, but no reasonable person could possibly object to a civilized and moderate application. As compared, for instance, to opium-"

Nemo slumped forward, his head bowed. "I knew it," he muttered. "Please spare me the lecture, Mrs. Emerson. You are wasting your time and mine."

"We have yet to discuss the terms of your employment, Mr. Nemo. You can hardly suppose I would allow you to consume drugs of any kind while on duty. Watching over Ramses requires every ounce of alertness and energy a man can summon up."

The young man's tousled head sank lower. "I have neither quality left."

"Nonsense. You were alert enough the other evening; you can summon energy enough when it is needed. I am not asking you to abandon your disgusting habit altogether, Mr. Nemo, only to refrain from it at such times when you are responsible for Ramses. Is that too much to ask?"

Nemo did not reply, but I thought I detected a stiffening of his form. I went on persuasively, "I will give you one day a week to yourself. That is excessively generous, but generosity is a favorite virtue of mine. Sink yourself in a degrading stupor on that day, if you must, but remain alert the rest of the time. I will be happy to dispense a reasonable quant.i.ty of whiskey whenever-''

I broke off, for his bent shoulders were heaving convulsively and sounds like m.u.f.fled sobs escaped from his lips. I had touched some tender chord; I had roused some forgotten spark of manhood! He had not fallen so low as I had feared. He might yet be redeemed, not only from his loathsome habit but from the despicable toils of the Master Criminal. What a triumph that would be! lips. I had touched some tender chord; I had roused some forgotten spark of manhood! He had not fallen so low as I had feared. He might yet be redeemed, not only from his loathsome habit but from the despicable toils of the Master Criminal. What a triumph that would be!

Nemo sat up straight and raised his head. The rays of the setting sun cast his features in sharp outline and glittered off the tears that streaked his cheeks. "Mrs. Emerson ..." But he could not master his emotion; his voice failed, and his chest heaved with sighs he could not restrain.

"I understand, Mr. Nemo. Say no more. Or rather, say only that you will try."

He nodded speechlessly.

"Would you care for another whiskey?" I asked, reaching for the bottle.

The kindly gesture was too much for the young man. With a broken cry he rose and fled into the house.

I had another small whiskey. I felt I deserved it. The interview had gone much better than I had expected. In judging the young man I had forgotten to take into account the well-known habits of master criminals. Their evil webs snare rich and poor, guilty and innocent in their tangled strands (as I had once put it, rather neatly, in my opinion). In the case of young Mr. Nemo, some relatively harmless escapade might have rendered him vulnerable to blackmail and enabled the M.C. (if I may be permitted to use that more convenient abbreviation) to entwine him in his toils. Perhaps he (Mr. Nemo) yearned to free himself and return to decent society.

Lost in such delightful thoughts, I sat musing until the sudden night of Egypt eclipsed the dying sun and the moonlight crept crepuscularly across the courtyard. Lamplight and the sound of laughing voices issued from the hut in which our men had taken up their abode.

Reluctantly I rose to return to the duties I had mentioned.

I had selected the larger of the two front rooms to serve as our sitting room and office. Our camp chairs and little stove had been set up, and a few oriental rugs on the floor added a colorful note; but there were still half a dozen boxes to be unpacked. I set to work arranging my medical supplies, for I knew the first light of dawn would bring the usual pathetic sufferers to our door. Doctors, much less hospitals, were almost unknown outside of the large cities, and the villagers naively a.s.sumed all Europeans were physicians. In my case, at any rate, their hopes were not disappointed.

Ramses and Emerson finally came in, both wanting to tell me about the site. I cut their raptures short, for there was really no sense to be got out of them, and sent Ramses to bed. The cat Bastet seemed disinclined to join him, but when Ramses lifted her off the packing case she was sniffing and carried her away, she did not resist.

"Drinking again, I see, Peabody," said Emerson, inspecting the remains of my whiskey. "How often have I warned you about the evils of the demon rum?"

"You will have your little joke, Emerson. It was an experiment, in fact, and one that succeeded brilliantly. Mr. Nemo is a cas.h.i.+ered army officer! He was once in the service of Her Majesty-"

"Calmly, Peabody, if you please. What did you do, get him drunk and induce a confession?"

I explained. Emerson was in an excellent humor; for once he listened without interrupting. Then he said, "You deduced Mr. Nemo's entire military history solely from his response to your toast?"

"No, no, that was merely the final proof. Everything points to it, Emerson-the young man's carriage, his manner, his speech." points to it, Emerson-the young man's carriage, his manner, his speech."

"Well, you may be right, Peabody. I had begun to wonder about that myself."

"Ha," I exclaimed.

Emerson grinned. "I know, I know; I always claim to have antic.i.p.ated your deductions-and you do the same to me, Peabody, admit it. But this time I was not trying to do you in the eye. It was the most obvious conclusion. Such cases are, unhappily, not infrequent. And no wonder! Take a young man with no experience of the world, thrust him into an alien land filled with exotic temptations, fill him full of a lot of bilge about his superiority over lesser breeds of men-and all women!-segregate him from everyone except members of his own s.e.x and social cla.s.s ..."

He went on for some time. I let him get it out of his system-for the time being. It was one of Emerson's chief aggravations and the subject would certainly arise again, as it had done often before. He had refused to allow Ramses to attend school, and in this case I had to agree with him. Any educational system that separates the s.e.xes and denies women equal intellectual opportunities is obviously a poor system.

Finally Emerson wound down. He gave himself a shake and mopped his perspiring brow. "At any rate, Peabody, I am glad to see you have given up your nonsensical notions about master-er-about Mr. Nemo's criminal a.s.sociations."

I smiled to myself but did not reply. Emerson enjoys our little arguments as much as I do; they are, if I may invent a striking metaphor, the pepper in the soup of marriage. However, I felt he had had enough excitement for one evening and I was anxious to finish and get to bed.

His thoughts had turned to the same subject. After a moment he said, "I found a very pleasant little pit in the rock, Peabody. With a bit of canvas for a roof and a trifle of the sweeping and scrubbing you women seem to consider necessary, it would make a most agreeable sleeping chamber."

"For whom, Emerson?"

I had my back turned, but I heard the creak of his chair and the elephantine tread of Emerson trying to tiptoe. His arms stole around my waist. "Whom do you think, Peabody?"

I felt a warm moist touch on my neck, just under my ear. Much as I would have liked Emerson to pursue this interesting course, I forced myself to be firm. "All in due time, Emerson. I have two more boxes to unpack."

"Leave them till morning."

"They may contain articles we will need first thing in the morning. I have not yet found the teakettle... Do stop it, Emerson. I cannot concentrate when you ... Oh, Emerson! Now, Emerson ..."

Nothing was said for some time. Eventually a persistent sound, like that of a file rasping on wood, penetrated my absorption. Emerson heard it too; his grasp on my person loosened, and I attempted, not entirely successfully, to straighten my disheveled attire before I turned toward the door. No one was there. I felt certain, however, that Ramses had been watching. The purring of his feline companion had given him away and had forced him to beat a hasty retreat.

It seemed pointless to pursue the matter, or Ramses. Silently I turned back to the labors Emerson's affectionate demonstration had interrupted. As is occasionally his habit, Emerson turned his annoyance at the disturbance, not on the perpetrator, but on the nearest object-me.

"It has taken you a devil of a time to unpack," he grumbled.

"If you had condescended to stay and help, I would be done."

"Then why didn't you say so? That is just like a woman. They always expect a fellow to read their minds-"

"The most rudimentary intelligence would have made it evident-"

"And then they whine and complain when-"

"Whine, indeed! When have you ever heard me-"

"I admit the word is inappropriate. Shout would be more-"

"How can you-"

"How can you you-"

We were both out of breath by then and had to pause to take in oxygen. Then Emerson said cheerfully, "You were quite right, Peabody; this parcel is one I remember and it does indeed contain a new teakettle, which I purchased in the suk. I seemed to recall that the kettle of last season had become sadly dented after I used it to kill a cobra."

"It was clever of you to think of it, Emerson. I confess that the incident of the cobra had quite slipped my mind. What is in this last parcel?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps it contains some of the things we left Abdullah to pack and bring here from Mazghunah."

He had taken out his pocket knife and was cutting the cords binding the parcel that contained the kettle. The merchants in the bazaar knew only two styles of packing-one used no string at all, so that the parcel fell apart in transit; the other employed vast quant.i.ties of heavy rope even when the parcel was only to be carried a few yards. The package I was inspecting was of the second variety, and I had to borrow Emerson's knife to undo it. of the second variety, and I had to borrow Emerson's knife to undo it.

He unpacked the kettle and some pots and pans, and turned to put them on the table.

"Emerson," I said. "Look here."

In a flash Emerson was at my side. He knows every tone of my voice, and on this occasion the few simple words quivered with the intensity of the inexpressible sensations that filled me.

"What is it, Peabody?" He looked into the box. I had pushed aside the top layer of straw. The curved sides of the vessel within gleamed in the lamplight with a soft l.u.s.ter.

Emerson reached for it. With a shriek I caught his arm and clung to it. "No, Emerson! Watch out!"

"What the devil, Peabody, it is only an old pot. A pot made of..." His breath caught. "Silver?"

"It is not the vessel itself I fear, but what may be concealed in the straw. A scorpion, a snake, a poisonous spider ... Where are your gloves-the heavy work gloves?"

For a wonder they were where they were supposed to be, in the pocket of his coat. When I started to draw on the gloves, he took them from me, and performed the task himself. I was in a perfect quiver of apprehension until he had removed the last of the objects from the container. He then overturned it, spilling the packing material onto the floor.

"No spiders, no snakes," he remarked, shoving the straw about with his booted toe. "Obviously you are in possession of information I lack, Peabody. Would you care to explain why you expected a s.h.i.+pment of venomous animals, and how you came into possession of what appear to be antique vessels of... antique vessels ... No. No! I don't believe it. Don't tell me-"

"Obviously I needn't tell you," I replied. Normally I am tolerant of Emerson's little fits of temper, for they relieve an excess of spleen; but this situation was too serious for theatrics. A sense, not of fear but of awe, as in the presence of something larger and more powerful than myself, stole over me. "These are indeed the communion vessels stolen from the church of Sitt Miriam at Dronkeh. Stolen by that villain, that wretch, that consummate master of evil, that genius of crime ..."

I waited for him to voice an objection to the words he knew I was about to use, but he was incapable of speech. Flushed of countenance, bulging as to his eyeb.a.l.l.s, he continued to stare at me in silence, and I concluded, "None other than-the Master Criminal!"

Four.

Emerson had never seen the famous communion vessels, since he has a const.i.tutional aversion to organized religion and refuses to enter a church, mosque, or synagogue. He had to take my word for it, but even if he had presumed to doubt my identification, the conclusion would have been forced upon him. The vessels taken from the church at Dronkeh had been valuable antiques, centuries old. There could not be many such sets of objects hanging about, as Emerson glumly and vulgarly expressed it.

"But why return them?" he demanded. Then his expression lightened. "Wait-wait, Peabody, I have it. The thief was not your cursed Master Criminal, but an amateur who yielded to a sudden temptation, hoping the theft would be blamed on the Master Criminal. He has repented, and has returned them."

"To us? Were that the case, Emerson, the repentant thief would have returned the objects to the church. It is a challenge from our old adversary, Emerson; it can be nothing else." thief would have returned the objects to the church. It is a challenge from our old adversary, Emerson; it can be nothing else."

"Peabody, I thoroughly dislike your trick of selecting one theory out of a plethora of them and loudly proclaiming it to be the only possible solution. My explanation makes as much sense as yours."

Upon further discussion, Emerson was forced to agree that the parcel must have been among those brought with us from Cairo. Its neat style of wrapping would have stood out like a sore thumb in the things Abdullah had caused to be transported from Mazghunah, for Abdullah's notion of packing was to throw everything into a sack and toss it over the back of a donkey.

We further agreed that it would be the simplest thing in the world for someone to slip the parcel in among the others Emerson had ordered from the bazaar. One of the hotel safragi's duties was to take deliveries and place them in our room, and there was no reason why he would have taken special notice of any particular parcel.

"Quite true," I said thoughtfully. "And yet, Emerson, I have a strange feeling about that parcel. I cannot tell you how I know, but I am convinced that the Master Criminal delivered it himself. That we were under observation all that day; that our departure from the hotel was noted; that had we been present, we would have seen a man stroll calmly along the corridor, parcel in hand, eluding the safragi-who is, as you know, sound asleep most of the time-entering our room, placing his parcel among the others-pausing to gloat over our discomfiture and our bewilderment..."

"Your intuition tells you so, I presume," said Emerson, with a halfhearted sneer.

"Something other than intuition. What it is I cannot say... Ah, I have it!" I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the discarded wrappings and turned them over in my hand. Yes, there it was; I had not imagined it-a spot of what appeared to be grease or fat, as large as the palm of my hand. I raised it to my nostrils and sniffed. "I knew it!" I cried in triumph. "Here, Emerson, smell for yourself."

Emerson s.h.i.+ed back as I held the paper to his face. "Good Gad, Amelia-"

"Smell it. Just there, the spot of grease. Well?"

"Well, it is animal fat of some kind," Emerson grumbled. "Mutton or chicken. What is so significant about that? These people are not given to the use of knives and forks, they eat with their fingers and..." Then his face changed, and I knew that his intelligence, equal to my own, had arrived at the same conclusion. I also knew he was too stubborn to admit it.

"Chicken fat," I said. "No wonder the cat Bastet refused the meat Ramses brought from Mena House. She had been stuffed with chicken. Emerson, that villain-that remarkable, clever wretch-has seduced our cat!"

Emerson did not dispute my deduction. He ridiculed it, he derided it, he scoffed at it. He kept this up even after we had retired. Our mattresses had been placed side by side atop the roof. The cool breeze, the soft moonlight, the exquisite but indescribable scent of the desert-even the smell of donkey droppings, wafting from the courtyard below-should have induced a state of mind conducive to connubial affection of the strongest kind; and yet, for almost the first time in our marriage, Emerson's demonstrations were inadequate to the purpose. He was ridiculously upset about it.

"I keep expecting to see Ramses' head pop up over the edge of the screen," he groaned. "I cannot concentrate, Amelia. Tomorrow night we will move to the pit. Ramses will be perfectly safe here with Nemo in the next room and our men guarding the compound."

"Much as I would enjoy sleeping in the spot you describe, Emerson, I don't think it would be wise. Not after the reminder we have just received of the awesome malice and powers of the Master Criminal. We have scarcely been in Egypt three days, and already he has challenged us twice. We are in deep waters, Emerson, very deep indeed. Was the attempt on Ramses meant to succeed, or was it only a demonstration of what the man can do if he chooses? One result of that adventure, if you recall, was the advent of Mr. Nemo in our midst."

Midway in this speech Emerson had pulled the blanket over his head and was pretending to snore. I knew I still had his attention, however, for the part of his body that adjoined my own was as rigid as a board.

"Was that perhaps the Master Criminal's intent?" I went on thoughtfully. "To insert a confederate into our confidence? And the return of the communion vessels is another enigma. Why should he give up his loot? I tell you, Emerson, the subtle machinations of that great criminal brain-"

Emerson sat up with a roar whose reverberations echoed through the quiet night. As if in answer came the queer, coughing cry of a jackal prowling the desert waste.