Crocodile On The Sandbank Part 36

We had eaten one of the vilest dinners imaginable. It had been cooked by Abdullah; he explained that Lucas's cook and the waiter who had accompanied us to camp that morning were not to be found. I found this alarming, but Emerson, who was in an inexplicably good mood, shrugged it away.

We were all sitting on the ledge together, watching the moon rise; but Emerson and I might as well have been alone, for all the conversation we got out of the other two. They didn't hear a word anyone said to them. I was therefore forced to confide my worries about Lucas to Emerson, although I did not expect to find much concern in that quarter. In this a.s.sumption I was correct.

"He has probably gone with his men," Emerson said calmly. "I think, Peabody, that we have seen the last of his lords.h.i.+p."

"You mean- he has deserted us? He would not be so cowardly!"

"I fancy he might. But let me do him justice; he has not abandoned us to danger. Indeed, I think it possible that we have also seen the last of the Mummy."

"Nonsense," I said irritably. "Lucas could not have been the Mummy. We saw them together on more than one occasion."

"I may be wrong," said Emerson- in a tone that contradicted the false modesty of his words. "His suggestion- which had also occurred to me- may be the correct one: that there is an unrobbed tomb back in the hills which the villagers hope to exploit. In any case, it must be obvious even to you, Peabody, that the instigator of the plot is not an Egyptian; it contains too many features that could have been invented only by a European or an Englishman. Or perhaps an American; they have their share of unscrupulous collectors -----"

"What are you talking about?"

"Professional jealousy, Peabody. No doubt it seems incredible to you that any reasonable man would act so, but I a.s.sure you, there are colleagues in my field who would go to any extreme to exploit a sensational discovery such as a royal tomb. I have the concession at Amarna; I had a devil of a time wringing it out of Maspero, but not even he would dare take it away now. The man is quite capable of employing such tricks to make me abandon my excavation and leave the field open to him. Another feather in his cap! Not that Maspero is the only one- "

"Of all the absurd ideas!"

"What is the alternative? If not the place, it is a person who is under attack. I have no enemies- "

"Ha," I said.

"A few individuals may resent my justified criticism," Emerson said meditatively. "Yes; I daresay there are some individuals so degraded that they might respond to my well-intended suggestions with rancor-"

"If anyone murders you," I interrupted, "which seems quite likely, it will be in the heat of anger, with a club or some other convenient blunt instrument. I am only surprised it has not happened before this."

"My enemies are professional, not personal," Emerson insisted. "Walter has none, of either kind. His character is regrettably mild. Are you sure there are no discarded lovers pursuing you?"

The question did not deserve an answer. After a moment, Emerson went on, "Then it must be Miss Evelyn who inspires such agitated activity on the part of our unknown enemy. If that is the case, the events of this evening must settle the question. His lords.h.i.+p, having received his congee, has departed- "

The rattle of pebbles on the path below disproved his words as soon as they were spoken. I knew the step.

The moon was a spectacular silver orb, almost at the full, shedding a silvery radiance over the silent desert, the river, the cliffs. The light was not quite bright enough for me to distinguish Emerson's expression. I much regretted that.

"Lucas," I said, turning to welcome the newcomer with a warmth I had not heretofore displayed.

"I am relieved you are back. I was worried about you."

"How kind of you." Lucas looked, betrayingly, into the shadows behind us, where Evelyn and Walter were sitting. Receiving no greeting from that quarter, his eyes returned to me. "I felt the need of a walk.

I have walked; I have accomplished my purpose. You did not suppose I would desert you?"

"I felt sure you would not," I said. From Emerson, beside me, came no comment. "Of course not. Tomorrow I will endeavor to forget certain ... personal griefs in hard work; it will be delightful to explore the cliffs for buried treasure. In the meantime, I remembered Emerson's suggestion; I have brought a bottle of wine, in which to drink to my cousin."

I could not help shooting a triumphant glance at Emerson. He sat in glum silence, his face in shadow; only his hand was visible, clenched whitely on the arm of his chair. I don't know why I should have been so pleased to see Lucas behaving like a gentleman for a change. I never liked the man. . . . But of course I do know why. I would have defended Satan himself if he had been in disfavor with Emerson.

Lucas was as good as his word; it was as if he had determined to humble himself as thoroughly as possible. He carried a tray with gla.s.ses and a bottle; putting this down, with a flourish that struck me as rather pathetic, he began to work at the cork.

"Won't you persuade Evelyn to join us?" he asked in a low voice. "I dare not; to be candid, I am ashamed of myself for my behavior this afternoon. I am of a pa.s.sionate nature; I suppose dear old Grandfather would say it was my Latin blood."

So I called Evelyn, and she came out of the deep shadow where she had been sitting, holding Walter by the hand and smiling shyly at her cousin. I found his excuses inadequate. Nothing could possibly excuse his reference to her misfortune in front of Walter. But, on the other hand, this very reference had brought about the present happy state of affairs, and I must say that Lucas made his apologies like a man and a Briton. Walter received them in the same spirit; to see the two young fellows clasp hands, there in the moonlight, was a touching sight.

Then Lucas handed us each a gla.s.s and raised his own. "To Evelyn's future!" he cried. "May it bring all that her closest kinsman could desire!"

We drank. Even Emerson took a sip. He made a face, like a nasty little boy taking medicine. He had moved his chair out near the table, and I could see him quite well; his expression of sour disapproval pleased me no end. Seeing that he was in no mood to do the proper thing, and realizing that it was a little too much to expect of Lucas, I proposed the next toast.

"To Walter! May he make Evelyn as happy as she deserves-or I will deal with him!"

"Spoken with characteristic tact," said Emerson under his breath. Walter leaned forward and put his hand on mine.

"You may deal with me as you see fit, Miss Amelia," he said warmly. "Don't think I shall ever forget that it is to your encouragement, in large measure, that I owe my present happiness. I hope you will be often with us; you may keep your eye on me that way and make sure I measure up to your expectations."

Emerson rolled his eyes heavenward.

"I may take advantage of your invitation," I said cheerfully. "I have developed quite a taste for archaeology."

I suppose it was the wine that made me feel so giddy. We all waxed cheerful under its benign influence- all but Emerson, who sat brooding like a hard stone statue. Finally, when the bottle was empty, Lucas concluded the fete.

"If all goes well, we shall have a busy day tomorrow. Rest is advisable. I suggest, gentlemen, that we stand watch tonight. Tomorrow may bring an end to the mysteries that surround us; let us make sure no mishap occurs tonight."

"Just what I was about to suggest," muttered Emerson, shooting a piercing glance at Lucas. "Which watch would you prefer, my lord?"

Lucas replied with a shrug. It was arranged that he should remain on guard for the first three hours of the night, Emerson for the second watch, and Walter for the remainder. I carried Evelyn off to our sleeping chamber; she was in such a fog her feet seemed not to touch the ground, and after a few incoherent exclamations of grat.i.tude and joy, she quickly fell asleep.

I was drowsy myself, unusually so, for the hour was still early; yet my drooping eyelids obstinately refused to remain shut. Some indefinable nagging discomfort kept forcing them open. The discomfort was purely mental; I had become inured by then to the hard mattress and the other rugged accompaniments to camping out. There is nothing more abominable than being in a state of bodily exhaustion and mental irritation; I was too lethargic to get up and seek some means of occupying my mind, but I was too uneasy to fall asleep. Try as I might, I could not pin down the cause of my uneasiness. We were, of course, in danger of a nocturnal visit from a singularly unpleasant apparition, but that was not what bothered me; I was becoming accustomed to that worry, it was like a familiar ache in a particular tooth. I thought if it continued much longer I should probably become quite accustomed to it. No, this was another sort of twinge; I could not locate it. I ought to have been in a state of peaceful triumph; I had won out over Emerson and attained what I most desired for the girl who was so dear to me-

Had I won out, though?

The more I recalled Emerson's behavior and speech that day, the more I wondered. It was almost as if he had been working to attain the same end; everything he had said was a spur, a p.r.i.c.k, a goad, to urge his brother on to a declaration. I ground my teeth together. If Emerson wanted Evelyn for his brother, he must have some ulterior motive that escaped me.

There came a sound, at the entrance to the tomb chamber. The curtain was lifted. I rolled over. The rough mattress crackled. "Who is it?" I whispered. "Lucas, is that you?"

"Yes. What is wrong, Miss Amelia? Can't you sleep?" With a gigantic effort I dragged myself from bed and a.s.sumed my dressing gown. Evelyn was still sleeping sweetly. I tiptoed to the doorway.

"I can't sleep," I said softly. "Perhaps I am too tired. And you, Lucas? Did you have some reason for looking in just now?"

"I don't know.... I am strangely uneasy tonight. I heard you stirring, and was afraid...."

"I am uneasy too."

I joined him on the ledge. The night was perfect. The world dreamed peacefully under the moon. The air felt cool; I s.h.i.+vered, and drew my dressing gown close around my throat.

"You ought to sleep," Lucas said. "Perhaps another gla.s.s of wine is what you need."

"Lucas, you are not drinking more wine? Surely that is unwise."

"I am not made of iron," Lucas said; his voice was so savage I recoiled. "I will do what must be done; but allow me something with which to fortify myself. Come; I insist that you join me."

Fool that I was! I felt sorry for him. His genuine emotion seemed more pathetic to me than the theatrics he had shown earlier. He was pouring the wine when Emerson came out of his chamber and advanced upon us.