Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (145 page)

Enid turned her back on him and pulled Ramses close to her. ‘Come with Enid, poor lad; she will tidy you and protect you from this bully.’

Ramses’ face was pressed against her impeccable shirtwaist – impeccable, I mean to say, until that moment – but I could see his cheek and one corner of his mouth. The latter feature was curved in an insufferable smirk. He allowed himself to be led away, with every appearance of enjoying the sort of embrace he would ordinarily have protested.

Displaying hands almost as filthy as those of Ramses, Donald also went to wash. If he hoped to plead his case with Enid, he was given no opportunity, for she came back almost at once, clasping Ramses’ hand. His face and hands at least were clean, and realizing that only total immersion would restore him to a semblance of decency, I allowed him to take his tea with us, providing he sat some distance from the table. Owing to the nutrients contained in it, Nile mud has a particularly pungent and pervasive smell.

Nor did Donald linger over his toilette. He had been wearing Arab dress over his shirt and trousers; the removal of the robe removed the worst of the mud and he had taken time to pass a brush over his waving locks. After he had joined us I invited him to tell us what had happened and to provide us with the name of the person who had attempted to assassinate Ramses.

‘As you must know, from your calm tone, Mrs Emerson, it was an accident,’ he replied. ‘Brought on in large part by Master Ramses himself. We had gone down to the canal and were talking with the women who were washing clothes – at least Ramses was. By the way, your son has an appalling familiarity with certain Arabic idioms … While we were there, we heard gunfire some little distance off. Before I could stop him, Ramses had mounted his donkey and was going hell-bent for leather – I beg your pardon – riding rapidly in the direction from which the shots had come. I caught up with him after a while and explained that it was ill-advised to blunder into a shooting blind. We had a little discussion. He persuaded me – fool that I am! – to go closer, in order to observe the shooting. We – er – we had made quite a lot of noise, and I did not doubt the hunters knew we were there, but in order to be perfectly safe I called out again. A great flock of pigeons was wheeling and preparing to settle; it was clear that the rifles would be aimed in that direction, and since we were approaching from the west, I thought I had taken every possible precaution–’

‘It sounds as if you had,’ I observed, pouring him another cup of tea. ‘I presume Ramses ran out into the line of fire.’

Donald nodded. ‘Shouting at the top of his lungs and waving his hat. Naturally the birds took alarm and flew off–’

‘Which was precisely my intention,’ exclaimed Ramses. ‘You know my sentiments about blood sports, Mama; killing for food or in self-defence is one thing, but the slaughter of helpless fauna for the sake of simply counting the number of the slain is a process I cannot–’

‘Your sentiments on that subject are known to me, Ramses,’ said Emerson. ‘But, dear boy–’

‘Don’t scold him,’ Enid begged. ‘The gallant little fellow was not thinking of his own safety. His action was reckless but noble! I might have done the same thing had I been there, for I share his abhorrence of men who find a perverse pleasure in killing.’

This statement was obviously directed at Donald who flushed painfully. He got no chance to defend himself, for Enid continued to praise and admire Ramses whose smug expression was really enough to try the patience of a saint. In a typical Ramesesian effort to show appreciation for her spirited defence, he offered to give her a lesson in hieroglyphic – the highest compliment in his power – and they went into the house, hand in hand.

Donald slammed his cup into his saucer with such force that it cracked. ‘I resign my position, Mrs Emerson. I have faced armed foes and fierce savages, but Ramses has defeated me.’

‘Ramses? You mean Enid, don’t you? Have more bread and butter, Donald.’

‘I don’t want any cursed … Forgive me, Mrs E. I only want to be left alone.’

‘Alone with your pipe and your opium?’ said Emerson. ‘Give it up, my boy. You won’t elude Mrs Emerson; she has made up her mind to reform you, and reform you she will, whether you like it or not. Excuse me; I believe I will go in and work on my notes.’

‘Emerson is so tactful,’ I said, as my husband’s stalwart form vanished into the house. ‘He knows I wanted a confidential chat with you, Ronald – I beg your pardon, Donald. No, don’t go, for if you do, I will have Abdullah bring you back and sit on you until I am finished. Goodness, the stubbornness of the male sex! Enid has told me everything, Donald.’

The young man sank back into his chair, ‘Everything?’

‘Well, almost everything. She did not say in so many words that she loves you, but it was not difficult for me to see it. I am constantly astonished–’

Donald leaped to his feet. ‘Loves me?’

‘–at the inability of men to see what is right under their noses. And you love her–’

‘Love her? Love her!’

‘You sound like a parrot. Do sit down and stop shouting, or you will have everyone coming round to see what is wrong.’

Slowly Donald subsided into his chair, like a man whose limbs will no longer support him. His eyes, wide as saucers, and blue as the best Egyptian turquoise, were fixed on my face.

I continued. ‘Why else would she pursue you and attempt to persuade you to defend yourself? Why would she submit to the disgusting attentions of a man like Kalenischeff, if not to aid you? Why is she so furious with you? Mark my words, a woman does not go to such lengths for the sake of old friendship. She loves you! But she despises you too, and with reason. You do your brother no favour to take his punishment on yourself, and if you are foolish enough to submit to shame and disgrace for the sake of some absurd notion of gallantry, you have no right to make those who love you suffer. Proclaim your innocence and your brother’s guilt; take the position that is rightly yours, and claim your bride!’

‘I can’t believe you,’ Donald muttered. ‘She despises me. She–’

‘Well, of course she does. That has nothing to do with her loving you. Now listen to me, Donald. You cannot desert us. I am unable to explain this to Emerson, for he is becoming so unreasonable about the Master Criminal that the mere mention of the name starts him shouting, but you, I dare hope, will understand. Enid is in grave danger, not from the police, but from that mysterious genius of crime. He meant her to be charged and convicted for the murder of Kalenischeff. Why else would he have selected her room as the scene of slaughter?’

‘Possibly,’ Donald suggested, ‘because Kalenischeff was on his guard at all other times and was only vulnerable to attack when he believed he had been summoned to a romantic rendezvous.’

‘My question was rhetorical,’ I said sharply. ‘Take my word for it; Enid is not safe. Who knows, she may have seen or heard something on that terrible night that would endanger Sethos, could she but recall it. Let her abuse you and insult you, but do not abandon her when she needs you. And, while I am on the subject of insults and abuses, let me inform you that your abject acceptance of Enid’s contumely is not going to improve her opinion of you. I would be happy to give you one or two suggestions–’

Again Donald started up, so impetuously that his chair toppled over. ‘I beg you, Mrs Emerson – spare me. Your arguments have won me over; I will never desert Miss Debenham so long as she is in need of protection. But I cannot – I cannot endure – oh, God!’

Whereupon he rushed into the house.

A
BDULLAH
had neglected to close the gates. I sat in rare and pleasurable solitude, listening to the distant voices of Ramses and Enid discussing ancient Egyptian (or rather, the voice of Ramses lecturing Enid about ancient Egyptian) and enjoying the splendour of the sunset. The grand palette of the heavens was streaked with colours no earthly painter could achieve, savage-glowing bronze and gleaming crimson, indigo and rose and soft blue-grey. I knew the lurid beauty of the sky was due to the amount of sand in the atmosphere, and hoped we were not in for a storm.

One of the paths from the village passed in front of the gates, and my vigil was further enlivened by the forms of fellahin returning home from the fields, donkeys loaded with wood for the cookfires, women muffled in black and carrying heavy water jars on their heads. The procession of eternal Egypt, I thought to myself – for poetic fancies come to me at such times.

An alien shape broke into the slow-moving parade, the very speed of its approach an intrusion. The shape was that of a mounted man, who rode straight through the open gates. Seeing me, he dismounted, sweeping off his hat.

‘Mrs Emerson, I am Ronald Fraser. We met the other day–’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘Are you by chance the person who put a hole in my son’s hat this afternoon?’

‘No, indeed! At least I hope not.’ His smile made him look so much like his brother, I glanced involuntarily over my shoulder. Donald was nowhere in sight, but Emerson was. His broad shoulders filled the open doorway and a scowl darkened his face.

‘You hope not,’ he repeated ironically. ‘I hope not too, young man; for if you were the one who committed that little error, you would have to answer to
me
.’

‘It is in order to explain and apologize for the incident that I do myself the honour to call on you and your charming lady,’ Ronald said smoothly. ‘May I–’

‘You may,’ I said, indicating the chair Donald had overturned in his hasty departure. ‘I would offer you a cup of tea, but I am afraid it is cold.’

Ronald righted the chair and deposited himself in it. He was a graceful creature, more elegant and less manly than his brother. Knowing them as I now did, I could never have mistaken one for the other. The younger man’s countenance betrayed the weakness of his character; his lips were thin, his chin was irresolute, his brow narrow and receding. Even his eyes, of the same sea-blue, were paler in colour. They met mine with a clear candour I could not help but find highly suspicious.

In the most charming manner he disclaimed any intention of troubling me, even to the extent of a cup of tea. ‘I came,’ he went on, ‘only to make certain that no harm had been done the lad. He ran out in front of our guns, Professor and Mrs Emerson – I assure you he did. I honestly don’t know whose bullet it was that struck the hat out of his hand. He had retrieved it and retreated before we could go after him. Though we searched for some time, we found no sign of him, or of anyone else – though I thought I caught a glimpse of another person, an Arab, by his clothing… .’

He ended on a questioning note, but I was not tempted to inform him that the other person present had been his brother. Nor was Emerson; in fact, my husband’s response was direct to the point of rudeness. There were references, as I recall, to young idiots who could find nothing better to do with their time than blast away at birds who could not shoot back, and to his (Emerson’s) sincere hope that the shooters would end up riddling themselves and each other.

Mr Ronald’s fixed smile remained in place. ‘I don’t blame you, Professor; in your place I would say much the same.’

‘I doubt that,’ Emerson replied haughtily. ‘If you think your powers of invective can equal mine, you are sadly mistaken.’

‘I will make any amends in my power,’ the young man insisted. ‘A gift to the little chap – a profound apology–’

I had been wondering why Ramses had not made an appearance. It was most unlike him to refrain from interrupting. Yet even this conciliatory and tempting offer did not bring him out of the house. The most profound silence filled that edifice; even the murmur of Ramses’ lecture had ceased.

‘That is not necessary,’ I said. ‘But thank you for coming.’

I had no intention of allowing him to leave as yet, but it was not easy to introduce the topic I wanted to question him about. ‘Did you forge your brother’s signature?’ or ‘Do you believe Miss Debenham is a murderess?’ seemed a trifle abrupt, especially since I was not supposed to be acquainted with the persons in question. However, the young man saved me the trouble by an inquiry almost as direct as the ones I had rejected.

‘I had another reason for coming,’ he said gravely. ‘May I have a word, please, with Miss Debenham?’

I rallied at once without, I am sure, indicating how surprised I was by the question. ‘Miss Debenham? I don’t believe I know–’

‘I cannot believe she has succeeded in deceiving you, Mrs Emerson, no matter what name she has assumed. You are too astute to be gulled. Your kind heart and gentle sympathy are well known; everyone talks of it; it is impossible to spend more than a few days in Egypt without knowing your reputation – and, of course, that of your distinguished husband. You took her in, a helpless fugitive, and for that you will always have my gratitude. Do you suppose I would betray her– I, who hold her above all living creatures? Only let me see her, speak to her – assure myself she is unharmed – learn what I can do to serve her… .’

Unwillingly impressed by his eloquence, I listened without either confirming or denying his assumption. How long he would have gone on I cannot say, but his speech was halted by Enid herself. She had to push Emerson out of the way; he had been listening with an expression of incredulous disgust.