Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (62 page)

Emerson erupted onto the scene and the group hastily dispersed, except for Abdullah and Karl. The former fumed to Emerson, stroking his beard in obvious agitation. ‘Is this true, Emerson? That liar’ – with a contemptuous gesture at Feisal, who was pretending not to listen – ‘will say anything to get attention.’

Emerson responded with an accurate description of what had happened. The widening of Abdullah’s eyes and his increasingly rapid manipulation of his beard indicated that the bare facts were distressing enough.

‘But this is terrible,’ Karl said. ‘I must to the house go. Miss Mary is alone – ’

I tried to reassure him. The mention of Mr O’Connell as the prospective protector of the ladies did not soothe the young German at all, and he would have continued to expostulate if Emerson had not cut the discussion short.

‘Mrs Emerson will be in charge today,’ he announced. ‘I will return as soon as I can; in the meantime you will, of course, obey her as you would me.’ And, with a forlorn glance into the depths of the tomb – the sort of a look a lover might have cast on his beloved as he took leave of her before a battle – he strode away, followed, I was distressed to observe, by a little tail of curiosity seekers and journalists, all shouting questions. My beleaguered husband finally snatched the bridle of a donkey from a surprised Egyptian, leaped onto the beast, and urged it into a trot. The cavalcade disappeared in a cloud of dust, with the infuriated owner of the beast leading the pursuit.

I looked in vain for the fiery-red head of Mr O’Connell. I was surprised at his absence, for I felt sure that with his sources of information he had already heard of the latest catastrophe and would be eager to rush to Mary’s side. The mystery was explained shortly thereafter when a ragged child handed me a note. I gave the messenger some baksheesh and opened the note.

‘I hope you have been able to convince the Professor,’ it began abruptly. ‘If you haven’t, he will have to evict me personally and by force. I have gone to the house to be with Mary.’

Much as I deplored the young man’s impetuosity, I could not but respect the depth of his devotion to the girl he loved. And it was certainly a relief to know that the able-bodied man we needed was on duty. With my mind at ease on this point – if on few others – I could turn my attention to the tomb.

The first order of business was to photograph the area we had uncovered the previous evening. I had caused Arthur’s camera to be fetched to the tomb, since I felt perfectly confident that with a little study I could operate it. With the help of Karl I set up the apparatus. Mr Vandergelt, who arrived at about that time, was also useful. We took several exposures. Then the men were set to removing the remains, which included a number of beads and bits of stone that had been overlooked. It was then necessary to remove the massive stone from the passageway. Its appearance outside caused a great buzzing and shoving among the sightseers. Two of them actually fell over the edge of the excavation into the stairwell and had to be removed, bruised and threatening legal action.

Now the way was clear for the removal of the remaining fill, but when I was about to direct the men to carry out this task, Abdullah pointed out that it was time for the noon rest. I was not averse to stopping; for I was becoming increasingly anxious about Emerson.

Do not suppose, reader, that because I have not expressed my fears they did not exist. To say that my husband was unpopular with the thieves’ guild of Gurneh is to express a laughable understatement. Certain other archaeologists tacitly cooperate with these gentry in order to have first chance at the illicit antiquities they dig up, but to Emerson an object ripped from its location lost much of its historical value, and it was often damaged by ignorant handling. Emerson insisted that if people would not buy illicit antiquities, the thieves would have no reason to dig. He was therefore anathema to the entrepreneurs of the trade on economic grounds, and personally – I think I have made it clear that tact is not his strong point. I was fully cognisant of the risk he ran in approaching the Gurnawis. They might decide not to pay blackmail but to remove the blackmailer.

It was therefore with profound relief that I beheld the familiar form striding vigorously toward me, brushing away tourists as one might swat at gnats. The journalists followed at a respectful distance. I observed that the man from the
Times
was limping, and hoped devoutly that Emerson had not been responsible for his injury.

‘Where is the donkey?’ I enquired.

‘How is the work going?’ Emerson asked simultaneously.

I had to answer his question first or he would never have answered mine, so I gave him a summary of the morning’s activities while he seated himself beside me and accepted a cup of tea. When his speech was temporarily impeded by the medium of a sandwich, I repeated my question.

Emerson stared blankly around him. ‘What donkey? Oh – that donkey. I suppose the owner retrieved it.’

‘What happened at Gurneh? Did you succeed in your mission?’

‘We ought to be able to remove the rest of the fill today,’ Emerson said musingly. ‘Curse it, I knew I had forgotten something – all that hullaballoo last night distracted me. Planks. We need more – ’

‘Emerson!’

‘There is no need to shout, Amelia. I am sitting next to you, in case you failed to observe that.’

‘What happened?’

‘What happened where? Oh,’ Emerson said, as I reached for my parasol. ‘You mean at Gurneh. Why, just what I had planned, of course. Ali Hassan Abd er Rasul – he is a cousin of Mohammed – was quite cooperative. He and his friends have already begun searching for Armadale.’

‘As simple as that? Come now, Emerson, don’t assume that air of lofty competence, you know how it enrages me. I have been sick with worry.’

‘Then you weren’t thinking clearly,’ Emerson retorted, holding out his cup to be refilled. ‘Ali Hassan and the rest have every incentive to do what I asked, quite aside from the – er – private matters we discussed to our mutual satisfaction. I offered a sizeable reward for Armadale. Also, this search gives them a legitimate reason to do what they habitually do on the sly – prowl around the mountains looking for hidden tombs.’

‘Naturally I had thought of that.’

‘Naturally.’ Emerson smiled at me. He finished his tea, dropped the cup (he is almost as hard on crockery as he is on shirts) and rose to his feet. ‘Back to work. Where is everyone?’

‘Karl is sleeping. Now, Emerson,’ I added, as his brows drew together in a scowl, ‘you can hardly expect the young man to watch all night and work all day. Vandergelt returned to the house for luncheon. He wanted to make sure everyone was all right and get the latest news about Arthur.’

‘He wanted to lunch in comfort and bask in Lady Baskerville’s smiles,’ Emerson snapped. ‘The man is a dilettante. I suspect him of desiring to steal my tomb.’

‘You suspect everyone of that,’ I replied, picking up the pieces of the broken cup and packing away the remainder of the food.

‘Come along, Amelia, you have wasted enough time,’ Emerson said and, shouting for Abdullah, he bounded away.

I was about to resume my labours when I saw Vandergelt approaching. He had taken advantage of the opportunity to change his clothes and was wearing another immaculately tailored set of tweeds, of which he seemed to have an endless number. Leaning on my parasol, I watched him stride toward me, and wondered what his real age might be. In spite of his greying hair and lined, leathery face he walked like a young man, and the strength of his hands and arms was remarkable.

Seeing me, he raised his hat with his usual courtesy. ‘I am glad to report that all is well,’ he said.

‘You mean that Lady Baskerville has not yet murdered Madame Berengeria?’

The American looked at me quizzically and then smiled. ‘That British sense of humour! To tell you the truth, Mrs Amelia, when I got there the two ladies were squaring off like prizefighters. I had to play peacemaker, and I flatter myself I did it neatly. I suggested that Madame intercede with the gods of Egypt and beg them to spare young Arthur’s life. She jumped on that like a duck on a June bug. When I left she was squatting in the middle of the parlour crooning to herself and making mystical gestures. It was sure a horrible sight.’

‘There is no change in Arthur’s condition?’ I asked.

‘No. But he is holding his own. Say, Mrs Amelia, I have to ask you – did you really tell that young rapscallion O’Connell he could move in? He was buttering up to Lady Baskerville for all he was worth, and when I asked him why he was there, he told me you had given him permission.’

‘That will not please Lady Baskerville. I assure you, Mr Vandergelt, I had no intention of impinging on her prerogatives. Emerson and I felt that under the circumstances – ’

‘I get you. And I’ve got to admit I felt easier leaving the ladies there with him. He’s a scoundrel, but I think he would be a good man in a fight.’

‘Let us hope it does not come to that,’ I said.

‘Sure…. All right, ma’am, let’s get to work before the Professor comes out and accuses me of making eyes at you. I have to confess that I’m torn between my duty to Lady Baskerville and my interest in the tomb. I’d sure hate to miss the opening of the burial chamber.’

In this latter hope he was doomed to disappointment, for that day at least. By late afternoon the men had carried out the last of the limestone fill and the corridor lay clear before us. They then withdrew, to enable the dust to settle, and the four of us gathered at the edge of the well.

Emerson held a lantern whose dust-fogged light cast eerie shadows across the faces of the men – Vandergelt, considerably more dishevelled but no less excited than he had been four hours earlier; Karl, showing the signs of sleeplessness in his sunken eyes and weary face; Emerson, alert and energetic as ever. I was conscious of not looking my best.

‘It’s not so wide,’ Vandergelt remarked, appraising the width of the shaft. ‘I reckon I could jump it.’

‘I reckon you won’t,’ said Emerson, with a scornful look at the speaker. ‘You might clear the gap, but where would you land? The space is less than a foot wide and it is backed by a sheer wall.’

Advancing to the rim of the pit he lay flat, with his head and shoulders protruding over emptiness, and lowered the lantern as far as his arm would reach. The dim flame burned bluer. The air in those deep recesses was still bad, for there was no circulation, and in the depths of the shaft it was even worse. Though I had immediately followed Emerson’s example, I could make out very few details. Far below, at the utmost extremity of the light, was a pale amorphous glimmer – more of the omnipresent limestone chips, so many tons of which he had already removed from the tomb.

‘Yes,’ Emerson said, when I had voiced this observation. ‘The shaft is partially filled. The upper part was left open in the hope that a thief would tumble into it and break his bones.’ Rising, he directed the light toward the far wall. There, in ominous dignity, the jackal-headed guide of the dead raised his hands in greeting.

‘You see, Amelia, and gentlemen, the options open to us,’ Emerson said. ‘The continuance of the passageway is concealed. Either it lies behind that figure of Anubis, on the far wall, or it is on a lower level, opening out from the depths of the shaft. Obviously we must investigate both possibilities. We can do neither tonight. I must have a clear copy of the figure of Anubis before we bring in planks to bridge the gap and begin chopping away at the wall. To investigate the shaft we will need ropes, and it would be advisable for us to wait for the air to clear a little more. You saw how blue the lamp burned.’

‘Shucks,’ Vandergelt exclaimed. ‘Listen here, Professor, I’ll take my chances down there; you’ve got some ropes here, just you lower me down and I’ll – ’

‘Aber nein,
it is the younger and stronger who will descend,’ Karl exclaimed. ‘Herr Professor, let me – ’

‘The first person to descend will be myself,’ Emerson said, in a tone that silenced further comment. ‘And that will be tomorrow morning.’ He looked hard at me. I smiled, but did not speak. It was obvious that the lightest person in the group should be the one to make the descent, but there would be time to discuss that later.

After a moment Emerson cleared his throat. ‘Very well, we are agreed. I propose that we stop for the day and make an early start tomorrow. I am anxious to learn how matters are going at the house.’

‘And who will be on guard tonight?’ Vandergelt asked.

‘Peabody and I.’

‘Peabody? Who is – oh, I see. Now look here, Professor, you wouldn’t cheat on me, would you? No fair you and Mrs Amelia going ahead with the work tonight.’

‘May I remind you that I am the director of this expedition?’ Emerson said.

When he speaks in that tone it is seldom necessary for him to speak twice. Vandergelt, a man of strong personality, recognised a stronger, and fell silent.

However, he dogged our footsteps all the way back, and it was impossible for me to speak privately to my husband, as I had hoped to do. My heart had leaped with exultation at hearing him name me the partner of his watch, and the decision had confirmed my hunch that he meant to do more than watch. Whom else could he trust as he trusted me, his life and professional partner? His decision to stop work early made excellent sense; so long as there was light, of sun or moon, the tomb was safe. The ghouls of Gurneh, like other evil creatures of the night, worked only in darkness. When the moon set behind the hills the danger began; and by then, perhaps, we would have penetrated the secret of the pharaoh.

Although this thought roused me to the highest pitch of archaeological excitement, never believe I neglected my duties. I went first to the chamber where Arthur lay. The silent, black-garbed figure of the nun might not have moved since morning. Only the faint clack of the beads that slipped through her fingers showed she was a living woman and not a statue. She did not speak when I asked about the patient, only shook her head to indicate there had been no change.

Madame Berengeria was next on my agenda. I decided it would be more convenient for everyone if she were safely tucked away for the night before I left. I assumed she was still in the parlour communing with the gods, and as I walked in that direction I pondered how my aim might best be achieved. A wholly contemptible and unworthy idea occurred to me. Dare I confess it? I have vowed to be completely honest, so, at the risk of incurring the censure of my readers, let me admit that I contemplated making use of Madame’s weakness for drink to render her inebriated and unconscious. If those who would condemn me had faced the situation that confronted me, and had seen the dreadful woman in action, they would, I daresay, be more tolerant of this admittedly reprehensible plan.