Read Crocodile on the Sandbank Online
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: #Historical fiction, #Detective and mystery stories, #Mystery fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Suspense, #Crime & mystery, #Political, #Women detectives - Egypt, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictious character), #Crime & Thriller, #Mummies, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictitious character), #Egyptology, #Cairo (Egypt), #Mystery, #Detective, #Women detectives, #Emerson, #Radcliffe (Fictitious character), #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Archaeologists' spouses, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Egypt, #Fiction - Mystery
Crocodile on the Sandbank (22 page)
I had nothing to say. The scheme was a good one, but I would rather
have died than admit it aloud. The others were clearly
impressed. Evelyn's somber face had brightened.
"Then you really believe that the Mummy is only trying to frighten us?
That no one is in danger?"
"My dear girl, I am convinced of it. If it will make you feel safer, we
will damn the conventions and spend the night huddled together in a
single room. But I feel sure no such discomfort is necessary. Are
we
all agreed? Excellent. Then Peabody had better retire to her bed; she
is clearly in need of recuperative sleep; she has not made a sarcastic
remark for fully ten minutes."
as I seldom permit in that organ; but on this occasion the methods I
normally apply to resolve it were not effective. Something kept me from
ratiocination. Mental fatigue, as well as physical exhaustion, finally
sent me into heavy slumber, filled with bewildering fragments of
dreams. The common theme of them all seemed to be light—bright beams of
illumination that flashed on and then went out, leaving me in deeper
darkness than before. I groped in the dark, seeking I knew not what.
It was such a beam of light that finally woke me. When the curtain at
the mouth of the tomb was lifted, the rays of the setting sun struck
straight into the shadowy gloom. I lay motionless, struggling against
the bonds of sleep that still clung to me; my uneasy slumber had
twisted the bedclothes about my limbs and loosened my hair from its
net. Damp with perspiration, the thick coils weighted my heavy head.
Then I heard the voice. I did not recognize it at first; it was a harsh
whisper, tremulous with fear and warning.
"Don't move! For your life, remain motionless!"
The tones woke me like a dash of cold water. I opened my drowsy eyes.
The first object to meet my gaze was a coil of what
appeared to be thick brown rope, resting on the foot of my couch. As I
stared,
the coil moved. A flat head lifted from the mass; two narrow
orbs, sparkling with life, fixed themselves
on mine.
The whisper came again.
"Be still. Not a breath, not a movement -----"
I did not need that injunction. I could not have moved, even if waking
intelligence had not warned me
that the slightest movement might rouse
the serpent to strike. The small obsidian eyes held me. I had
read that
snakes paralyze their intended prey thus; and I knew how the trembling
rabbit must feel when
its murderer glides toward it.
With a desperate effort I wrenched my eyes from the hypnotic glare of
the snake. I rolled them toward the door. I dared move no farther.
Emerson's face was streaked with rivulets of perspiration. He did not
look at me. His eyes were fixed on the flat reptilian head, which was
now weaving slowly back and forth. His hand, half lifted, shook with
strain. It moved slowly, inch by inch. It touched his pocket and, with
the same agonizing deliberation, reached inside.
Before and after that time I have made efforts that were not easy to
make, but never have I done anything more difficult than remaining
motionless. Lively terror had replaced my paralysis; every nerve
in my
body shook with the desire for action. I wanted to scream aloud, to
fling myself from the deadly couch. Every ounce of my will was occupied
in fighting this instinct. The strain was too much. A fog descended
over
my staring eyes. I knew that in another moment I must move.
When it finally came, the act was too quick for my failing eyes to see
it. Emerson's arm flashed in a blur of motion. Simultaneously, or so it
seemed, the heavens fell. Blinding light, a crash of sound that rolled
like thunder.... Merciful oblivion overcame me. I was not unconscious
for long. When I awoke I could not remember, at first, what had
happened. My head rested against a hard,
warm surface that vibrated erratically. My ears still rang with the
echoes of that final thunderclap. I decided, drowsily, that the rapid
beating sound was that of my own blood rushing through my veins with
the rapidity of terror; for a normal heartbeat was never so fast. I
felt surprisingly comfortable— limp and boneless as a baby in its
mother's arms. Then something began to touch my face— lips, closed
eyes, cheeks— with a light pressure like the brash of fingers, only
warmer and softer. That odd, fleeting touch had the strangest effect on
me. I had been about to open my eyes. Instead, I closed them tighter. I
decided I must be dreaming. Similar sensations had occurred,
occasionally, in dreams; why should I dismiss such pleasurable
experiences for a reality which would not be so enjoyable? I remembered
everything now. The snake must have struck its fangs into me. I was
poisoned— delirious— dreaming.
I genuinely resented the sounds that finally broke the spell. Voices
crying out in alarm, running footsteps, streaks of light that irritated
my closed eyes— yes, the dream was over. I felt myself being lowered to
a flat surface, being shaken, and— crowning indignity— slapped smartly
across the cheek. I opened my eyes, and then narrowed them in a frown
as I recognized Emerson's face hovering over me like a nightmarish
mask. It was he who had slapped me, of course. Beyond, I saw Evelyn,
her face as white
as her dress. She pushed Emerson away, with a
strength and rudeness quite foreign to her nature, and flung herself
down on the cot beside me.
"Amelia! Oh, my dear, dear Amelia— we heard the shot and came
running— what has happened? Are
you wounded? are you dying?"
"Not wounded, not dying, merely enjoying a ladylike swoon," said
Emerson's familiar, detestable voice. "Allow me to congratulate you,
Peabody; it is the first time I have seen you behave as a lady is
supposed to do. I must make a note of it in my journal."
I tried to think of something sufficiently cutting to say in reply, but
was too unstrung to do so; I simply glared at him. He had stepped back
and was standing beside the cot, his hands in his pockets. A low cry
from Walter interrupted Evelyn's agitated questions. He rose from the
foot of the bed, holding the limp body of the serpent in his hand.
"Good God," he exclaimed, his voice shaking."It is a hooded
cobra—one.of the deadliest serpents in Egypt. Radcliffe— it was you who
fired the shot? Are you certain it did not strike before you killed it?"
I thought for a moment Evelyn was going to faint. She roused herself
and began to fumble around in the bedclothes, trying to examine my
lower limbs. I pullled them away. I felt perfectly well now; Emerson's
rudeness had the effect of rousing me.
"Don't fuss, Evelyn," I said irritably. "The snake did not touch me, it
is a slow-witted creature and took
so long making up its mind whether
to bite me that Emerson had ample time to shoot it. He took plenty
of
time, too, I must say; I could have dealt with ten snakes during the
interval he required to take out his pistol."
"You know better, Miss Amelia," Walter exclaimed. "It was necessary to
move with deliberation; a rapid movement might have startled the snake
into striking. To think that it was just here, at the foot of your bed!
It turns me quite cold to think of it. Thank God you had a weapon,
Radcliffe."
"My weapon, I suppose," said Lucas from the doorway. He came slowly
into the room. "What a fortunate chance that you were carrying it with
you."
"There was one bullet left," Emerson said. His lips curled in a
frightful grimace; abruptly he turned his back.
"It was an extraordinary shot," Lucas said, his eyes on the other man's
rigid shoulders. "A lucky shot,
I should say. You might have struck
Miss Amelia."
"It had to be attempted, whatever the risk," Walter exclaimed. The
implied criticism of his brother
brought a flush of anger to his face.
"Of course," cried Evelyn.
She was still pale with agitation, but she arose with her usual grace
and, going to Emerson, placed her hand timidly on his arm.
"God bless you, Mr. Emerson. Your quick wits and keen eye saved
Amelia's life. How can I ever thank you?"
Emerson's stiff, haughty pose relaxed. He turned and looked down at the
girl. Some of the color returned to her face under his steady regard.
Then he smiled faintly.
"I will let you know," he replied enigmatically.
"In the meantime, perhaps Master Walter might consider getting rid of
his souvenir," said Lucas.
"It cannot be a pleasant sight for the
ladies."
Walter started. He was still holding the snake's body at arms' length.
He crossed the room, brushing past Lucas, and went out the door.
"And," Lucas continued, "let us all leave this room, which reeks of
gunpowder and holds unpleasant associations. Come, Miss Amelia, let me
offer you my arm."
"Thank you," I replied. "I need no assistance. Perhaps a cup of tea ..."
Evelyn and I had tea. The gentlemen had something stronger. Lucas was
the only one who seemed normal; he kept speculating as to how the
serpent got into the tomb.
"No doubt it crawled within during the night," he said.
"I wonder why I didn't see it earlier," I said. "I must have disturbed
it when I flung myself down to sleep."
"Because it was not on the cot then," Lucas replied. "It was curled in
a corner, and crept onto your bed later. It was fortunate that Emerson
came in when he did; if you had awakened and moved about— "
"Enough of this," I interrupted. "The thing is over and done with. In
the meantune, the sun is setting.
We have yet to decide what we are
going to do tonight."
"I have decided." It was Evelyn who spoke. We all turned to look at her
as she rose slowly from her chair. Her face was as white and set as
that of a marble statue; but unconquerable
resolution shone in
her eyes.
"I accept Lord Ellesmere's proposal of marriage," she went on. "He and
I will leave here now— this moment. Tomorrow at dawn we will sail for
Cairo."
Utter silence followed. It was broken by Walter. He leaped to his feet
with an unintelligible cry; dark, dusky color stained his cheeks. Lucas
also rose. His slow, deliberate moments and the smile that spread
across his face had an insolent triumph that infuriated me.
"I am, of course, the happiest man in the world," he said coolly.
"Although I could have wished, my darling, that you had not chosen to
accept me quite so publicly. However, if that is what you prefer..."
Before any of us suspected what he meant to do, he had caught Evelyn's
hands and pulled her roughly
to him. I honestly believe the rascal
would have embraced her, there before us all, if Walter had not
intervened. With another wordless cry, he struck his rival's hands
away. For a moment the two young men stood facing one another in open
enmity. Walter's breast rose and fell with his agitated breathing;
the
sling supporting his wounded arm rose and fell with it.
Lucas's eyes narrowed. I saw, as never before, the hot Latin blood of
his sire.
"So," he said softly. "You dare----- You will answer for this, Emerson,
I promise you."
Evelyn stepped between them.
"Lucas— Walter— for shame! I have said what I must do. I will do it.
Nothing can change my mind."
"Evelyn!" Walter turned to her, ignoring the other man. "You cannot do
this! You don't love him— you are sacrificing yourself because of some
absurd notion that you are the cause of our troubles— "
"She could not possibly be so stupid." Emerson's calm voice broke in.
He had not moved during the
little scene; sitting at ease, his legs
stretched out, he was smoking his pipe and
watching like a spectator
at a play.
"Sit down, all of you," he went on, his voice taking on a sharp tone
that forced obedience. "Now let us talk like reasonable human beings.
If Miss Evelyn decides to become Lady Ellesmere, that is her right;
but
I cannot allow her to take that step under a misapprehension."
He turned to Evelyn, who had dropped into a chair, where she sat with
one trembling hand over her eyes.
"Young woman, do you really believe that you are the jinx, the Jonah,
who brings evil upon us? That is unbecoming a sensible woman."
"Amelia, today," said Evelyn in a faint voice. "It was the final
warning. Danger to all those I love— "
"Nonsense!" The word burst from Emerson's lips. "Simple nonsense, my
girl. Have you forgotten what we decided, at the beginning of this
obscene charade? The only possible motive for it all is the desire of
some unknown to force us away from this site. How will your departure
accomplish this, if Walter and
I remain? While you sail safely down the
river toward Cairo, in the arms of your betrothed— "
There was a wordless protest from Walter at this. Emerson gave him a
sardonic look before proceeding, in a tone that seemed designed to
provoke the young fellow even more.
"As you sail along in soft dalliance under the moon, we may be
beleaguered here. No; if your motive
truly is to benefit us, your
flight cannot accomplish that. If, on the other hand, you yearn to be
alone
with his lordship— "
It was Lucas's turn to protest.
"Emerson, how dare you take that tone? You insult a lady— "
"Quite the contrary," said Emerson, maddeningly cool. "I pay the lady
the compliment of assuming that she has a brain and is capable of using
it. Well, Evelyn?"
Evelyn sat motionless, her hand still shading her eyes.
I don't know what had kept me silent so long. Emerson's motive eluded
me; that he had some ulterior purpose, however, I did not doubt. I
decided it was time to add my opinion.
"Emerson states the facts with his usual boorishness, yet he is
basically correct. We are still in the dark
as to the motive for this
charade, as he rightly terms it. Precipitate action may be fatal. You
may ignorantly do precisely what our unknown adversary wants you to do."
Lucas turned to look at me, and I knew that if I had not been a woman
he would have threatened me
as he had Walter. I cared not at all for
his opinion. Anxiously I watched Evelyn.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I must be alone— let me
think. Don't follow me, please."
Slowly, her face averted, she passed along the ledge and began to
descend.
Lucas started to follow.
"Your lordship!" Emerson's voice cracked like a whip.
"Don't interfere with me, Emerson," Lucas said tightly. "You are not my
master."'
"Interfere?" Emerson's eyes widened in honest indignation. "I never
interfere. You are, of course, too much of a gentlemen to lay hands on
the young lady again; I need not caution you as to that. I was merely
about to remind you not to wander out of sight."
"Very well," Lucas said shortly.
Evelyn had reached the bottom of the path and was walking slowly across
the sand, away from camp. The poor child looked infinitely weary and
sad as she proceeded with dragging steps and bowed head. The setting
sun struck off her golden head like a flame.
have died than admit it aloud. The others were clearly
impressed. Evelyn's somber face had brightened.
"Then you really believe that the Mummy is only trying to frighten us?
That no one is in danger?"
"My dear girl, I am convinced of it. If it will make you feel safer, we
will damn the conventions and spend the night huddled together in a
single room. But I feel sure no such discomfort is necessary. Are
we
all agreed? Excellent. Then Peabody had better retire to her bed; she
is clearly in need of recuperative sleep; she has not made a sarcastic
remark for fully ten minutes."
* * *
I thought I would not sleep. My mind was in a state of confusion suchas I seldom permit in that organ; but on this occasion the methods I
normally apply to resolve it were not effective. Something kept me from
ratiocination. Mental fatigue, as well as physical exhaustion, finally
sent me into heavy slumber, filled with bewildering fragments of
dreams. The common theme of them all seemed to be light—bright beams of
illumination that flashed on and then went out, leaving me in deeper
darkness than before. I groped in the dark, seeking I knew not what.
It was such a beam of light that finally woke me. When the curtain at
the mouth of the tomb was lifted, the rays of the setting sun struck
straight into the shadowy gloom. I lay motionless, struggling against
the bonds of sleep that still clung to me; my uneasy slumber had
twisted the bedclothes about my limbs and loosened my hair from its
net. Damp with perspiration, the thick coils weighted my heavy head.
Then I heard the voice. I did not recognize it at first; it was a harsh
whisper, tremulous with fear and warning.
"Don't move! For your life, remain motionless!"
The tones woke me like a dash of cold water. I opened my drowsy eyes.
The first object to meet my gaze was a coil of what
appeared to be thick brown rope, resting on the foot of my couch. As I
stared,
the coil moved. A flat head lifted from the mass; two narrow
orbs, sparkling with life, fixed themselves
on mine.
The whisper came again.
"Be still. Not a breath, not a movement -----"
I did not need that injunction. I could not have moved, even if waking
intelligence had not warned me
that the slightest movement might rouse
the serpent to strike. The small obsidian eyes held me. I had
read that
snakes paralyze their intended prey thus; and I knew how the trembling
rabbit must feel when
its murderer glides toward it.
With a desperate effort I wrenched my eyes from the hypnotic glare of
the snake. I rolled them toward the door. I dared move no farther.
Emerson's face was streaked with rivulets of perspiration. He did not
look at me. His eyes were fixed on the flat reptilian head, which was
now weaving slowly back and forth. His hand, half lifted, shook with
strain. It moved slowly, inch by inch. It touched his pocket and, with
the same agonizing deliberation, reached inside.
Before and after that time I have made efforts that were not easy to
make, but never have I done anything more difficult than remaining
motionless. Lively terror had replaced my paralysis; every nerve
in my
body shook with the desire for action. I wanted to scream aloud, to
fling myself from the deadly couch. Every ounce of my will was occupied
in fighting this instinct. The strain was too much. A fog descended
over
my staring eyes. I knew that in another moment I must move.
When it finally came, the act was too quick for my failing eyes to see
it. Emerson's arm flashed in a blur of motion. Simultaneously, or so it
seemed, the heavens fell. Blinding light, a crash of sound that rolled
like thunder.... Merciful oblivion overcame me. I was not unconscious
for long. When I awoke I could not remember, at first, what had
happened. My head rested against a hard,
warm surface that vibrated erratically. My ears still rang with the
echoes of that final thunderclap. I decided, drowsily, that the rapid
beating sound was that of my own blood rushing through my veins with
the rapidity of terror; for a normal heartbeat was never so fast. I
felt surprisingly comfortable— limp and boneless as a baby in its
mother's arms. Then something began to touch my face— lips, closed
eyes, cheeks— with a light pressure like the brash of fingers, only
warmer and softer. That odd, fleeting touch had the strangest effect on
me. I had been about to open my eyes. Instead, I closed them tighter. I
decided I must be dreaming. Similar sensations had occurred,
occasionally, in dreams; why should I dismiss such pleasurable
experiences for a reality which would not be so enjoyable? I remembered
everything now. The snake must have struck its fangs into me. I was
poisoned— delirious— dreaming.
I genuinely resented the sounds that finally broke the spell. Voices
crying out in alarm, running footsteps, streaks of light that irritated
my closed eyes— yes, the dream was over. I felt myself being lowered to
a flat surface, being shaken, and— crowning indignity— slapped smartly
across the cheek. I opened my eyes, and then narrowed them in a frown
as I recognized Emerson's face hovering over me like a nightmarish
mask. It was he who had slapped me, of course. Beyond, I saw Evelyn,
her face as white
as her dress. She pushed Emerson away, with a
strength and rudeness quite foreign to her nature, and flung herself
down on the cot beside me.
"Amelia! Oh, my dear, dear Amelia— we heard the shot and came
running— what has happened? Are
you wounded? are you dying?"
"Not wounded, not dying, merely enjoying a ladylike swoon," said
Emerson's familiar, detestable voice. "Allow me to congratulate you,
Peabody; it is the first time I have seen you behave as a lady is
supposed to do. I must make a note of it in my journal."
I tried to think of something sufficiently cutting to say in reply, but
was too unstrung to do so; I simply glared at him. He had stepped back
and was standing beside the cot, his hands in his pockets. A low cry
from Walter interrupted Evelyn's agitated questions. He rose from the
foot of the bed, holding the limp body of the serpent in his hand.
"Good God," he exclaimed, his voice shaking."It is a hooded
cobra—one.of the deadliest serpents in Egypt. Radcliffe— it was you who
fired the shot? Are you certain it did not strike before you killed it?"
I thought for a moment Evelyn was going to faint. She roused herself
and began to fumble around in the bedclothes, trying to examine my
lower limbs. I pullled them away. I felt perfectly well now; Emerson's
rudeness had the effect of rousing me.
"Don't fuss, Evelyn," I said irritably. "The snake did not touch me, it
is a slow-witted creature and took
so long making up its mind whether
to bite me that Emerson had ample time to shoot it. He took plenty
of
time, too, I must say; I could have dealt with ten snakes during the
interval he required to take out his pistol."
"You know better, Miss Amelia," Walter exclaimed. "It was necessary to
move with deliberation; a rapid movement might have startled the snake
into striking. To think that it was just here, at the foot of your bed!
It turns me quite cold to think of it. Thank God you had a weapon,
Radcliffe."
"My weapon, I suppose," said Lucas from the doorway. He came slowly
into the room. "What a fortunate chance that you were carrying it with
you."
"There was one bullet left," Emerson said. His lips curled in a
frightful grimace; abruptly he turned his back.
"It was an extraordinary shot," Lucas said, his eyes on the other man's
rigid shoulders. "A lucky shot,
I should say. You might have struck
Miss Amelia."
"It had to be attempted, whatever the risk," Walter exclaimed. The
implied criticism of his brother
brought a flush of anger to his face.
"Of course," cried Evelyn.
She was still pale with agitation, but she arose with her usual grace
and, going to Emerson, placed her hand timidly on his arm.
"God bless you, Mr. Emerson. Your quick wits and keen eye saved
Amelia's life. How can I ever thank you?"
Emerson's stiff, haughty pose relaxed. He turned and looked down at the
girl. Some of the color returned to her face under his steady regard.
Then he smiled faintly.
"I will let you know," he replied enigmatically.
"In the meantime, perhaps Master Walter might consider getting rid of
his souvenir," said Lucas.
"It cannot be a pleasant sight for the
ladies."
Walter started. He was still holding the snake's body at arms' length.
He crossed the room, brushing past Lucas, and went out the door.
"And," Lucas continued, "let us all leave this room, which reeks of
gunpowder and holds unpleasant associations. Come, Miss Amelia, let me
offer you my arm."
"Thank you," I replied. "I need no assistance. Perhaps a cup of tea ..."
Evelyn and I had tea. The gentlemen had something stronger. Lucas was
the only one who seemed normal; he kept speculating as to how the
serpent got into the tomb.
"No doubt it crawled within during the night," he said.
"I wonder why I didn't see it earlier," I said. "I must have disturbed
it when I flung myself down to sleep."
"Because it was not on the cot then," Lucas replied. "It was curled in
a corner, and crept onto your bed later. It was fortunate that Emerson
came in when he did; if you had awakened and moved about— "
"Enough of this," I interrupted. "The thing is over and done with. In
the meantune, the sun is setting.
We have yet to decide what we are
going to do tonight."
"I have decided." It was Evelyn who spoke. We all turned to look at her
as she rose slowly from her chair. Her face was as white and set as
that of a marble statue; but unconquerable
resolution shone in
her eyes.
"I accept Lord Ellesmere's proposal of marriage," she went on. "He and
I will leave here now— this moment. Tomorrow at dawn we will sail for
Cairo."
Utter silence followed. It was broken by Walter. He leaped to his feet
with an unintelligible cry; dark, dusky color stained his cheeks. Lucas
also rose. His slow, deliberate moments and the smile that spread
across his face had an insolent triumph that infuriated me.
"I am, of course, the happiest man in the world," he said coolly.
"Although I could have wished, my darling, that you had not chosen to
accept me quite so publicly. However, if that is what you prefer..."
Before any of us suspected what he meant to do, he had caught Evelyn's
hands and pulled her roughly
to him. I honestly believe the rascal
would have embraced her, there before us all, if Walter had not
intervened. With another wordless cry, he struck his rival's hands
away. For a moment the two young men stood facing one another in open
enmity. Walter's breast rose and fell with his agitated breathing;
the
sling supporting his wounded arm rose and fell with it.
Lucas's eyes narrowed. I saw, as never before, the hot Latin blood of
his sire.
"So," he said softly. "You dare----- You will answer for this, Emerson,
I promise you."
Evelyn stepped between them.
"Lucas— Walter— for shame! I have said what I must do. I will do it.
Nothing can change my mind."
"Evelyn!" Walter turned to her, ignoring the other man. "You cannot do
this! You don't love him— you are sacrificing yourself because of some
absurd notion that you are the cause of our troubles— "
"She could not possibly be so stupid." Emerson's calm voice broke in.
He had not moved during the
little scene; sitting at ease, his legs
stretched out, he was smoking his pipe and
watching like a spectator
at a play.
"Sit down, all of you," he went on, his voice taking on a sharp tone
that forced obedience. "Now let us talk like reasonable human beings.
If Miss Evelyn decides to become Lady Ellesmere, that is her right;
but
I cannot allow her to take that step under a misapprehension."
He turned to Evelyn, who had dropped into a chair, where she sat with
one trembling hand over her eyes.
"Young woman, do you really believe that you are the jinx, the Jonah,
who brings evil upon us? That is unbecoming a sensible woman."
"Amelia, today," said Evelyn in a faint voice. "It was the final
warning. Danger to all those I love— "
"Nonsense!" The word burst from Emerson's lips. "Simple nonsense, my
girl. Have you forgotten what we decided, at the beginning of this
obscene charade? The only possible motive for it all is the desire of
some unknown to force us away from this site. How will your departure
accomplish this, if Walter and
I remain? While you sail safely down the
river toward Cairo, in the arms of your betrothed— "
There was a wordless protest from Walter at this. Emerson gave him a
sardonic look before proceeding, in a tone that seemed designed to
provoke the young fellow even more.
"As you sail along in soft dalliance under the moon, we may be
beleaguered here. No; if your motive
truly is to benefit us, your
flight cannot accomplish that. If, on the other hand, you yearn to be
alone
with his lordship— "
It was Lucas's turn to protest.
"Emerson, how dare you take that tone? You insult a lady— "
"Quite the contrary," said Emerson, maddeningly cool. "I pay the lady
the compliment of assuming that she has a brain and is capable of using
it. Well, Evelyn?"
Evelyn sat motionless, her hand still shading her eyes.
I don't know what had kept me silent so long. Emerson's motive eluded
me; that he had some ulterior purpose, however, I did not doubt. I
decided it was time to add my opinion.
"Emerson states the facts with his usual boorishness, yet he is
basically correct. We are still in the dark
as to the motive for this
charade, as he rightly terms it. Precipitate action may be fatal. You
may ignorantly do precisely what our unknown adversary wants you to do."
Lucas turned to look at me, and I knew that if I had not been a woman
he would have threatened me
as he had Walter. I cared not at all for
his opinion. Anxiously I watched Evelyn.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I must be alone— let me
think. Don't follow me, please."
Slowly, her face averted, she passed along the ledge and began to
descend.
Lucas started to follow.
"Your lordship!" Emerson's voice cracked like a whip.
"Don't interfere with me, Emerson," Lucas said tightly. "You are not my
master."'
"Interfere?" Emerson's eyes widened in honest indignation. "I never
interfere. You are, of course, too much of a gentlemen to lay hands on
the young lady again; I need not caution you as to that. I was merely
about to remind you not to wander out of sight."
"Very well," Lucas said shortly.
Evelyn had reached the bottom of the path and was walking slowly across
the sand, away from camp. The poor child looked infinitely weary and
sad as she proceeded with dragging steps and bowed head. The setting
sun struck off her golden head like a flame.
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