Crocodile on the Sandbank (6 page)
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
"Let me carry you," Walter begged. "You are no burden; you cannot walk—
"
He put out his arms. She shrank back, as if he had offered to strike
her.
"No, no," she gasped. "Amelia will help me. I can walk, indeed I can.
Pray do not touch me."
Poor Walter was as white as Evelyn. But there was nothing to be done
but accede to her wishes. She walked, falteringly, but
without any assistance except mine, to the stairs. As we started up, I
had only time to assure Walter that I would let him know next morning
how Evelyn was, if he cared to come by.
My maid was waiting when we reached our rooms. Evelyn rejected her
attentions, which were given grudgingly enough; she seemed to shrink
from any company but mine, but still refused to tell me what was wrong.
At her request, I dismissed Travers, telling her to go to bed.
"I believe I will send Travers home," I said, seeking to strike a
casual note, since Evelyn would not talk
of the matter uppermost in
both our minds. "She hates everything— the country, the Egyptians, the
boat— "
"And me," said Evelyn, with a faint smile.
"She doesn't think highly of me, either," I said, pleased to see Evelyn
regaining her spirits. "We can manage without her quite nicely. I shall
make arrangements tomorrow. Evelyn, won't you tell me now— "
"Later," Evelyn said. "I will explain later, Amelia, when I have....
Won't you return to the saloon? You were having such a nice talk with
Mr. Emerson. I am sure he is still there. You might reassure him and
his.... You might reassure them, and make my apologies. I am well; I
only need rest. I will go straight to bed. I really am quite well."
This speech, delivered in a rapid monotone, was quite unlike the girl I
had come to know. I looked at her searchingly; she refused to meet my
eyes. I started to speak, fully prepared to break down a reticence
which now alarmed me; then came a loud knock at the door of the sitting
room.
Evelyn started convulsively. A renewed pallor spread over her face. I
stared at her, too bewildered to speak. Who could this visitor be, who
knocked so peremptorily? And at such an hour! It was not too late for
evening social activities, but it was certainly too late for anyone to
be coming to our rooms. I could not believe that Walter's anxiety would
drive him to such a step. Moreover, it was clear from Evelyn's
demeanor that she suspected who the visitor might be, and that her
suspicion caused her deep dread.
Her eyes met mine. Her shoulders straightened, and she set her lips in
a firm line before she opened them to speak. "Open the door, Amelia, if
you will be so good. I am being a miserable coward. I must face this."
I suppose her speech conveyed a clue to my mind. I remember I felt no
surprise when I opened the door and saw the man who stood there. I had
never seen him before, but his swarthy complexion, his sleek black
hair, his bold good looks confirmed the suspicion Evelyn's manner had
aroused.
"Ah," I said. "Signor Alberto, I presume."
his manner, verged on insolence; and as his eyes moved from my face
toward the inner doorway where Evelyn stood, pale
and still as a
statue, it was all I could do not to slap him.
"You invite me in?" he asked, looking at me. "I think you prefer I
would not speak of matters close to
our hearts except in the privacy."
I stepped back; silently I motioned him in; gently I closed the door
behind him. I wanted to slam it. Alberto rushed toward Evelyn.
"Ah, my lost darling, my heart's beloved! How can you desert me? How
can you leave me with agony
for your fate?"
Evelyn raised her hand. Alberto stopped, a few feet away from her. I
really believe the rascal would have taken her into his arms if she had
not moved. Now he cocked his head on one side and said, in tones of
deep reproach, "You push me! You crush me! Ah, I understand. You have
found a rich protectress. She gave you gifts and you abandon the poor
lover who give only love."
My parasol was standing in the comer. I went and got it. Evelyn was
silent throughout; I think she was too thunderstruck at the man's
insolence to speak. I approached Alberto and jabbed
him in the waistcoat with my parasol. He jumped back.
"That will do," I said briskly. "You abandoned this lady; she did not
abandon you, although she would have been wise to do so. How dare you
come here after writing that abominable message to her, after taking
all her possessions— "
"Message?" Alberto rolled his eyes. "I leave no message. Going out, to
seek employment, so I buy food for my beloved, I was strike by a horse
while I cross the street. Weeks I lie in the terrible hospital, in
delirious, crying out for my Evelyn. When I recover, I stagger to the
room which was my paradise. But she is gone! My angel has flown away. I
leave no message! If there is message my enemy must leave it.
I have
many enemy. Many who hate me, who try to steal my happiness, who envy
me my angel."
He looked meaningfully at me.
I have rarely seen such an unconvincing dramatic performance. Yet I was
not sure it might not convince Evelyn; love has a most unfortunate
effect on the brain, and I feared some lingering fondness for the
rascal might still move her.
I need not have feared. Evelyn's color had returned; indeed, her cheeks
were flushed becomingly with
an emotion that I recognized to be anger.
"How dare you?" she said in a low voice. "Have you not done me enough
harm? Oh, you are right to reproach me; I deserve your contempt. Not
for having left you, but for ever coming away with you in the first
place. But how dare you come here and insinuate such things about this
lady? You are not worthy to occupy the same room with her. Begone, and
never trouble my sight again!"
Alberto staggered back a few paces. He was counterfeiting shock and
anguish, but the ferrule of the umbrella, which I had against his
stomach, might have assisted his retreat.
"You cannot speak with true meaning. You are sick. No — you do not
understand. I come to marry you.
I offer you my hand and name. There is no other way for you. No other
man marry you
now, not when he know--"
He was an agile fellow; he jumped nimbly back as I tried to bring the
parasol down on his head, and
when I raised it for a second attempt,
Evelyn caught at my arm.
"Pray don't break a good parasol," she said, with a curling lip. "He is
not worth it."
"But he is trying to blackmail you," I said, panting with rage. "He is
threatening you with exposure unless you agree— "
"He may publish my infamy to the world," Evelyn said coldly. "Believe
me, Amelia, he has no more power over me. If any lingering trace of
fondness had remained, this would have ended it."
Smoothing down his hair, which had been disarranged by his rapid
movement, Alberto stared at us in affected horror.
"Blackmail? Threat?
Dio mio
,
how you do not understand me? I would not— "
"You had better not," I interrupted. "The first sign of trouble from
you, you rascal, and I'll have you put in prison. Egyptian prisons are
vastly uncomfortable, I am told, and I have a good deal more influence
with the present government than you do."
Alberto drew himself up.
"Now you threaten me," he said with satisfaction. "No need for threat.
If the lady do not want me, I go.
I come only for honor. I see now. I
understand. There is another! It is true, no? Who is he, this villain
who steal my darling's heart?"
Evelyn, who had born up magnificently, now showed signs of
breaking— which was no wonder.
"I can't stand any more of this," she whispered. "Amelia, can we not
make him go away? Can we call
for help?"
"Certainly," I said.
I passed Alberto— who drew back nervously— and threw open the door.
There
is usually a floor attendant on duty, and I meant to summon him. But
there was no need. Sitting on the floor, across the hall from our door,
was our dragoman, Michael. I
did not stop to ask why he was there. He leaped to his feet when he saw
me, and I beckoned him in.
"Take this man by the collar and throw him out," I said, gesturing at
Alberto.
Michael looked surprised, but he did not hesitate. As he reached out
for Alberto, the latter stepped back.
"No need, I go, I go," he exclaimed. "I leave Egypt. My heart is broke,
my life is— "
"Never mind that," I said. "One question before you go. How did you
find us here, and how did you get the money to follow us?"
"But I go to the British consul at Rome, what else? I work way on
boat— I am seasick, I am cold, but I work to follow my heart's— "
"Enough of that. Go, now, or Michael will— "
"I go." Alberto drew himself up. He rolled his eyes one last time at
Evelyn; then Michael took a step forward, and Alberto bolted out the
door with more speed than dignity.
"I follow, to be sure he is gone," said Michael.
"Thank you," Evelyn said gratefully."Your little girl, Michael— how is
she? Did you want us to come to her again?"
"No," Michael said. "No, lady. I come to tell you she is better. She
wakes up, she asks for food. I come to thank you; to tell you when you
want anything from Michael, you ask, even if it is his life. Now I will
follow the evil man."
With a gesture that oddly combined humility and dignity, he departed;
and as the door closed, Evelyn broke into a storm of weeping.
The storm was soon over. While I rushed around searching for smelling
salts and handkerchiefs, Evelyn recovered herself and insisted that I
sit down. She relieved me of my parasol, which I was still holding.
"You are more upset than you will admit," she said. "Let me order you a
glass of wine."
"No, there is no need. But perhaps you— "
"No." Evelyn sat down and looked at me steadily. "My predominant
emotion, strangely, is one of relief.
I feel as if I had
exorcised some evil spirit."
"It was Alberto you saw in the lounge, when you fainted."
"Yes. You will not believe me, Amelia; but when I saw him standing
there, watching me with that insolent sneering smile, I thought him a
demon of the mind, conjured up to remind me of my past. I was so happy
just then, with— with— "
"With Walter. Why do you shrink from speaking his name? Do you love
him?"
"I cannot use that word; not after. . . . But, yes; I could love him,
if I had the right to love any decent man."
"Oh, come, you are being absurdly melodramatic! We are almost in the
twentieth century; abandon your old-fashioned morality."
"Do you think Walter would ask me to marry him if he knew of my past?"
"Well..." I shrugged uncomfortably. "He seems a nice young man, but he
is a man, after all. But why should he ever know"
There was no need for Evelyn to answer. He would know because she would
tell him. Candor was an integral part of her nature. She smiled sadly
at me.
"Let us change the subject, Amelia. All I meant to say was that I was
foolishly relieved to find Alberto mere flesh and blood. We have
finished with him now; but how amazing that he should actually follow
me here!"
"Yes. I wonder..."
"What?"
"If perhaps your grandfather had not recovered after all." Evelyn
gasped. "Heavens, Amelia, how cynical! And how clever of you. Oh, how I
hope it may be so!"
"Do not hope too much. I daresay there are other, equally cynical
reasons that may explain Alberto's appearance here. I shall take steps,
tomorrow, to see what I can find out. I must also go to Boulaq and
hurry Reis Hassan. The sooner we leave Cairo, the better for both of
us."
"Yes," Evelyn said, smiling wistfully. "It is becoming crowded with
people whom I do not wish to see. But Walter will not be
here much longer. He and Mr. Emerson are leaving in two days."
"Where do they go?"
"I cannot remember the name. It is several hundred miles to the south;
the remains of the city of the heretic pharaoh."
"Amarna," I said. "Yes. Well, child, let us go to bed. It has been a
tiring day."
But the day was not yet over.
Evelyn dropped off to sleep almost at once. She was worn out, poor
girl, by her emotional experiences.
I could hear her quiet breathing as
I lay sleepless under my canopy of white netting. Her bed and canopy
were across the room from mine, which stood near the window. There was
a small balcony outside. I
had left the shutters open, as I always did;
the netting protected us from insects, and the night air was
particularly sweet and cool. Moonlight streamed in through the window,
illumining the objects in its path but leaving the corners of the large
room deep in shadow. A ray of silver light shone distractingly on my
bed.
I am not often unable to sleep, but the events of the day had given
considerable food for thought. Oddly enough, I found myself principally
preoccupied with the exasperating Mr. Emerson and his peculiar ideas.
Peculiar— but stimulating. I thought about them for some time; and then
forcibly turned my thoughts to more important matters.
Walter and Evelyn.... Now there was a worrying subject. If she had been
what she pretended to be, an impoverished gentlewoman serving as my
companion, a marriage between the two might have been eminently
suitable. But I suspected that the elder Mr. Emerson controlled his
young brother; that there was not sufficient income to support a wife
for Walter and an archaeological expedition for Emerson, and that, if a
choice had to be made, Emerson would have the deciding vote. And poor
Evelyn was right; she would have to tell Walter the truth, and I
doubted that any man would take it in the proper way. He might marry
her and then spend the rest of his life nobly forgiving her. Nothing
can be more infuriating than
being forgiven over and over again.
I turned restlessly in my bed. The springs squeaked and something
outside the window— a night bird, or an insect— squeaked as if in
answer. I turned over on my side, with my back to the brilliant
moonlight, and lay still, determined to woo sleep. Instead, my thoughts
turned to Alberto, and I began to speculate about his motive for
following Evelyn. I could not credit the creature with the slightest
degree of altruism or love; he must have another reason for pursuing
her. I thought of several possible answers. No doubt he had other
prospects in mind when he deserted her. Perhaps one such scheme had
brought him to Egypt, the destination of so many travelers from Italy,
and, finding Evelyn under the protection of a wealthy woman— for so I
must seem to him — he had decided to see what could be gotten from me.
With such thoughts churning around in my mind I was no nearer sleep
than I had been. They distracted me from the usual night noises,
however; I was unaware of extraneous sounds until one sudden noise,
close at hand, struck my ear. It was a squeaking sound from one of the
boards of the floor. I knew it well; the faulty plank was between my
bed and the window, and my foot had pressed it several times that day.
I turned onto my back. I was not alarmed; I assumed that either I had
been mistaken about the origin of the sound or that Evelyn had woken up
and crept to the window for a view of the moonlit garden.
Standing over the bed, so close that its body brushed the folds of
white netting, was an incredible apparition.
It appeared to be swathed in a white mist, like an emanation of fog.
This blurred the features, but the general outline of the figure was
plain enough. It might have walked out of the main hall of the Boulaq
museum, where Maspero kept his prized, life-sized statues of ancient
Egyptian ladies and gentlemen. Like the painted statues, this
apparition had the hues of life, though they were faded by the cold
moonlight. The bronzed body, bare to the waist; the broad collar of
orange and blue beads; the folded linen headdress, striped in red and
white.
I was thunderstruck. But not by fear— no, never suppose for a moment
that I was afraid! I was simply paralyzed by surprise. The figure stood
utterly motionless. I could not even detect the rise and fall of its
breast. It lifted an arm, then, in a gesture of unmistakable menace.
I sat up and, with a shout, reached out for the thing. I do not believe
in apparitions. I wanted to get my hands on it, to feel the warmth and
solidity of human flesh. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the confounded
mosquito netting.
(My Critic reminds me that "confounded" is not a word a lady should
use. I reply that some strong expression is called for, and that I have
avoided others far stronger.)
It was the netting, of course, that had given the apparition its
ghostly aura, and it fit so well with the presumed supernatural
appearance of the thing that I had forgotten its existence. I plunged
head foremost into a muffling cloud of fabric; the bed sheet and the
skirts of my nightgown wound about my limbs. By the time I had fought
my way out of these encumbrances I was gasping for breath— and the room
was empty. I had succeeded only in waking Evelyn, who was calling out
agitatedly and trying to escape her own netting.
We met at the window; Evelyn caught me by the shoulders and tried to
shake me. I must have looked like a wild woman with my hair breaking
loose from its night braids and streaming over my shoulders. My
determined rush toward the window had persuaded Evelyn, as she later
confessed, that I was bent upon self-destruction.
"
He put out his arms. She shrank back, as if he had offered to strike
her.
"No, no," she gasped. "Amelia will help me. I can walk, indeed I can.
Pray do not touch me."
Poor Walter was as white as Evelyn. But there was nothing to be done
but accede to her wishes. She walked, falteringly, but
without any assistance except mine, to the stairs. As we started up, I
had only time to assure Walter that I would let him know next morning
how Evelyn was, if he cared to come by.
My maid was waiting when we reached our rooms. Evelyn rejected her
attentions, which were given grudgingly enough; she seemed to shrink
from any company but mine, but still refused to tell me what was wrong.
At her request, I dismissed Travers, telling her to go to bed.
"I believe I will send Travers home," I said, seeking to strike a
casual note, since Evelyn would not talk
of the matter uppermost in
both our minds. "She hates everything— the country, the Egyptians, the
boat— "
"And me," said Evelyn, with a faint smile.
"She doesn't think highly of me, either," I said, pleased to see Evelyn
regaining her spirits. "We can manage without her quite nicely. I shall
make arrangements tomorrow. Evelyn, won't you tell me now— "
"Later," Evelyn said. "I will explain later, Amelia, when I have....
Won't you return to the saloon? You were having such a nice talk with
Mr. Emerson. I am sure he is still there. You might reassure him and
his.... You might reassure them, and make my apologies. I am well; I
only need rest. I will go straight to bed. I really am quite well."
This speech, delivered in a rapid monotone, was quite unlike the girl I
had come to know. I looked at her searchingly; she refused to meet my
eyes. I started to speak, fully prepared to break down a reticence
which now alarmed me; then came a loud knock at the door of the sitting
room.
Evelyn started convulsively. A renewed pallor spread over her face. I
stared at her, too bewildered to speak. Who could this visitor be, who
knocked so peremptorily? And at such an hour! It was not too late for
evening social activities, but it was certainly too late for anyone to
be coming to our rooms. I could not believe that Walter's anxiety would
drive him to such a step. Moreover, it was clear from Evelyn's
demeanor that she suspected who the visitor might be, and that her
suspicion caused her deep dread.
Her eyes met mine. Her shoulders straightened, and she set her lips in
a firm line before she opened them to speak. "Open the door, Amelia, if
you will be so good. I am being a miserable coward. I must face this."
I suppose her speech conveyed a clue to my mind. I remember I felt no
surprise when I opened the door and saw the man who stood there. I had
never seen him before, but his swarthy complexion, his sleek black
hair, his bold good looks confirmed the suspicion Evelyn's manner had
aroused.
"Ah," I said. "Signor Alberto, I presume."
3
ALBERTO PLACED one hand on his heart and bowed. His look, as well ashis manner, verged on insolence; and as his eyes moved from my face
toward the inner doorway where Evelyn stood, pale
and still as a
statue, it was all I could do not to slap him.
"You invite me in?" he asked, looking at me. "I think you prefer I
would not speak of matters close to
our hearts except in the privacy."
I stepped back; silently I motioned him in; gently I closed the door
behind him. I wanted to slam it. Alberto rushed toward Evelyn.
"Ah, my lost darling, my heart's beloved! How can you desert me? How
can you leave me with agony
for your fate?"
Evelyn raised her hand. Alberto stopped, a few feet away from her. I
really believe the rascal would have taken her into his arms if she had
not moved. Now he cocked his head on one side and said, in tones of
deep reproach, "You push me! You crush me! Ah, I understand. You have
found a rich protectress. She gave you gifts and you abandon the poor
lover who give only love."
My parasol was standing in the comer. I went and got it. Evelyn was
silent throughout; I think she was too thunderstruck at the man's
insolence to speak. I approached Alberto and jabbed
him in the waistcoat with my parasol. He jumped back.
"That will do," I said briskly. "You abandoned this lady; she did not
abandon you, although she would have been wise to do so. How dare you
come here after writing that abominable message to her, after taking
all her possessions— "
"Message?" Alberto rolled his eyes. "I leave no message. Going out, to
seek employment, so I buy food for my beloved, I was strike by a horse
while I cross the street. Weeks I lie in the terrible hospital, in
delirious, crying out for my Evelyn. When I recover, I stagger to the
room which was my paradise. But she is gone! My angel has flown away. I
leave no message! If there is message my enemy must leave it.
I have
many enemy. Many who hate me, who try to steal my happiness, who envy
me my angel."
He looked meaningfully at me.
I have rarely seen such an unconvincing dramatic performance. Yet I was
not sure it might not convince Evelyn; love has a most unfortunate
effect on the brain, and I feared some lingering fondness for the
rascal might still move her.
I need not have feared. Evelyn's color had returned; indeed, her cheeks
were flushed becomingly with
an emotion that I recognized to be anger.
"How dare you?" she said in a low voice. "Have you not done me enough
harm? Oh, you are right to reproach me; I deserve your contempt. Not
for having left you, but for ever coming away with you in the first
place. But how dare you come here and insinuate such things about this
lady? You are not worthy to occupy the same room with her. Begone, and
never trouble my sight again!"
Alberto staggered back a few paces. He was counterfeiting shock and
anguish, but the ferrule of the umbrella, which I had against his
stomach, might have assisted his retreat.
"You cannot speak with true meaning. You are sick. No — you do not
understand. I come to marry you.
I offer you my hand and name. There is no other way for you. No other
man marry you
now, not when he know--"
He was an agile fellow; he jumped nimbly back as I tried to bring the
parasol down on his head, and
when I raised it for a second attempt,
Evelyn caught at my arm.
"Pray don't break a good parasol," she said, with a curling lip. "He is
not worth it."
"But he is trying to blackmail you," I said, panting with rage. "He is
threatening you with exposure unless you agree— "
"He may publish my infamy to the world," Evelyn said coldly. "Believe
me, Amelia, he has no more power over me. If any lingering trace of
fondness had remained, this would have ended it."
Smoothing down his hair, which had been disarranged by his rapid
movement, Alberto stared at us in affected horror.
"Blackmail? Threat?
Dio mio
,
how you do not understand me? I would not— "
"You had better not," I interrupted. "The first sign of trouble from
you, you rascal, and I'll have you put in prison. Egyptian prisons are
vastly uncomfortable, I am told, and I have a good deal more influence
with the present government than you do."
Alberto drew himself up.
"Now you threaten me," he said with satisfaction. "No need for threat.
If the lady do not want me, I go.
I come only for honor. I see now. I
understand. There is another! It is true, no? Who is he, this villain
who steal my darling's heart?"
Evelyn, who had born up magnificently, now showed signs of
breaking— which was no wonder.
"I can't stand any more of this," she whispered. "Amelia, can we not
make him go away? Can we call
for help?"
"Certainly," I said.
I passed Alberto— who drew back nervously— and threw open the door.
There
is usually a floor attendant on duty, and I meant to summon him. But
there was no need. Sitting on the floor, across the hall from our door,
was our dragoman, Michael. I
did not stop to ask why he was there. He leaped to his feet when he saw
me, and I beckoned him in.
"Take this man by the collar and throw him out," I said, gesturing at
Alberto.
Michael looked surprised, but he did not hesitate. As he reached out
for Alberto, the latter stepped back.
"No need, I go, I go," he exclaimed. "I leave Egypt. My heart is broke,
my life is— "
"Never mind that," I said. "One question before you go. How did you
find us here, and how did you get the money to follow us?"
"But I go to the British consul at Rome, what else? I work way on
boat— I am seasick, I am cold, but I work to follow my heart's— "
"Enough of that. Go, now, or Michael will— "
"I go." Alberto drew himself up. He rolled his eyes one last time at
Evelyn; then Michael took a step forward, and Alberto bolted out the
door with more speed than dignity.
"I follow, to be sure he is gone," said Michael.
"Thank you," Evelyn said gratefully."Your little girl, Michael— how is
she? Did you want us to come to her again?"
"No," Michael said. "No, lady. I come to tell you she is better. She
wakes up, she asks for food. I come to thank you; to tell you when you
want anything from Michael, you ask, even if it is his life. Now I will
follow the evil man."
With a gesture that oddly combined humility and dignity, he departed;
and as the door closed, Evelyn broke into a storm of weeping.
The storm was soon over. While I rushed around searching for smelling
salts and handkerchiefs, Evelyn recovered herself and insisted that I
sit down. She relieved me of my parasol, which I was still holding.
"You are more upset than you will admit," she said. "Let me order you a
glass of wine."
"No, there is no need. But perhaps you— "
"No." Evelyn sat down and looked at me steadily. "My predominant
emotion, strangely, is one of relief.
I feel as if I had
exorcised some evil spirit."
"It was Alberto you saw in the lounge, when you fainted."
"Yes. You will not believe me, Amelia; but when I saw him standing
there, watching me with that insolent sneering smile, I thought him a
demon of the mind, conjured up to remind me of my past. I was so happy
just then, with— with— "
"With Walter. Why do you shrink from speaking his name? Do you love
him?"
"I cannot use that word; not after. . . . But, yes; I could love him,
if I had the right to love any decent man."
"Oh, come, you are being absurdly melodramatic! We are almost in the
twentieth century; abandon your old-fashioned morality."
"Do you think Walter would ask me to marry him if he knew of my past?"
"Well..." I shrugged uncomfortably. "He seems a nice young man, but he
is a man, after all. But why should he ever know"
There was no need for Evelyn to answer. He would know because she would
tell him. Candor was an integral part of her nature. She smiled sadly
at me.
"Let us change the subject, Amelia. All I meant to say was that I was
foolishly relieved to find Alberto mere flesh and blood. We have
finished with him now; but how amazing that he should actually follow
me here!"
"Yes. I wonder..."
"What?"
"If perhaps your grandfather had not recovered after all." Evelyn
gasped. "Heavens, Amelia, how cynical! And how clever of you. Oh, how I
hope it may be so!"
"Do not hope too much. I daresay there are other, equally cynical
reasons that may explain Alberto's appearance here. I shall take steps,
tomorrow, to see what I can find out. I must also go to Boulaq and
hurry Reis Hassan. The sooner we leave Cairo, the better for both of
us."
"Yes," Evelyn said, smiling wistfully. "It is becoming crowded with
people whom I do not wish to see. But Walter will not be
here much longer. He and Mr. Emerson are leaving in two days."
"Where do they go?"
"I cannot remember the name. It is several hundred miles to the south;
the remains of the city of the heretic pharaoh."
"Amarna," I said. "Yes. Well, child, let us go to bed. It has been a
tiring day."
But the day was not yet over.
Evelyn dropped off to sleep almost at once. She was worn out, poor
girl, by her emotional experiences.
I could hear her quiet breathing as
I lay sleepless under my canopy of white netting. Her bed and canopy
were across the room from mine, which stood near the window. There was
a small balcony outside. I
had left the shutters open, as I always did;
the netting protected us from insects, and the night air was
particularly sweet and cool. Moonlight streamed in through the window,
illumining the objects in its path but leaving the corners of the large
room deep in shadow. A ray of silver light shone distractingly on my
bed.
I am not often unable to sleep, but the events of the day had given
considerable food for thought. Oddly enough, I found myself principally
preoccupied with the exasperating Mr. Emerson and his peculiar ideas.
Peculiar— but stimulating. I thought about them for some time; and then
forcibly turned my thoughts to more important matters.
Walter and Evelyn.... Now there was a worrying subject. If she had been
what she pretended to be, an impoverished gentlewoman serving as my
companion, a marriage between the two might have been eminently
suitable. But I suspected that the elder Mr. Emerson controlled his
young brother; that there was not sufficient income to support a wife
for Walter and an archaeological expedition for Emerson, and that, if a
choice had to be made, Emerson would have the deciding vote. And poor
Evelyn was right; she would have to tell Walter the truth, and I
doubted that any man would take it in the proper way. He might marry
her and then spend the rest of his life nobly forgiving her. Nothing
can be more infuriating than
being forgiven over and over again.
I turned restlessly in my bed. The springs squeaked and something
outside the window— a night bird, or an insect— squeaked as if in
answer. I turned over on my side, with my back to the brilliant
moonlight, and lay still, determined to woo sleep. Instead, my thoughts
turned to Alberto, and I began to speculate about his motive for
following Evelyn. I could not credit the creature with the slightest
degree of altruism or love; he must have another reason for pursuing
her. I thought of several possible answers. No doubt he had other
prospects in mind when he deserted her. Perhaps one such scheme had
brought him to Egypt, the destination of so many travelers from Italy,
and, finding Evelyn under the protection of a wealthy woman— for so I
must seem to him — he had decided to see what could be gotten from me.
With such thoughts churning around in my mind I was no nearer sleep
than I had been. They distracted me from the usual night noises,
however; I was unaware of extraneous sounds until one sudden noise,
close at hand, struck my ear. It was a squeaking sound from one of the
boards of the floor. I knew it well; the faulty plank was between my
bed and the window, and my foot had pressed it several times that day.
I turned onto my back. I was not alarmed; I assumed that either I had
been mistaken about the origin of the sound or that Evelyn had woken up
and crept to the window for a view of the moonlit garden.
Standing over the bed, so close that its body brushed the folds of
white netting, was an incredible apparition.
It appeared to be swathed in a white mist, like an emanation of fog.
This blurred the features, but the general outline of the figure was
plain enough. It might have walked out of the main hall of the Boulaq
museum, where Maspero kept his prized, life-sized statues of ancient
Egyptian ladies and gentlemen. Like the painted statues, this
apparition had the hues of life, though they were faded by the cold
moonlight. The bronzed body, bare to the waist; the broad collar of
orange and blue beads; the folded linen headdress, striped in red and
white.
I was thunderstruck. But not by fear— no, never suppose for a moment
that I was afraid! I was simply paralyzed by surprise. The figure stood
utterly motionless. I could not even detect the rise and fall of its
breast. It lifted an arm, then, in a gesture of unmistakable menace.
I sat up and, with a shout, reached out for the thing. I do not believe
in apparitions. I wanted to get my hands on it, to feel the warmth and
solidity of human flesh. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the confounded
mosquito netting.
(My Critic reminds me that "confounded" is not a word a lady should
use. I reply that some strong expression is called for, and that I have
avoided others far stronger.)
It was the netting, of course, that had given the apparition its
ghostly aura, and it fit so well with the presumed supernatural
appearance of the thing that I had forgotten its existence. I plunged
head foremost into a muffling cloud of fabric; the bed sheet and the
skirts of my nightgown wound about my limbs. By the time I had fought
my way out of these encumbrances I was gasping for breath— and the room
was empty. I had succeeded only in waking Evelyn, who was calling out
agitatedly and trying to escape her own netting.
We met at the window; Evelyn caught me by the shoulders and tried to
shake me. I must have looked like a wild woman with my hair breaking
loose from its night braids and streaming over my shoulders. My
determined rush toward the window had persuaded Evelyn, as she later
confessed, that I was bent upon self-destruction.
Other books
Cat Scratched! by Joy, Dara
The Amber Keeper by Freda Lightfoot
A Christmas Secret (Scandals & Secrets 4.5) by Janelle Daniels
Baby Before Business (Silhouette Romance) by Susan Meier
Extraordinary Losers 1 by Jessica Alejandro
Cold Shot to the Heart by Wallace Stroby
Pavilion of Women: A Novel of Life in the Women's Quarters by Buck, Pearl S.
Thwarted Queen by Cynthia Sally Haggard
Playlist for a Broken Heart by Cathy Hopkins
The Fire Kimono by Laura Joh Rowland
