Lion in the Valley (18 page)

"Where
is Mr. Nemo?" I asked, after greetings had been exchanged.

"In
his room. I presume," said Ramses, picking up the pen he had laid aside
upon my entrance, "that he is smoking opium. I asked him if I might
participate, but he—"

"Ramses!"
I exclaimed. "You are not to take opium!"

"I
don't recall that you ever told me I must not, Mama."

"You
are right. I neglected to make that observation. Consider it made now. Whatever
put such an idea into your head?"

Ramses
fixed me with his wide, serious gaze. "It is a question of scientific
experiment, Mama. A scholar should not depend upon descriptions of results; in
order fully to assess them he must have a firsthand acquaintance with—"

"Never
mind; I should have known better than to ask. Ramses, if you ... You are
strictly forbidden ... Oh, good Gad, I have no time to counter your
Machiavellian arguments. I must see how Miss Marshall is getting on. But please
bear in mind ... Emerson, I leave you to talk to Ramses."

"Listen
to Ramses" was more like it; the boy launched into a long speech, in which
Emerson's feeble "But, my boy—" was swallowed up like a scrap of
paper in a whirlpool. At least I was confident that while the discussion
continued, I could talk to Enid without being overheard.

She
was lying on the cot when I entered, her face turned to the wall; but when she
saw who it was she leaped up with the energy and grace of a tigress.

"I
am going mad with boredom," she hissed. "I would prefer a prison cell
to this solitude—this suspense—and that abominable child popping in to ask me
questions about the funerary monuments of the Fourth Dynasty—''

"I
hope you didn't attempt to answer them?"

"How
could I? I didn't understand one word in ten." After a moment, the fiery
rage on her face faded and she collapsed onto the thin mattress, her face
crumpling like that of a frightened child. "Forgive me, Mrs. Emerson. I
owe you so much—but inactivity and ignorance of what is happening prey on my
mind."

"I
would feel much the same. Your inactivity is at an end. Tomorrow you will join
us on the dig. Don't worry about betraying your ignorance. You will be acting
as my assistant, and I will make sure you are in no difficulty. If Emerson asks
you a question you cannot answer, simply say, 'Mr. Petrie is of the opinion You
won't get any further. Emerson will either interrupt you or stalk off in a
rage. If Ramses questions you— which he almost certainly will—you need only ask
him what
he
thinks. The only difficulty then will be to get him to stop
talking. Have you any questions?"

"Any?
I have a hundred." Her eyes flashed. "You went to Cairo today. What
has happened? Have the police—"

"The
police are idiots. You must remain here until I have solved the case and made
it possible for you to resume your rightful position."

"You
said you knew—"

"I
said I knew who the murderer of Kalenischeff is. I spoke no more than the
truth, Miss Marshall. The only trouble is, I don't know who he... Let me
rephrase that. I know who he is: but I do not know... Good Gad, this is more
complex than I realized. The murderer is the leader of a criminal network of
which Kalenischeff was a member. You follow me so far? Good. Unfortunately,
although I have met the individual in question, I don't know his true identity.
He is a master of disguise."

Enid
looked doubtfully at me. "Do I understand you correctly, Mrs. Emerson? Are
you saying that the murderer is a sort of Master Criminal?"

"Excellent,"
I cried. "I applaud your intelligence, Miss Marshall. I knew from the
first that you and I would be in accord."

"Thank
you, ma'am. Forgive me if I do not appear
to be encouraged by the
information. From what I have heard about master criminals, they are geniuses
of crime and are not easily brought to justice."

"Quite
true. However, you may be sure that
this
genius of crime will be brought
to justice and by
me.
It may take a little while, though, so you must be
patient. Here are a few personal items I purchased for you in Cairo." I
handed her the parcel. "I apologize for the poor quality of the garments;
ready-made clothing is not of the best, but I did not feel I could march into
Shepheard's and collect your luggage."

"You
are more than kind," she murmured, her head bent over the parcel.

"Not
at all. I have the bill and expect you will reimburse me as soon as you are
able."

Enid
looked up with a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye, as the poet has it.
All at once she flung her arm around my neck and hid her face against my
shoulder. "Now I begin to understand why people speak of you as they
do," she murmured. "My own mother could have done no more for me.
..."

My
heart went out to the girl, but I knew that an overt expression of sympathy
would bring on the flood of tears she was trying valiantly to repress. I
therefore attempted to relieve the situation with one of my little jokes.
Patting her hand, I remarked with a smile, "I doubt that even your dear
mama could have been as useful in the present situation; a lady so well bred as
she would not have had my extensive acquaintance with hardened criminals and
their habits. Now, now, my dear, cheer up. I have a question for you. Why
didn't you tell me you were engaged to be married?"

She
raised her head, astonishment writ large upon her features. "But I am not.
Whoever told you that?"

"Mr.
Baehler, the manager of Shepheard's Hotel.

Your
affianced husband is in Cairo, burning to assist you."

"I
cannot understand ... Oh. Oh, heavens. It must be Ronald. I should have
known!"

"You
owe me an explanation, my dear girl. Who the dev—Who is Ronald?"

"The
Honorable Ronald Fraser. We grew up together, Ronald and I and ..." Her
lips closed. She sat for a moment in silence, as if thinking how best to
explain. Then she said slowly, "Ronald is my second cousin—the only kin I
have now. He has no other claim on me."

"Why
would he call himself your fiance, then? Or did Mr. Baehler
misunderstand?"

Enid
tossed her head. "He asked me to marry him. I refused. But it would be
like Ronald to assume I would change my mind. He has a habit of believing what
he wants to believe."

"Ah,
I see. Thank you for your confidence, Miss Marshall. And now I think you had
better put on the dress I brought you and join us for a cup of tea and a little
conversation. Afterwards we will retire to our tents. Did I mention you will be
sleeping in a tent tonight? I am sure you will enjoy it. Much more pleasant
than this stuffy room."

When
I returned to the sitting room, Emerson was still trying to explain to Ramses
about the horrors of opium addiction. He did not appear to have made much
headway. Ramses remarked, "May I say, Papa, that the poignant description
you have just delivered verges on the classic? However, you will permit me to
point out that there is no danger whatever that I would succumb to the
temptations you have so eloquently described, since mental lethargy is not one of
my—"

Emerson
  
shot
  
me
  
a
  
look
  
of
 
agonized
  
appeal.

"Ramses,"
I said, "you are not, under any circumstances whatever, to smoke, eat, or
imbibe any form of opium."

"Yes,
Mama," Ramses said resignedly.

I
then went to have a look at Mr. Nemo. I did not expect to find him indulging in
the occupation Ramses so longed to experience, since I had his supply of opium
and did not suppose he had money to buy more. I found him undrugged, and in a
very bad temper. He looked up from the book he was holding and glared at me.

"I
am glad to see you improving your mind, Mr. Nemo," I said encouragingly.

Nemo
tossed the book aside. "I don't want to improve my mind. I had no choice.
Haven't you anything to read except books on Egyptology?"

"You
should have asked Ramses. He has brought along some of his favorite thrillers—a
surprisingly low taste for a person of his erudition. Never mind that now, I
have a task for you. The moon is still bright; can you see well enough to put
up the other tent? I intend the young lady to sleep there tonight."

"I
would work in total darkness if it would get her away from the house,"
Nemo said gruffly. "What is she doing here? How long is she going to
stay?"

"She
is an archaeologist, Mr. Nemo. She has come to help with the digging."

"Is
that what she told you?" Nemo laughed harshly. "She has taken you in,
Mrs. Emerson—you, of all people! She knows nothing of archaeology."

"Are
you acquainted with the young lady?"

Nemo
averted his eyes. "I saw her in Cairo—another vain, empty-headed society
girl. Everyone knew who she was. Everyone saw her with that vile—that
contemptible—"

"Language,
Mr. Nemo. Language."

"I
was not going to finish the sentence. I don't care ... I don't care about
anything. I only want to be left alone. You took my opium, didn't you? I don't
blame you; you had every right. But the moment I get my hands on any money, I
will buy more. I cannot trust myself. You cannot trust me. Let me go back to
the gutter from which you took me."

I
was not moved by his appeal, though I knew it came from the heart. The young do
take themselves so seriously, poor things, and they tend to express themselves
in theatrical parlance.

I
sat down on the cot beside him. "Mr. Nemo, you are in deeper trouble than
you know. If you return to your gutter, you will be removed from it forthwith,
by the police. Are you honestly ignorant of the fact that the vile—that
Kalenischeff was murdered the night before last, and that you are one of the
prime suspects?"

Nemo's
reaction ended my suspicions of him once and for all. His look of abject
astonishment might have been feigned, but the dark blood that flooded his
haggard cheeks was a symptom beyond the skill of the most accomplished
thespian.

"I
know you didn't kill him," I said. "I am going to take you into my
confidence, Mr. Nemo. I am going to share with you a secret unbeknownst even to
my husband and—and, I
hope,
my son, although with Ramses one can never
be certain."

With
a mighty effort Mr. Nemo got control of himself. "I am deeply honored,
madam. To tell me something even the professor does not know—"

"I
really have no choice, Mr. Nemo, since you already know it—the young lady's
true identity. The murdered man was found in her room. Fortunately for her, she
fled before the police could apprehend her, but she is also a suspect. I have
reason to believe she may be
in even greater danger from another
source. Until I can find the real murderer, she must remain incognito and in
concealment. Admittedly her relationship with Kalenischeff was indiscreet, but
I am convinced it was no worse than that. She needs your help; she does not
deserve your scorn. Well?"

"I
am in a daze of disbelief," Nemo exclaimed. "I knew nothing of this!
I
was
at the hotel that night. I followed—that is to say—I followed my
own inclinations. ... But I had every intention of keeping my appointment for
the morning. However, after—after a while I changed my mind again. That is not
atypical of drug users, you know. There seemed to be no sense in waiting there
for hours, and I had some notion of showing my independence by making my own
way to Dahshoor.... But if I told that story to the police—"

"It
would sound very suspicious," I assured him.

"I
suppose so." Nemo brushed a lock of shining copper hair from his brow.
"Yet it seemed reasonable at the time. I swear to you, Mrs. Emerson, I did
not kill the rascal! And how anyone could suppose that she—a girl like
that—why, she is incapable of stepping on a beetle, much less murdering a man
in cold blood!"

"Your
incoherent exclamations testify to your good heart but are not of much
assistance otherwise," I said, rising. "Our task is to capture the
real murderer of Kalenischeff, thus freeing both you and Miss Debenham from
suspicion. He is the genius of crime of whom we spoke earlier—the man known as
Sethos. Are you with me?"

"Every
step of the way!" His fists clenched, his eyes glowed. "Wherever it
may take us. Into danger, into death—"

"I
don't intend to let it take us that far. First I want
you
to set up that tent for Miss Marshall, as she has chosen to be called."

Mr.
Nemo wilted. "I dare not leave my room," he muttered. "I don't
want her to see me. Not like this..."

"Then
I suggest you creep up the stairs to the roof and lower yourself to the ground.
It should be easy for a healthy young man. Once we have left the house, you can
safely return. Remember, I am counting on you to watch over Ramses tonight. I
doubt that our adversaries would dare enter the compound, but Ramses is apt to take
it into his head to go exploring while his papa and I are out of the way. I
have brought you a suit of clothing. Bathe, shave, brush your hair (the
necessary implements are in this parcel), and let me see you tomorrow looking
like an English gentleman."