Lion in the Valley (26 page)

A
brief and, on my part, rational discussion of the situation resulted in the
conclusion that the opening might indeed be the long-concealed entrance, and
that it would be possible for us to reach it if we exhibited a reasonable
amount of care. Emerson kept interrupting me with whoops of "Ramses!"
and Ramses kept answering, in that uncanny wail. I finally put an end to the
procedure by reminding Emerson that shouting used oxygen, a commodity of which
Ramses might be in short supply if indeed, as one could only assume, he was
shut into a place from which he could not extricate himself unaided. Emerson at
once agreed, and I must say I found it much easier to cogitate without him
bellowing.

Like
the larger stone pyramids, this smaller version had been built of blocks that
ascended like a giant, four-sided staircase. However, this structure was—as we
had evidence—much less stable than its neighbor; it would be necessary to
ascend with extreme caution, testing each block before putting one's weight upon
it. Emerson insisted upon leading the way. As he correctly (but, I thought,
depressingly) pointed out, if the block would not hold his weight, I would know
it was not safe to step on it.

At
last we reached the level of the opening and discovered that it was indeed the
entrance—or, at least, an entrance—to the interior. Nothing but blackness
showed
within. Emerson took a deep breath. I stopped him with a
soft reminder. "Even the vibrations of a loud shout..."

"Hmmm,"
said Emerson. "True, Peabody. Do you think he is in there?"

"I
am certain of it."

"Then
I am going in."

But
he could not. The narrow opening would not admit the breadth of his shoulders,
twist and turn them as he might. I waited until he had exhausted himself before
I mentioned the obvious. "My turn, Emerson."

"Bah,"
said Emerson; but he said no more. An exclamation of distress came from quite
another quarter. Donald had followed us; I had observed the skill with which he
moved on the uneven surface, and deduced that he must have done some climbing.
Now he said softly, "Professor, surely you don't intend to let her—"

"Let
her?" Emerson repeated. "I never
let
Mrs. Emerson do anything,
young man. I occasionally attempt to prevent her from carrying out her more
harebrained suggestions, but I have never yet succeeded in doing so."

"I
am narrower through the shoulders than you," Donald persisted.
"Surely I am the one—"

"Balderdash,"
Emerson said brusquely. "You have had no experience. Mrs. Emerson has an
affinity for pyramids."

While
they were discussing the matter, I removed my coat and lighted a candle. After
discovering that Ramses was not in his room (and before leaving the house) I
had dashed to the roof to retrieve my belt and my parasol. The latter I had of
necessity left below, but the belt and its accouterments had again proved their
utility.

"A
bientot,
Emerson," I said, and wriggled head-first into the hole.

There
was no reply, but a surreptitious caress upon the portion of my body yet
exposed was sufficient evidence of his emotions.

I
found myself in a narrow passageway lined with stone. It was high enough for me
to stand erect, but in view of the steep angle at which it descended I
considered it better to proceed in a crawling position. I had not gone far
before I saw something unusual. The darkness ahead was broken by an irregular
patch of brightness. The light strengthened as I moved slowly forward, and I
found that it streamed through a narrow gap in a huge fall of stone and brick
which had blocked the passage. Cautiously I assumed an upright position and
applied my eye to the gap.

Seated
on a large block of stone, his back against the wall of the passage, was
Ramses. He had stuck a candle onto the stone with its own grease, and he was
scribbling busily on a notepad. Though I knew he must have heard my involuntary
gasp of relief at finding him unharmed, he did not stop writing until he had
finished the sentence and ended it with an emphatic jab of his pen. Then he
looked up.

"Good
evening, Mama. Is Papa with you, or have you come alone?"

No,
dear Reader, the break in the narrative at this point is not intended to keep
from your ears (or eyes) the words I spoke to my son. I did not dare shout at
him for fear of disturbing the delicate balance of the stones around me. In fact,
it was Ramses who spoke, describing in wearisome detail the method by which we
ought to remove the fallen rubble in order to free him. He was still talking
when I left. My head had scarcely emerged from the entrance
hole
when it was seized by Emerson. In between raining kisses on my face, more or
less at random, he asked questions I could not hear owing to the fact that his
hands were covering my ears.

I
was pleased but surprised; Emerson's demonstrations of affection, though
extravagant in private, are not often displayed before an audience. And indeed,
if he had seen Donald Fraser's grin, he would have desisted at once.

Having
solved the auditory problem, I explained the situation. "I cannot shift
the stones, Emerson; they are too heavy for me. I think we will have to take
advantage of Mr. Fraser's offer after all."

"Is
Ramses all right? Is the dear boy injured?" Emerson inquired anxiously.

"He
is working on a manuscript which I presume to be his Egyptian grammar," I
replied curtly. "Mr. Fraser, if you will?"

Donald
followed me into the passageway. At the sight of the obstruction he let out a
soft whistle. In the dim flame of the candle I held, he resembled one of the
ancient workmen crouching on hands and knees before the burial chamber in which
he had left his royal master hidden (as he vainly hoped) for all eternity.

I
said softly, "Study the situation, Mr. Fraser, I pray, before you touch
any of the stones. A careless move—"

"I
understand," Donald said.

Then
we heard a thin, high voice. "I suggest, Mr. Nemo—or Mr. Fraser, as the
case may be—that you endeavor to locate the pivotal point on which the relative
mass of the rockfall is balanced; for according to my calculations the total
weight of the portion of the pyramid over our heads is approximately eighteen
and one-third tons, give or take a hundred weight...."

I
find myself quite incapable of recording the rest of
Ramses'
lecture. It was accompanied by a monotonous undercurrent of profanity from
Donald Fraser, for which, I must say, I could hardly blame him. He performed
well, particularly under those somewhat exasperating circumstances, and soon
succeeded in enlarging the hole through which I had first seen the light of
Ramses' candle. As soon as it was big enough, Ramses' face appeared in the
opening, hideously shadowed by the candle he held. His thin face looked
alarmingly like the mummy of his namesake, and he was still offering
suggestions. "Mr. Nemo—if you will permit me to continue the use of that pseudonym
until I am formally introduced to you under your proper name—I strongly request
that you do not remove anything to the left— your right, it would be—of the
present gap. My appraisal of the situation—"

The
speech ended in a squawk as Donald, driven beyond endurance, snatched his
charge by the throat and dragged him through the opening. It was a chancy thing
to do, but it had no ill effect except on the nether portion of Ramses'
anatomy, which, as I later discovered, was violently scored by the rough edges
of the rocks as he passed rapidly under them.

"Precede
me, Ramses, if you please," I said coldly.

"Yes,
Mama. I would rather do that in any case, since I have the distinct impression,
from the strength of Mr. Nemo's grip, that he is in a state of emotional
excitation that makes me prefer to have some obstacle between myself and
his—"

I
gave Ramses a push. He said later that I had struck him, but that is not
correct. I simply pushed him in order to hasten his progress. It certainly had
that effect.

Our
return to the house was effected in utter silence. When we arrived it was
completely dark, and Hamid the cook informed us indignantly that dinner was
burned
to a crisp because we had not told him we would be late.

After
the required repairs to our physical and sartorial deficiencies had been
effected, and a distinctly inferior meal had been consumed, we gathered in the
sitting room for a council of war.

Feeling
that repairs to shattered nerves were also required, I offered whiskey all
round, except to Ramses, of course. He and the cat had milk and Enid chose a
cup of tea. The genial beverage (I refer in this instance to the whiskey) had
the desired effect, though in Emerson's case the improvement of his spirits was
due in large part to the relief of recovering his son more or less unscarred,
and to the fact that I was about to admit him to my confidence. As he put it,
during a brief moment of privacy, while I was removing my (or Enid's)
disheveled costume, "Much as I deplore your insane escapades, Peabody, I
resent even more being excluded from them."

Yet,
as I explained once we had settled around the table in the sitting room, there
was very little he did not know, now that the identities of the two young
persons had been disclosed. He could not blame me for failing to inform him of
Enid's real name, since he claimed to have recognized her from the start.

Ramses,
of course, also maintained he had penetrated Enid's disguise. "The bone
structure is unmistakable. A student of physiognomy is never misled by
superficial changes in appearance such as are wrought by clothing, ornaments,
or cosmetics. Which reminds me, Miss Debenham, that at some future time I would
like to discuss with you the devices ladies employ in order to change their
natural appearance—for the better, as they no
doubt assume, or
they would not resort to such things. The coloring of the lips and cheeks
reminds me of the Amazulu people, who often paint broad stripes—"

We
stifled Ramses, figuratively speaking—though Donald looked as if he would like
to have done so literally. He had already informed me that he was beginning to
understand my warnings concerning Ramses. "The boy doesn't need a bodyguard,
Mrs. Emerson, he needs a guardian angel—or possibly a squad of them."

The
young man was wearing his new shirt and trousers, and for the first time
resembled the English gentleman I knew him to be. He sat with eyes downcast and
lips pressed tightly together. Enid was also silent. The concerted effort both
made to avoid touching or looking at one another was in my opinion highly
significant.

Emerson
was the first to break the silence. ' 'It seems that whether I will or not, I
have become involved in the little matter of Kalenischeff's murder. Let me say
at the outset that I cannot help but believe there is some connection between
that event and the domestic matters Mr. Fraser has outlined. It is too much of
a coincidence that a third party should have decided to do away with the
villain—much as he deserved it—at the precise time when Miss Debenham had hired
him to help find her missing kinsman."

"Coincidences
do occur, Emerson," I said. "I know you would rather eliminate from
consideration that individual whose name I refrain from mentioning—"

"Oh,
the devil," Emerson growled. "You cannot mention his name, Amelia,
for you don't know what it is. Call him whatever you like, so long as it is
pejorative."

"Whatever
we call him, it would be folly to deny that he is involved. He has favored us
with communications on no less than four occasions. First, the attempted
abduction of Ramses; second, the return of the stolen communion vessels; third,
the presentation of the flowers and the ring; and last, today's attack. Only a
mind hopelessly and irrevocably prejudiced"—I carefully refrained from
looking at Emerson, but I heard him snarl—"would deny that all four events
bear the signature of Sethos."

"I
beg your pardon, Mama," Ramses said. "I concur with your conclusions
regarding the last three incidents, but in the first case—"

"Who
else would want to abduct you, Ramses?"

"A
great number of people, I should think," said Emerson. "Ordinarily I
would agree with your premise, Peabody—that there cannot be many individuals in
Egypt who yearn to make off with Ramses—but as I have learned to my sorrow, we
seem to attract criminals as a dog attracts fleas. I should feel hurt if we had
fewer than five or six murderers after us."

"He
is speaking ironically," I explained to Donald, whose bewildered
expression betokened his failure to comprehend. "However, there is some
truth in his statement. We do attract criminals, for the simple reason that we
threaten to destroy them and their vile activities."

"Yes,
but curse it, we aren't threatening anyone now," Emerson cried. "At
least... Ramses! Look Papa straight in the eye and answer truthfully. Are you
threatening any criminals at this time?"

"To
the best of my knowledge, Papa—"

"Just
answer yes or no, my son."

"No,
Papa."

"Have
you unearthed any buried treasures or antiquities you neglected to mention to
your mama and me?"