Lion in the Valley (4 page)

Mr.
Baehler appeared to have had a change of heart. That is so typical of men; they
are always asking for something and then deciding they don't want it after all.
"I am not sure," he began.

"But
I am." I smiled and poked him with my parasol. "Have no fear, Herr
Baehler. I will approach the subject with the utmost delicacy. I will simply
point out that Kalenischeff is a cad, a thief, and possibly a murderer. I fancy
that will convince Miss Debenham."

Baehler's
lips quivered. "You have your mind made up? Nothing I could say would
dissuade you?"

"Nothing,"
I assured him.

Baehler
went off, shaking his head, and I finished my tea. It did not take long, for
Ramses had eaten all the sandwiches.

When
I returned to our rooms, prepared to assist Emerson in his toilette, a process
that is often unnecessarily prolonged because of his extreme reluctance to
assume formal evening dress, I found to my annoyance that he and Ramses were
gone. So was the cat. How they had eluded me I could not imagine; they must
have crept out the back entrance.

They
did not return for over an hour. Emerson's coat and collar had been unbuttoned
and the cat Bastet, perched on his shoulder, was nibbling disinterestedly at
the dangling ends of his cravat. Ramses' tumbled curls were gray with dust; his
boots left green footprints on the floor.

"You
have been in the bazaar of the dyers and fullers," I exclaimed. "Why,
in heaven's name?"

"Ramses
had a fancy for a fez," Emerson explained, stooping so that the cat could
step down onto the bed.

"Where
is it?"

Ramses
gazed round the room as if he expected to find the headgear in question had
moved under its own power and arrived before him. "It appears to have been
misplaced," he said finally.

I
groped for words. "Wash," I said.

"Yes,
Mama."

Followed
by the cat, Ramses went into his room, which adjoined ours. Sounds of splashing
ensued, accompanied by the tuneless humming with which Ramses enlivens his
ablutions. Under cover of the sound I addressed my husband.

"Well,
Emerson?"

"Well,
Peabody. We must make haste; I had not meant to stay so long in the
suk,
but
you know how these negotiations go, talking and drinking coffee and exchanging
compliments...." He stripped off his coat and tie and shirt as he spoke,
flinging them in the general direction of the bed. I picked up each article as
it fell to the floor and hung it on a hook.

"I
do know, I had planned to spend the day tomorrow doing just that."

"Now
you won't have to." Emerson turned to the washbasin. "I have taken
care of everything. We can leave for Dahshoor first thing in the morning."

"Tomorrow
morning?"

Emerson
splashed and sputtered and shook himself like a large dog. "Ah, most
refreshing. Won't it be wonderful to be back in the desert, Peabody? Sand and
stars, peace and quiet, solitude, no confounded distractions . .."

I
was extremely vexed with him, but amusement tempered my annoyance. Emerson is
as transparent as a child. Also, the ripple of muscle across his back
distracted me. I picked up the towel and assisted him to dry himself.

"I
see through your scheme, Emerson. You want to get me away from Cairo. Very
well. Naturally I share your enthusiasm for sand and stars, solitude, and so
on. But there are a great many things I must attend to before—"

"Not
at all, Peabody. Abdullah and our men have been at Dahshoor all summer; we
decided it was inadvisable to leave the site unguarded, if you recall. I don't
doubt that by this time they have selected a proper house and arranged it for
us, removing to it the possessions we left at Dronkeh last spring."

"Abdullah's
idea of a proper house is not mine. I will need—"

"Whatever
you need can be procured after you ascertain what it is you need." The
words were a trifle slurred and the speech lacked Emerson's usual precision
of
syntax. I saw that he was watching me in the mirror with an expression I knew
well.

"Need
I shave, Peabody?" he inquired.

"Of
course you must, Emerson. Your beard is heavy, and—"

He
turned and wrapped his arms round me, pressing me and the towel to his breast.
His cheek brushed mine. "Need I shave, Peabody?" he repeated
hoarsely.

"Emerson,"
I began, but I got no further for reasons which should be apparent to any
reader of sensibility. Since my normal intelligence becomes somewhat muddled
under the circumstances that then prevailed, I do not know how long it was
before an uncomfortable prickling sensation at the back of my neck made itself
felt. Freeing myself from Emerson's hold, I turned to see Ramses standing in
the doorway. The cat was in his arms and both were staring unabashedly.

"Ramses,"
I exclaimed somewhat breathlessly. "Are you smiling?"

"My
expression was one of affable approbation," Ramses protested. "It
pleases me to see you and Papa engaging in demonstrations of that nature. I
cannot as yet explain why that should be the case, but I suspect it may
indicate some deep-seated need for—"

"Ramses!"
Emerson had got his breath back. "Return to your room at once. And close
the door."

Ramses
promptly vanished, without so much as a "Yes, Papa." But the mood had
been broken. With an embarrassed cough Emerson reached for his shaving mug.
"We must do something about a bodyguard for Ramses," he said.
"Or rather, I meant to say, a companion, an escort—"

"The
first word was appropriate," I replied, attempting to smooth my ruffled
hair. It was futile, for the strands clung to my fingers with a kind of
physical electricity, induced, no doubt, by the dry heat. I sat down at the
dressing table in order to construct my evening coiffure.

"I
wanted to bring a manservant with us," I continued. "But you said
no."

"We
could hardly ask poor John to abandon his new bride," said Emerson,
briskly whisking the soap into foam. "Once we reach Dahshoor, Selim can
take up the duties he performed last season."

"Selim
was perfectly useless, Emerson. I didn't say so, for I would not hurt the lad's
feelings for the world, but he proved incapable of preventing Ramses from doing
anything. Indeed, he became Ramses' accomplice in crime rather than his guard.

"What
he really needs is a tutor," I went on. "His education has been
extremely one-sided, to say the least. He can translate hieroglyphic Egyptian
as easily as most children of his age can read English, but he has only the
feeblest acquaintance with the sciences, and none whatever with the history of
his great nation."

"He
has a good working knowledge of zoology, Peabody. He is always picking up stray
animals."

"Physics,
astronomy—"

Emerson
snorted so vigorously that foam flew all over the mirror. He wiped it off with
his arm. "What difference does it make whether the earth goes round the
sun or vice versa? It is an inconsequential piece of information."

"It
seems to me, Emerson, that that sentiment has been expressed by someone
else."

"No
doubt. It is the sentiment of any reasoning individual. Never mind about
Ramses' education, Pea-body. He will do well enough."

He
fell silent as he drew the shining blade of his razor across his cheek. Though
unconvinced, I refrained from
further comment for fear of causing a
serious accident. When he had completed the delicate operation, I felt it safe
to refer to another grievance. "So we are to leave in the morning?"

"If
that is agreeable to you, my dear."

"It
is not at all agreeable to me. There are several tasks I had meant to
complete—"

Emerson
whirled, brandishing the razor. "Such as interfering in the private
affairs of that Miss Devonshire."

"Debenham,
Emerson. The lady's name is Debenham. I had meant to speak a kindly word or
two—the advice her mother would give her, were she still alive. I will simply
have to find an opportunity tonight, that is all."

"Curse
it," Emerson said.

"Do
hurry, Emerson. Mena House will be crowded; the pyramids by moonlight are a
popular excursion. No," I went on, winding my braided hair into a neat
knot. "The tasks I referred to were those of shopping. I feel sure you did
not get all the articles I need."

"Yes,
I did. I even bought a load of those cursed medicines you are always inflicting
on people. Ipecacuanha, rhubarb, calomel, blistering plaster—"

"You
didn't get a set of communion vessels, I suppose?"

"Communion
... Peabody, I didn't object when you set yourself up as a physician, but I
will be forced to protest if you begin administering the sacraments. Not only
does that offend my principles—for I consider such activities the grossest kind
of superstition—but it is sure to get you in trouble with the authorities of
the Church of England."

"I
presume you jest, Emerson. You know perfectly well why I want the vessels. They
are to replace the ones the Master Criminal stole from the church at Dronkeh
last year. The distress of the poor Sheikh El Beled touched my heart; we cannot
restore the originals, so I thought I would get him another set. I don't
suppose you even looked for one."

"Antique
Coptic religious objects are not easily found, even in the bazaars of
Cairo," Emerson retorted. "It is all a ridiculous waste of time
anyway. Why didn't you just bring along a set of bathroom utensils from the
Penny Bazaar?"

I
ignored this churlish remark, being accustomed to Emerson's unorthodox
religious views. However, when he reached for his trousers I was moved to
remonstrate. "Not those trousers, Emerson. I have laid out your evening
clothes. A tweed suit is—"

"The
only attire appropriate for climbing the Great Pyramid, Peabody. You wouldn't
want me to spoil my only set of evening clothes, would you?"

"Climb
the pyramid? In the dark?"

"The
moon is at the full, as you know. There will be adequate light, I assure you,
and the view from the top of the Cheops Pyramid is an experience not to be
missed. I had planned it as a treat for you, my dear, but if you prefer to deck
yourself out in a regalia like the one that young woman wore today ... On my
word, she resembled nothing so much as a pouter pigeon, and I fully expected her
to flap up into the air."

Having
recognized the logic of his argument, I prepared to assume one of my working
costumes, a tasteful ensemble of purple tweed trousers and a
lavender-and-white-checked jacket, with a matching parasol. I am seldom without
a parasol. It is one of the most generally useful objects an individual can
possess, and I knew I would be glad of its assistance in the capacity of a
walking stick that evening, for the terrain surrounding the pyramids is quite
uneven. However, I felt obliged to
protest Emerson's assessment of Miss
Debenham's gown.

"Like
all men, Emerson, you have no sense of style, I admit the gown was a trifle
extreme, but it was lovely, I must ask Miss Debenham—" Emerson interrupted
my speech by planting his lips firmly on mine, removing them to murmur,
"You require no such artificial adornments, Peabody. You never look
lovelier to me than in your working trousers and shirtwaist, with a strip of
sunburn across your nose and your hair straggling out of its net. No, allow me
to revise that. You are even lovelier when you are not wear
ing-"

I
placed my hand over his mouth to prevent the completion of the sentence, for I
felt again the tingling that preceded Ramses' advent. Sure enough, I heard the
familiar voice: "May I come in now, Papa?"

'Yes,
come in," I replied, stepping away from Emerson.

"I
wished to ask, Mama, what I should wear," said Ramses.

'I
had intended you should wear your black velvet suit."

Ramses'
countenance, which seldom displayed emotion of any kind, darkened visibly. The
wearing of the black velvet suit was one of the few things that stirred him to
open rebellion. I could not imagine why the boy felt so strongly about it; with
its pretty lace collar and ruffled shirt, it was a perfectly appropriate
costume for a lad his age. (Though I must admit it did not suit Ramses'
swarthy, aquiline face and black curls as it would have done had his coloring
been more typically English.)

I
was forced to give way on this occasion, since the havoc that would have been
wreaked on black velvet
by an ascent of the pyramid would ruin the
suit. A thoughtful expression crossed Ramses' face when I expressed this
opinion, but he did not, as I had half-expected, offer to wear the suit after
all.

Two

M
ena
House, at the foot of the Giza plateau, had been open only a few years, but its
exceptional location had made it one of the most popular hotels in the environs
of Cairo. It had been designed to look like an old English manor house on the
outside, but the Oriental style prevailed within. A web of soft lights,
suspended from the high domed ceiling of the dining salon, created an aura of
mystery and magic. Mr. and Mrs. Locke, the owners, had purchased a number of
the beautiful antique mashrabiya screens, which added appreciably to the charm
of the room.