Lion in the Valley (40 page)

I
could not see Emerson's face, but I felt a hardening of the arms that held me.
"Are you sure," he inquired, "that the emotion you felt was
terror?"

"That
is a strange question, Emerson."

"It
was a strange dream, Peabody." He sat up and put me gently from him,
holding me by the shoulders and looking deep into my eyes. "Who was it,
Peabody? Who was approaching the door?"

"I
don't know."

"Hmmm."
He continued to gaze at me with that peculiar intensity. Then he said quietly,
"I believe I can identify the origin of your dream, Peabody. Your
description sounds like the one Father Todorus gave of his prison."

"Why,
of course," I exclaimed. "You are quite right, Emerson. No doubt that
explains it. Even my emotions were the same as those the poor old man must have
felt."

"I
am glad to have relieved your apprehension. Have I done so, Peabody?"

"Yes,
Emerson, and I thank you. Only—only I still have a sensation of approaching
doom—that something lies in wait on the threshold of our lives—"

"That
is a sensation to which you should be accustomed," said Emerson, in his old
sardonic manner. "Never mind, Peabody, we will face the danger together,
you and I—side by side, back to back, shoulder to shoulder."

"With
Ramses running around getting in the way," I said, emulating his light
tone. "Emerson, I apologize for disturbing you with my nonsense. Do you
dress
now and I will go out and light the spirit stove and make some
tea."

I
handed him his trousers, knowing he could never find them without a prolonged
and profane search. Emerson's broad shoulders lifted in a shrug, and he
accepted the offering.

I
crawled to the entrance of the tent. The flap had been secured by a simple slip
knot, running through a ring in the canvas floor. Unloosening this, I saw a
slit of daylight outside. It was morning, though still very early. Rising, I
pushed the flap aside and went out.

Immediately
I felt myself falling. I had tripped over some object that lay before the tent.
My outstretched hands struck the hard ground, but I felt the obstruction under
my shins. Not until I stumbled to my feet did I see what it was.

Donald
Fraser lay on his back. His limbs had been arranged, his hands were folded on
his breast. A blackened hole like a third eye marked the center of his forehead;
his blue eyes were wide open and their surfaces were blurred by a faint dusting
of sand.

I
did not scream, as an ordinary woman might have done, but a loud, shrill cry of
surprise did escape my lips. It brought Emerson rushing out of the tent with such
precipitation that the most strenuous efforts on my part were required to
prevent both of us from falling onto the corpse a second time. An oath broke
from Emerson; but before he could enlarge upon the theme, he was distracted by
a third person who came running toward us.

"The
assassin," Emerson exclaimed, freeing himself from my grasp and raising
his fist. As he recognized the newcomer his arm fell nervelessly to his side
and I myself staggered under the shock of the impression. I looked from Donald,
alive and on his feet, to Donald recumbent and slain; and then, somewhat
belatedly, the truth dawned on me.

"It
is Ronald, not Donald," I exclaimed. "What is he doing here? What is
either of them doing here?''

Donald
had seen his brother. The rays of the sun warmed the dead man's face with a
false flush of life, but there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that Ronald
was no more. With a cry that sent a thrill of sympathy through my veins, Donald
dropped to his knees beside the body.

"Don't
touch him," Emerson said sharply. "There is nothing anyone can do for
him now. He has been dead for hours; the rigidity of the limbs is well
advanced."

Donald
might not have heeded this sensible advice, but the sound of someone
approaching reminded him of a more important duty. He rose and ran to meet
Enid, taking her in his arms and holding her head against his breast.
"Don't look," he said in broken tones. "It is Ronald—my poor
brother, dead, foully slain!"

The
cat Bastet was at Enid's heels. After a curious but cursory inspection of the
body she sat down and began washing herself. I was tempted to speak severely to
her about her failings as a watch cat, but upon reflection I decided she could
not be blamed for failing to warn us of the killer's presence, if, as I assumed,
she had been shut in Enid's tent. Her primary responsibility had been to watch
over the girl and that aim had been achieved, though how much of the credit was
due to the cat Bastet only she (the cat) and heaven knew.

Emerson
went into the tent and returned with a blanket, which he threw over the dead
man. "A suspicion of murder does indeed arise," he said grimly.
"Aside
from the fact that I see no weapon in his
hand, he must have been carried to this spot after the deed was done. I am a
sound sleeper, but I rather think a pistol shot five feet from my ear would
have awakened me. Come, come, Donald, pull yourself together. Your grief is
somewhat absurd, considering the fact that your brother has done his best to
ruin you. Explain your presence."

Holding
Enid in the curve of his arm, Donald turned. With his free hand he dashed the
tears from his eyes. "I do not apologize for my womanly weakness," he
muttered. "At such a time resentment is forgotten and a thousand tender memories
of childhood soften the recent past. Professor, surely my brother's death casts
a doubt upon his culpability. He cannot have taken his own life."

"Precisely,"
Emerson said.

Enid,
more quick-witted than her lover, instantly understood Emerson's meaning.
"How dare you, Professor! Are you suggesting that Donald murdered his
brother?"

"What?"
Donald cried. "Enid, my darling, you don't believe—"

"No,
my darling, of course not. But he—"

Emerson
let out a roar. "If I hear one more maudlin phrase or sentimental
endearment, I will abandon you to your fate! You are in a pretty fix, Mr.
Donald Fraser, and I have a feeling we may be short on time. Answer me without
delay. What brought you here at this hour?"

"I
have been here all night," Donald said.

"I
see." Emerson's critical frown softened. "Well, Mr. Fraser, I must
say that demonstrates better sense than I had expected from you. Miss Debenham
can testify that you were with her—"

"Sir,"
Donald exclaimed, his cheeks flushed with indignation. "You are casting
aspersions upon the noblest, the purest girl who ever—"

Enid's
face was as rosy as his. "Oh, Donald, you dear, adorable idiot... He
was
with me, Professor. I shall swear to it in any court."

Donald
protested, of course, and it took several roars from Emerson to silence the
pair. To summarize the confused and impassioned statements that were eventually
produced, it seemed that Donald had spent the night stretched out on a rug
before the entrance to his beloved's sleeping quarters. She had not been aware
of his presence, and neither had heard anything out of the way.

Emerson
gave the young man a look of blistering contempt. "It is this cursed
public-school spirit," he muttered. "Of all the pernicious, fatuous
attitudes... What of Ramses, you irresponsible young fool?"

"He
promised me solemnly he would not leave the house during the night. I felt I
could take his word—"

"Oh
yes," I said hollowly. "But, Donald, the night is spent."

Across
the desert, from out of the sunrise, galloped a splendid horse, with a small
figure perched on its back.

Ramses
tried to bring the mare to a spectacular, rearing stop. The feat was of course
quite beyond his strength; he rolled off the animal's back and hit the ground
with a thump. Rising to hands and knees, he began, "Good morning, Mama.
Good morning, Papa. Good—"

Emerson
hoisted him to his feet. "Eschew the formalities, my son," he said.

"Yes,
Papa. Thank you for reminding me that time is indeed of the essence. A party of
officials has just disembarked from a government steamer. It will not take them
long to learn where we are to be found, and
from the constitution of the
group and the solemnity of their demeanor I deduce that some serious
matter—"

"Good
Gad," I exclaimed. "We should have anticipated this, Emerson. The
murderer—whose name, or epithet, rather, I need not mention—wishes to have
Donald arrested for his brother's death. Of course he would notify the
police."

The
latest catastrophe had struck Donald dumb. He stood staring helplessly as
Emerson ran his hands over the young man's body. "He has no weapon,"
he remarked.

"The
weapon," I cried. "Without it the police cannot prove—"

"That
is not necessarily true, Mama," said the voice of Ramses, from somewhere
nearby.

At
first I could not tell where he had got to. Turning, I discovered that he had
crept to the shrouded figure and lifted the blanket. After a brief and
emotionless stare he let the covering fall again and stood up. "The
situation is as I surmised," he said. "Papa, failure to find the
pistol that fired the fatal shot may not save Mr. Donald Fraser, for the prosecution
will claim it could easily be concealed in the sand. I would not be surprised,
however, if it were not found nearby, in a place easily discovered by the most
cursory search."

With
a cry, Enid ran toward her tent. I knew what was in her mind and hastened to
aid her; for although Ramses was right (drat him) in saying that the
absence
of the weapon would not clear Donald, the
discovery
of it would
certainly strengthen the case against him.

When
I reached her, Enid was crawling on the ground, brushing sand and pebbles aside
in her frantic search. However, it was Ramses who found the pistol wedged in a
crevice in the rock some twenty feet from the tent. Emerson hastily took it
from him.

"We
ought, by rights, to turn it over to the authorities," he said.

"Give
it to me," I said. "I will conceal it in my sponge-bag."

"Whatever
you do had best be done quickly," remarked Ramses. "For here they
come."

The
party was an imposing one—several constables, Major Ramsay, and no less a
personage than Sir Eldon Gorst, the Adviser on police matters in the Ministry
of the Interior. The latter was the first to speak. Dismounting from his
donkey, he approached me, his face grave. "Mrs. Emerson! It is always a
pleasure to see you; I wish our meeting could have taken place under more pleasant
circumstances. Professor—"

"Hallo,
Gorst," said Emerson. "Get it over with, will you? I have a great
deal of work to do. The body is over there."

"So
it is true," Sir Eldon said heavily. "I could scarcely believe... You
know Major Ramsay, I think?"

"Yes,"
I said, nodding frostily at the major. "We have only just made the tragic
discovery ourselves. May I ask how you happened to have been notified—hours
ago, one presumes, since it would take you some time to get here?"

Sir
Eldon started to speak, but was anticipated by the major. "The source was
unimpeachable," he said, scowling.

"It
must have been, to send you out on what might have been a wild-goose
chase," said Emerson. "Curse it, I insist upon knowing who dumped a
corpse on my doorstep. I am not a man to be trifled with, Ramsay."

"Damn
it, Professor," Ramsay began.

"My
dear fellow, there are ladies present," Sir Eldon exclaimed.
"Speaking of ladies—I am correct, madam, am I not, in assuming that you
are Miss Enid Debenham, whose prolonged absence has caused such concern to my
office?"

"I
am she."

"And
I," said Donald, "am Donald Fraser. I expect, Sir Eldon, that you
have been looking for me too."

Sir
Eldon bowed. It was clear that his unknown informant had told him, not only
about the death of Ronald, but the presence of Donald. "It is my duty to
inform you," he began.

"For
once I agree with Professor Emerson," growled the major. "Let's get
this over with."

He
gestured. One of the constables stepped forward. There was a click, and a soft
moan from Enid, and Donald stood handcuffed before us.

Thirteen

E
nid
insisted upon accompanying Donald to Cairo. Sir Eldon tried to dissuade her,
but Major Ramsay, who had no gentlemanly instincts, said she might as well come
along, since she would have to give a statement and he had a lot of questions
to ask her. I of course assured her I would follow as soon as possible. Instead
of protesting, as I expected, Emerson only gave me an odd look and said
nothing.

One
of the constables was left behind to search for the weapon. As I departed from
my tent with my sponge-bag over my arm, I saw him disconsolately surveying the
vast and tumbled terrain.

We
had to bustle in order to catch the morning train. I say we, for to my surprise
I discovered that Emerson meant to come with me. I was about to express my
approval and my pleasure when Emerson put an end to both by pointing out that
we would have to take Ramses
too. He was quite correct; leaving Ramses
at Dahshoor was too fraught with terrible possibilities to be contemplated. He
had Abdullah and the other men completely under his thumb. It need hardly be
said that Bastet also accompanied us, for Ramses refused to be parted from her
for any length of time.