Lion in the Valley (44 page)

I
felt certain the shutters covered a window that opened onto the open air. From
that shutter now dangled a bright pink strip of flannel with a lapis scarab at
its end. If, as I hoped, the window gave onto a public thoroughfare, someone
was certain to notice my marker eventually.

I
ripped the rest of the flannel into strips and knotted the ends together. Not
even Sethos would notice that one strip was missing, and he could amuse himself
by speculating on what I had meant to do with the cloth.

Once
stripped down to my combinations—a one-piece, knee-length cotton garment
trimmed with lace and little pink bows—I picked up the filmy objects Sethos had
supplied. They were not quite so indecent as I had thought; the bodice was
low-cut and sleeveless, but not translucent, for the fabric was covered with
heavy embroidery and beadwork. But the trousers! There was enough fabric in
them to have covered the tall windows in my drawing room at home, but they
concealed very little. I put them on over my combinations.

"Let
down thy hair, oh my beloved...." It was halfway down already. My hair is
heavy and coarse, and the rough handling I had received had not improved the
neatness of my coiffure. I had no intention of appearing to respond to Sethos'
impertinent request, particularly since I meant to retain my hairpins if I
could. One never knows when a hairpin may come in handy. However, it was not
easy to rearrange my tresses without the help
of a comb or brush
and I was still struggling with them
 
when there was a rap on the door.

"Oh,
curse it," I said, quite as Emerson might have done.

The
door opened and Sethos put his head through the curtain. He stepped aside; the
bald-pated giant entered with another tray, this one loaded with plates and
dishes.

Sethos
looked me over and then remarked coolly, "I hope you don't mind my saying,
Mrs. Emerson, that the effect is not quite what I had expected. Never mind, it
is a start. That unusual garment you are wearing is sufficiently form-fitting
to assure me you are not concealing a pistol or a stiletto."

Having
arranged the dishes on the table, the giant retired. Scarcely had he vanished
behind the curtain before a series of thuds and knocks broke out. "Don't
get your hopes up," said Sethos with a smile. "It is not a rescue
party you hear, but my servant engaging in a bit of carpentry. I ordered a bar
to be placed on this side of the door, as a token of my respectful intentions
and my high esteem. Aren't you going to thank me?"

"What,
thank my jailor for refraining from assaulting me?"

Sethos
laughed and shook his head. "You are incomparable, my dear—Mrs. Emerson.
Please sit down and let us dine."

He
lifted a silver cover. The delicious aroma of chicken and spices reminded me
that I was extremely hungry, my luncheon having been rudely interrupted. I
would require all my strength in the hours to come; so I sat down on a cushion
and helped myself. I refused wine, however.

"Don't
worry," said Sethos, with one of his peculiar smiles. "I do not
intend to weaken your resistance by rendering you intoxicated. It may take
weeks, even
months, but eventually you will learn to
love me for myself."

"Months!
You can't keep me shut up in one room so long. I need exercise, fresh
air—"

"Never
fear. This is only a temporary stopover. Tomorrow we leave for one of my
country estates. I have prepared it especially for you and I know you will
appreciate it. There are gardens filled with shade trees and exotic blooms,
winding paths and crystal fountains, where you will be free to wander as you
will."

This
was a piece of news, and no mistake! I should have expected it, but it cast a
decided shadow over my hope of escape. I knew Emerson would find me sooner or
later if I remained in Cairo; but even Emerson would find it difficult to
search every inch of Egypt. Nor had Sethos said we were to remain in Egypt. His
villa might be anywhere in the Near East—or the world!

The
longer I could delay our departure, the better for me, but I could not think of
any way of doing that. To pretend illness would not deceive Sethos; to pretend
a sudden, overwhelming affection would be even less convincing, supposing I
could bring myself to simulate that emotion. However, it would do no harm to
simulate tolerance at least, and encourage him to talk in the hope that he
might inadvertently betray some information I could use.

"Who
are you really?" I asked. "Is this your true appearance?"

Sethos
smiled. "That is another of the qualities I love in you, Amelia—I beg your
pardon, Mrs. Emerson. You are not subtle. Much as I yearn to confide in you,
greatly as I burn to come to you as myself, caution compels me to preserve my
incognito until we are truly united. This face you see is only one of a
thousand I can assume if I wish. I am, if I may say so, a master in the art of
disguise.
Permit me the indulgence of boasting a little— of making myself appear
admirable in the opinion of one I adore—"

"Pray
continue," I said, helping myself to a salad. "The subject interests
me a great deal."

"But
it is not a subject in which you could excel. You are my antithesis, direct
where I am subtle, forthright where I am cunning and indirect. You go straight
to your goal, banging people over the head with your parasol, and I glide as
slyly and sinuously as a serpent. The art of disguise is essential in my
business, not only for practical reasons but because it casts an aura of the
supernatural over my actions. Many of my ignorant assistants believe I change
my appearance by magical means. Whereas in reality it is only a matter of
grease paint and hair dye, wigs and beards and costumes, and a more subtle yet
equally important alteration of demeanor. Gestures, carriage, the tone of the
voice—these change a man's appearance more effectively than any physical trick.
I can make myself an inch or two taller by means of special shoes and boots;
but I make myself appear shorter by holding myself in a certain way. If you had
examined the viscount with a critical measuring eye, you would have seen that
he was taller than his stooping posture suggested; that his bowed shoulders
were not so narrow as they seemed; that his hesitant speech and foolish
mannerisms suggested a physical weakness his actual proportions did not
support."

"But
his eyes," I exclaimed—for I was genuinely fascinated. "Surely the
priest of Dronkeh had black eyes; and Ramses assured me—"

"Ramses
has a great deal to learn," Sethos said. "There are ways of changing the
color of the eyes. Certain drugs enlarge the pupils. Paint applied to the
eyelids and lashes make the iris appear darker or lighter, especially if one is
fortunate enough to have eyes of an ambiguous shade between brown and gray.
Someday I will show you my bag of tricks, Amelia; in each of my hideaways I
have a laboratory fitted out with my equipment, including a few items I
developed myself. It may amuse you to experiment with them; though in your case
it would be difficult to conceal those sparkling, steely orbs or dim their
brilliance...."

He
gazed into them as he spoke, his voice dropping to a soft murmur.

"I
would rather hear rational discourse than empty compliments," I
said—though I was conscious of a perceptible quickening of my pulse.

He
drew back. "Forgive me. I will keep my word, though you make it very
difficult.... I will answer any questions you may have—except one."

"Your
real identity, I suppose. Well, Mr. Sethos, I have a dozen others. Why do you
lead such a life? With your abilities you could succeed in any one of a number
of lawful professions."

Thoughtfully
he replied, "Someday I will tell you my history, and then you will
understand the motives that impelled me into this admittedly curious way of
life. But one I may confess now. It is not for monetary gain alone that I rob
the dead and the living. The finest objects I acquire never reach the sordid
stalls of the marketplace. I am a lover of beauty; and the most beautiful objects
I take, I keep for myself."

His
meaning was unmistakable, for he gazed again into my eyes with an expression of
intense interest. I burst out laughing. "That is a very pretty speech, Mr.
Sethos, but I am afraid you have undermined your claim to be a connoisseur by
abducting me. Emerson is the only man—"

"Please
do me the favor of refraining from mentioning that person every few
sentences," he interrupted fiercely. "You are right, though; the
professor and I are more alike than he would care to admit, and his
appreciation of your charms is only one of the things we share."

"I
can't stop mentioning him, because he is constantly in my thoughts."

His
eyes fell. "You have the power to hurt me," he muttered. "Your
laughter wounded me deeply."

"I
really don't think I owe you an apology, Mr. Sethos. If I have wounded your
amour-propre,
you have done me a more serious injury. This is the first time I have been
abducted by a man who claimed to have been moved to madness by my beauty, so I
don't know the correct way to behave."

My
little attempt at humor was not well received. Sethos looked down at me.
"How could you have missed the attentions I paid you?" he demanded
tragically. "How could you have supposed, as you apparently did, that I
intended to harm you? Why, scarcely a day has passed since your return to Egypt
that I have not managed to speak to you or at least admire you from afar. Not
only was I the three individuals you mentioned—I was a tourist, a snake-charmer
in the Muski, even a digger in your own excavations. Everything I have done was
designed to demonstrate my deep passion—"

"Such
as whisking Ramses off the top of the Great Pyramid?"

"That
was a scheme that went awry," Sethos admitted. "I was—as you have
probably guessed—the American gentleman who spoke to you atop the pyramid. My
intention was to stage a daring rescue of that appalling child and restore him
to your arms. However, I was foiled by Donald Fraser, curse him."

"I
see. And on another occasion, when your horse ran away with Ramses—"

"The
same rascal interfered to spoil my plans." Sethos' lips curled back in a
wolfish snarl. "He at least will have occasion to regret his interference.
I had determined to slaughter his even more rascally brother the moment I
learned he had fired a shot that might have struck you. Ronald was a tiresome
fellow anyway, and so stupidly single-minded, I was afraid he would continue to
endanger you by making further attempts on Donald. So I did away with him, and
it gave me a particular satisfaction to incriminate Donald when I did so.
Surely you must have understood why I went to the trouble of carrying his body
all that distance and laying it at your feet? I returned the communion vessels
because, in a newspaper interview I read, you expressed your disapprobation of
that particular theft. I sent you flowers—you know the meaning of red roses in
the language of love—and a golden ring bearing my name! How could you have
overlooked their significance?"

"Good
Gad," I exclaimed. "So that is what was troubling Emerson! Poor dear
man, he must have thought—"

"Emerson
again!" Sethos flung up his hands.

My
poor dear Emerson! (I continued my soliloquy in my thoughts, since it did not
seem sensible to irritate my companion further.) Emerson had correctly
interpreted the signs I had missed. It was not surprising that I should have
done so, for my inherent modesty had clouded my normally clear intelligence. My
thoughts were in a whirl, for a new and terrible thought had invaded my calm.
Was it possible that Emerson believed—that he suspected—that he entertained for
a single instant the slightest doubt of the wholehearted sincerity of my
devotion? Was he—in short—jealous?

Impossible,
my heart cried out. Surely Emerson could no more question my affection than I
could doubt his. But if he did—if he could—then my disappearance must raise
doubts.... It was a thought more terrible than any fear of imminent
annihilation. I believe my lips actually quivered for a moment. But only for a
moment; the necessity of escape became more pressing than ever.

Incredibly,
I had almost forgotten my position in the interest of the conversation, and
another fear wormed its way into my mind. The man had a superhuman power of
fascination. I had been chatting with him easily, fearlessly. Could time bring
about the result he confidently expected?

Again
my heart responded with a fervent "Impossible!" But a doubt
lingered___

"Tell
me," I said resolutely, "about the Fraser brothers. How did you
become involved with Ronald?"

"Through
normal business channels," Sethos said readily. "I have in my employ
several of the most reliable assassins in Cairo. He approached one of them and
his request was, in due course, passed on to me. He had hired Kalenischeff
(whose reputation was known to everyone except the naive officials of the
police department) to distract Miss Debenham when she came to Cairo bent on
tracking down Donald Fraser and convincing him to tell the truth about Ronald.
Ronald could not permit that; only his brother's woolly-witted loyalty stood
between him and prison, disgrace and destitution. And he had good reason to
fear that Donald might yield to the persuasion of the young and wealthy woman
he secretly adored. Hence Kalenischeff, who led the girl astray instead of
helping her.