Lion in the Valley (46 page)

After
a while I said, "Emerson."

"Damn,
damn ... Yes, Peabody? Damn!" said Emerson.

"Shall
I open the door now, Emerson?"

"Curse
the cursed fellow," Emerson bellowed, varying the tone of his remarks.
"One day—one day, I swear ..." He stopped kicking the marble and
stared at me. "What did you say, Peabody? Did I hear you correctly? Did
you ask my permission to open the door?"

"Yes,
you heard me, Emerson. But oh, my dear Emerson, I think we should let them in;
you are wounded,
my dear, and—"

"Do
you really want to let them in, Peabody?" "No, Emerson. At least—not
just yet."

"How
could you possibly suppose, even for a second, that I cared for anyone but
you?"

"Well,
Peabody, if you hadn't kept referring to that man in such admiring terms—"

"I
never stopped thinking of you for a moment, Emerson. I never lost hope that you
would find me."

"Had
it not been for your quick wit in stringing your bits of flannel out the
window, we would not have succeeded, Peabody. We began searching in the area
Ramses' research had indicated, but it was somewhat extensive."

"Where
did you learn to do that, Emerson?"

"This,
Peabody?"

"No—no,
not... Oh, Emerson. Oh, my dear Emerson!"

"I
was referring, some minutes ago, to your skill in fighting with broken bottles,
Emerson. I had no idea you could do that."

"Oh,
that. One picks up odds and ends, here and there.... Something is sitting on my
back, Peabody. Or are you—"

"No,
Emerson. I believe it is the cat Bastet. I suppose she has finished the chicken
and is indicating she is ready to leave. Shall I remove her?"

"Not
if it would necessitate your moving from your present agreeable position,
Peabody. The sensation is unusual but not unpleasant.... Without the cat
Bastet,
we might not have reached you so soon. Apparently your idea
that Sethos had tempted her with tidbits when he delivered the communion
vessels was right on the mark. She remembered him well; he dropped his
handkerchief in Miss Debenham's room, and his scent was strong on it. Bastet
picked it up at once in the street outside this house."

"How
very interesting! But without the signal of my flannel belt—"

"That
was the decisive factor, Peabody."

"You
were never out of my thoughts, Emerson."

"Nor
you from mine, Peabody. I imagined that fellow holding you in his arms—I
thought I would go mad with rage."

"He
was very courteous. He explained that he wanted to win my love, not force his
upon me."

"Curse
the rascal!"

"He
did have a strange charm, Emerson. Not that he would have succeeded with me,
but I imagine many women—"

"I
don't care for the tenor of the conversation, Peabody. Stop talking."

Before
we admitted the police, who were making agitated assaults upon the door, it was
necessary to tidy ourselves up a bit. After a refreshing splash in the fountain
I reassumed my dear familiar clothes. Fortunately there was a great deal of
fabric at hand, so I was able to bind up the cut in Emerson's arm, though I
promised myself I would tend to it properly as soon as we got to the hotel. We
then unbarred the door.

The
anteroom was filled with constables, led by Major Ramsay. He beamed with almost
amiable pleasure when he beheld us unharmed, though he was not at all
happy
to learn of Sethos' escape. After we had satisfied his curiosity as to the
events (most of them, at least) which had preceded our opening the door, I
asked curiously, "Where is Ramses?"

"He
is somewhere about," Ramsay replied.

Ramses
came running out of an adjoining room, his face alight with a boyish enthusiasm
seldom seen upon that saturnine countenance. "Mama," he cried.
"Mama, look here!"

He
swept his hand across his mouth and then curled his lips back, displaying a set
of brown, rotten teeth, like those of an old Egyptian beggar. "They are a
trifle large," he explained indistinctly, "but in time—"

"Take
them out at once," I exclaimed in disgust.

Ramses
complied, all the more readily because the dentures were in fact considerably
oversized for his mouth. "There are wonderful things in there," he
exclaimed, his eyes shining. "Paints for the face and hands, pads to fit
in the cheeks, wigs and beards and ... Oh, Mama, may I have them? Please,
Mama?"

It
was hard for a mother to disappoint a little lad, to wipe the shining joy from
his face. "I think not, Ramses," I said. "The police will want
those things as evidence."

(However,
it appears they did not; for since we returned to England, the servants have
complained of seeing strange individuals wandering around the house and the
grounds. One apparition is that of a little golden-haired girl, and Rose is
convinced we have a ghost.)

So
ended our second encounter with the strange and mysterious personage known as
Sethos. The second, and perhaps the last—for several days after that battle of
Titans we received a letter. It was delivered to us at
Dahshoor,
whither we had returned after seeing Ronald—or Donald, rather—and his
bride-to-be cleared of all charges and rejoicing in their approaching nuptials.
As Emerson had pithily expressed it, "Now that nonsense is over, thank
heaven, and I can get back to work."

But
was it over? An unseen messenger had delivered the letter, eluding our watchful
men, gliding like a ghost through the barred gates of the compound. We found it
on the doorstep one morning at dawn. Actually, it was Ramses who found it,
since he was usually the first one to arise, but it was Emerson's deep voice
that intoned the message aloud.

"
'You might have redeemed me,' " it began.

Emerson
stopped. "It seems to be directed to you, Peabody," he said drily.

"Read
on, Emerson. There are not now and have never been any secrets between
us."

"Humph,"
said Emerson. He proceeded. " 'From this time on, when the unhappy world
reels under the miseries of the blows I shall deal it, remember that its
suffering is on your head. My Amelia—my beloved...' Curse the fellow's
impertinence! I have half a mind to rip this paper to shreds!"

"You
may do with it what you like after you have finished reading it, Emerson."

"Bah,"
said Emerson. "Very well, then___'Henceforth you and yours are safe from
my avenging hand. You may refrain from assaulting elderly ladies whom you
suspect of being Sethos in disguise; you may leave unpulled the luxuriant
beards of suspicious gentlemen. You will see me no more. I am leaving Egypt
forever. Think of me sometimes, Amelia, as I will think constantly of you. What
could we not have achieved together!' "

"I
wonder if he means it," I said, as Emerson methodically converted the
letter into confetti.

"Humph,"
said Emerson.

"I
really wish you had not destroyed that letter, Emerson. It was not very
sensible."

Emerson's
hands stopped moving. "What did you say, Peabody?"

"You
are making a mess on my nice clean doorstep, and the time may come—I hope it
does not, but it may—when we might want a specimen of Sethos'
handwriting."

"Peabody,"
said Emerson, looking at me strangely.

"Yes,
Emerson?"

"That
is the first time in three days you have criticized or reprimanded me."

"Indeed?
Well, I am sorry, Emerson, but if you persist in—"

"No,
no, you don't understand." Emerson grasped me by the shoulders and gazed
into my eyes. "I was beginning to fear you had turned into one of those
boring females who can only say, 'Yes, my dear,' and 'Just as you like, my
dear.' You know very well, Peabody, that our little discussions are the spice
of life—"

"The
pepper in the soup of marriage."

"Very
aptly put, Peabody. If you become meek and acquiescent, I will put an
advertisement in the
Times
telling Sethos to drop by and collect you.
Promise me you will never stop scolding, Peabody."

Ramses
and the cat were both watching with intense interest, but for once I did not
care. I put my arms around Emerson's neck. "My dear Emerson," I said,
"I think I can safely promise that."