Lion in the Valley (7 page)

"But
it would be an even greater pity, would it not, to find a member of the
superior British race in that condition?" The words, couched in the purest
English, came from the fallen man. His lips writhed in a sardonic smile, and he
went on, "I regret to disappoint you, madam. I thank you for your
attentions. And I beg you will allow me to return to my gutter in peace."

He
attempted to rise, but sank back, swooning. I took advantage of his helpless
state to pluck the filthy turban and the underlying brown felt
libdeh
(cap)
from his head. No wonder he had resisted my attempts to remove them! I had
known Berbers with blue or gray eyes, but never one with hair of that peculiar
red-gold that is the hallmark of the northern peoples. Strands of silver
intertwined with the gold. Yet as I examined the sun-browned countenance,
further darkened (as Ramses had said) by a layer of grime, I realized it was
that of a young man. What terrible tragedy had rendered him prematurely gray?
Or was it the result of dissipation and drugs?

My
cogitations were rudely interrupted by Emerson, who had concluded his
discussion with Abu and appeared in excellent spirits. This is often the case
with Emerson after he has scolded someone.

"So
Ramses' hero is an Englishman? A Scot, rather, I think. He would not thank you
for the error, Ramses."

He
bent over the young man. "You had better return with us to the hotel, my
friend."

The
gentleman—for such he must be, from his educated accent—glared malevolently and
impartially upon us all. "If you wish to repay me for any fancied service,
you can do so by leaving me at liberty to do as I like."

"I
am in complete sympathy with your desire for privacy and independence,"
Emerson said. "I do not wish to reward you; I wish to offer you a
position."

"What?"
Astonishment smoothed the scowl from the young man's brow and gave his
countenance an ingenuous look that made me yearn to assist him. What he needed
was a woman's firm and compassionate care, and I was about to say so when
Emerson nudged me with such force that I was caught off balance—squatting being
a position I never assume with ease—and toppled gently onto my side. While I
was endeavoring to reassume an upright position, Emerson continued.

"I
have been searching for a muscular and dependable person to take charge of my
son. My name is Emerson, and this lady—"

"I
know who you are, sir."

"Then
you may also know that Mrs. Emerson is my professional associate as well as my
wife. (Do get up, Amelia, you look very unprofessional squirming on the ground
like an overturned beetle.) She has not the time to give Ramses the attention
he requires—"

"I
would say that Master Ramses requires a good deal of attention, if the events
of this evening are typical." A faint smile accompanied this comment.

"This
evening's events are not..." Emerson stopped. "Er—be that as it may,
we are leaving tomorrow morning for Dahshoor, in order to begin our excavations.
You would do us a favor if you would
consent to take the position, for which
you have already proved yourself so admirably qualified."

I
fancy the young man's surprise at this offer was scarcely less than my own. His
response was a sardonic laugh. ' 'You are out of your head, Professor. Would
you entrust your son to a renegade, a beggar, a smoker of opium, a
hashish-eater?"

"As
to that," I began, but did not finish the sentence because I saw Emerson's
elbow jut out, and my balance was still precarious.

"So
long as you refrain from indulging in drugs while on duty, your habits are not
my concern," said Emerson.

"Well...
Why not? It would be a new experience, at any rate."

"Then
let us return to the hotel," I said, rising.

"I
will not go with you," said the young man firmly.

"In
heaven's name, why not?"

"Because
... I choose not to," was the sullen reply.

"You
may choose to go to Shepheard's or to the devil," snapped Emerson, whose
patience was at an end. "Do I understand that you have refused my offer,
Mr.—"

"Call
me Nemo."

Emerson
raised his eyebrows. Before he could comment, the young man continued, "I
do not refuse. But I have certain personal matters to attend to before I leave
Cairo. I will be at the hotel tomorrow—at what hour?"

"Seven
a.m."

"Seven,"
Nemo repeated. "Until then, Professor."

Disdaining
my offer of a supporting hand, he rose and walked away without a backward
glance.

We
returned to our waiting carriage. Several other equipages were also waiting;
the one Kalenischeff had
driven was not among them. When our
vehicle was underway, Emerson said, "Well, Peabody?"

"Well,
Emerson?"

"I
am awaiting your remarks concerning our new servant. I am surprised you have
not expressed your opinion before this."

"Why,
really, Emerson, I consider this an excellent idea. I would have suggested it
myself had you not anticipated me."

"Oh,
indeed," said Emerson.

"We
have an obligation," I continued, "to assist unfortunate fellow
creatures, particularly those of our own nation. I don't doubt that the young
man has met some crushing disappointment—in love, most probably— which has
reduced him to his present plight. I hope you will not think me boastful if I
assert that my advice and experience have often proved beneficial in such
cases."

"Bah,"
said Emerson. "My motives are less altruistic, Amelia; I simply want
someone to watch over Ramses while we are—while we are otherwise occupied. I
know full well the futility of asking you not to attempt to reform the young
man's habits, but I beg you will not irritate him to such an extent that he
quits our service. That is all I have to say on the subject, and there is no
need for you to comment. Well, Ramses, you are unusually silent; what do you
think?"

Ramses
cleared his throat. "Thank you, Papa. I was waiting for someone to ask my
opinion, for after all I am the one most immediately concerned. Aside from the
fact that I do not feel myself in need of a nursemaid of either sex—"

"You
were certainly in need of someone or something tonight," I said
critically. "How could you be so careless as to allow yourself to be
abducted practically under our noses?"

Ramses
opened his mouth to reply; Emerson, who knew his son's tendency toward unnecessary
loquacity as well as I did, replied for him. "From what I have been able
to ascertain, from Ramses himself and from Abu, the thing was rather neatly
done. It was not the guides originally assigned to Ramses who carried him off.
Abu questioned these fellows after I reported that Ramses was missing, and they
told him they had been dismissed by an American gentleman who said he was a
member of our party. An extravagant amount of baksheesh removed any doubts they
may have had, nor would they be inclined to question the command of an
effendi."

"But
that is an astonishing development, Emerson," I exclaimed. "I had
assumed this was a simple, vulgar attempt at extracting money, or possibly a
trick of Kalenischeff's, to render us impotent while he carries out the
nefarious scheme in which he is presently engaged— whatever that may be."

"Neither
is likely, Peabody. Kalenischeff knows better than to interfere with me."

His
white teeth closed on the last word as if he were biting into Kalenischeff's
jugular, and I was forced to admit that his reasoning was convincing.

"Then
who could it have been? Who would have designs on Ramses, or on ... Good Gad,
Emerson!"

Emerson
raised his hand. "Please, Peabody. Don't say it."

"Who
else could it have been?" I cried. "Who else but that genius of
crime, the Master Criminal?''

I
see no sense in repeating the conversation that ensued. Emerson's remarks were
incoherent in the extreme, and he never allowed me to complete a sentence. I
presume

Ramses
attempted to interject his opinions, since he usually did, but he made no
headway. Emerson was still fuming when the carriage drew up before the hotel,
and I abandoned the discussion, since it would have been vulgar to go on
shouting at one another as we passed through the lobby.

The
safragi on duty in the corridor outside our rooms informed us that a number of
parcels had been delivered during our absence. Emerson nodded and flipped the
fellow a coin. "It will be the merchandise I ordered this afternoon,"
he said. "At least one thing has gone right today."

The
parcels were stacked in a corner. Atop the pile sat the cat Bastet, straight
and alert, as if on guard. In fact, she was useful to us in that capacity,
since the hotel servants were decidedly in awe of her. Her resemblance to the
hunting cats depicted in ancient tomb paintings and her doglike devotion to her
young master had convinced the superstitious fellows that she was not an
ordinary feline.

She
and Ramses greeted one another affectionately, but when he offered her the
scraps of chicken he had brought, she refused the treat, politely but
decidedly.

"Curious,"
said Ramses. "Very curious."

I
was forced to agree. Ordinarily the cat Bastet was passionately fond of
chicken. "Could there be something wrong with the food?" I asked uneasily.
"Poisoned, or drugged?"

"If
there had been anything wrong with it, we would all be writhing in agony or
comatose by now," snarled Emerson. "I have had enough melodrama
tonight; I can endure no more. Ramses, go to bed. Amelia—"

"Yes,
Ramses should retire at once, since we must make an early departure. In view of
what happened this evening, Ramses, you had better leave your door open."

Emerson
turned a reproachful look on me. "My dear Peabody," he began.

"I
see no help for it, Emerson."

"Bah,"
said Emerson. "Yes, very well. You should sleep soundly tonight, Ramses,
after your adventures. Very soundly. If you should waken and hear—er—hear
anything at all, pay no attention."

"Anything,
Papa?"

"Anything,
my boy. Er—Papa will attend to it, whatever it is."

"Yes,
Papa. But if I were to hear you or Mama cry out for help—"

This
innocent question made Emerson blush like a schoolboy. I was amused but not
inclined to intervene; as the Scripture so eloquently puts it, he had dug a pit
into the midst whereof he had fallen; and it was up to him to climb out of it.

"Papa
will explain," I said. "I must just step out for a moment. There is a
matter I must attend to."

The
flush on Emerson's bronzed cheeks turned from the scarlet of embarrassment to
the crimson of rising suspicion. "What matter?" he demanded.

"I
will be back shortly."

"Peabody,
I absolutely forbid..." My expression warned Emerson of the error of this
approach. "I
request
that you refrain from interfering in matters
that are none of your concern. The hour is late. You cannot wake people up in
the middle of the night to lecture them about their personal affairs."

"I
had intended to speak to Miss Debenham on the morrow, Emerson. It was your
decision to leave Cairo at once—made, I might add, without the courtesy of
consulting me—that forced this expedient upon me."

I
slipped out before he could reply.

The
safragi outside Miss Debenham's suite informed
me that she had not
yet returned, so I went downstairs to search for her in the lobby and on the
terrace. It was not so late as I had supposed; our evening had been so fraught
with interesting incidents that it seemed to have lasted longer than was
actually the case. The terrace was crowded with guests sipping refreshments and
watching the jugglers and snake charmers performing on the street, but Miss
Debenham was not among them. I thought I saw a flutter of saffron cloth among
the entertainers, but when I looked over the rail, there was no sign of the
renegade Englishman. I concluded that my eyes had deceived me. Saffron turbans,
though uncommon, were not unique to that individual.

It
was with a sense of deep frustration that I finally decided to abandon my quest
for the time being. There was no way of knowing when the pair would return, or
if indeed they would return that night. Kalenischeff had once told me in the
course of that rude encounter I mentioned earlier, that he had a pied-a-terre
in Cairo. He might have taken the girl there.

This
thought made me all the more determined to warn Miss Debenham of the moral and
spiritual dangers that threatened her. I was equally determined to have a quiet
talk with Kalenischeff. I felt certain that the proper mixture of persuasion
and intimidation would convince him to confide in me, and the events of the
evening made it imperative that I learn all I could about the mysterious
individual who was Kalenischeff's employer. I had left Egypt the previous year
with the firm determination of bringing this miscreant to justice. His attempt
to abduct Ramses proved beyond a doubt that he was equally determined to
revenge himself on me and my family. It was no longer only a question of
justice; it was a question of self-defense. Why Emerson failed to see this I
could not imagine.