The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog (38 page)

It was a little difficult to keep track of what was happening, for I was busily occupied in trying to protect Emerson, who kept squirming. Vincey had been somewhat confused, I believe, by the rapidity and apparent randomness of our actions. He hesitated for a perceptible moment before taking careful aim.
I closed my eyes and clung to Emerson. We would die in one another's arms, as he had once proposed. The idea did not appeal to me any more now than it had on that occasion.
The echoes of the shot deafened me. It took me some time to realize I was still breathing—unhurt, unwounded—and that there had been two shots, so close together the reports had blended into one.
I opened my eyes.
Directly in front of me was Emerson's arm. His elbow was braced against the floor, in his hand was
the rifle, which pointed up at an oblique angle, on the trigger was his finger.
Now I understood why Emerson had lured his foe into the cave and left the weapon lying on the floor,
as if useless to him. There had been only one bullet. He had certainly employed it in the most effective manner possible.
Pushing me away, he rose to his feet. I rolled over and sat up, my ears still ringing from the noise, my head in a whirl. When one has resigned oneself to death, it takes a while to get used to being alive.
Vincey lay crumpled on the floor, in a spreading pool of gore. Another man lay close by. He lay on his back, Vincey's bullet— the one meant for us— had struck him square in the breast and flung him backward. The lantern light lay gently on his still face and quiet, outflung, empty hands.

CHAPTER 16

"Physical strength and moral sensibility, combined with tenderness of heart,
is exactly what is wanted in a husband."

"Too late!" I cried, wringing my hands. "He gave his life for us! Oh, Charlie, if you had only come five minutes sooner!"
It was not so long as that, in fact, before our rescuers arrived. Charlie had been the first to enter now he knelt, head bowed, by the body of his kindly patron. His grief was so genuine I much regretted having suspected him.
"I doubt it would have mattered," Emerson said. "At the first sound of your approach, Vincey would
have acted, and the result would probably have been the same."
"You are right," I said. "Forgive me, Charlie. I was so fond of him, and you see, he gave his life for— What did you say, Emerson?"
"Nothing," said Emerson.
Charlie rose slowly to his feet. His face was drawn with pain and sorrow. I reiterated my apology. He tried to smile "I will always feel the same regret, ma'am. You can leave him to us, now— to me and
Rene. You look in pretty sad shape yourself. Go along, why don't you, and console Abdullah, he was trying to fight two fellows with rifles the last time I saw him."
We removed Abdullah from his victims, they had only been trying to defend themselves, and they fled
as soon as they were able. "Explanations will be forthcoming in due time, Abdullah," I said soothingly
"It was all a mistake."
"So long as you came to no harm," Abdullah muttered. Since it was too dark to see clearly, he so forgot himself as to run anxious hands over Emerson's frame, and would have done the same to me, I daresay, had not propriety prevailed.
Our loyal men fought for the privilege of carrying me, so I allowed them to do it in turn. Emerson did
not offer, the cat in his arms, he stamped along in such a brown study that he did not even seem to hear Abdullah's persistent questions. Finally I said, "We will tell you the whole story later, Abdullah, after we have rested Be content now with knowing that it is over. Er— it is over, isn't it, Emerson? Emerson!"
"What? Oh. Yes, I think so. There were others involved, only too many of them, but most were
Vincey's dupes or hired thugs. He was the mainspring. Now that he is gone, I believe we have nothing more to fear."
"Did you kill him, O Father of Curses?" Abdullah asked eagerly.
"Yes," said Emerson.
"It is good," said Abdullah.
Not until we reached the Nefertiti did Emerson lower Anubis to the ground and take me from the arms
of Daoud, whose turn it was. "Rest and eat, my friends," he said. "We will come to you later."
Anubis preceded us up the gangplank As I watched him trot briskly along, quite ready, as it appeared, to abandon his dead master without the slightest show of regret or remorse, I could almost share Abdullah's superstitious fear of the creature. "Vincey had trained him to respond to a whistle," I said softly. "That is how he was able to abduct you And tonight— "
"Tonight he responded as I had trained him," Emerson said. "I did not set out to kill Vincey, though
I was prepared to do so if there was no other choice. He had begun to annoy me. I would rather have taken him alive, however, and I expected he would follow the cat when it followed me."
"Trained him?" I exclaimed. "How?"
"Chicken," said Emerson. Stopping in front of my door, he extended one hand and turned the knob. "And, of course, the effect of my charismatic personality."
The steward had lit the lamps. As the door opened I let out a cry, for facing me was a pair of dim but dreadful forms, their garments in tatters, their red-rimmed eyes staring wildly, their haggard faces gray with dust.
It was our reflection in the tall pier glass. Emerson nudged the cat aside, kicked the door shut, deposited me on the bed, and collapsed beside me with a heartfelt groan. "Are we getting old, Peabody? I feel somewhat fatigued."
"Oh, no, my dear," I replied absently. "Anyone would be weary after such a day."
Emerson sat up. "Your protestations do not convince me. Let me put it to the test." And, seizing me in
a firm grip, he crushed me to him and brought his mouth down on mine
He went on kissing me for quite a long time, adding other demonstrations that almost distracted me from the astonishing realization that had burst explosively into my dazed brain. Finally I succeeded in freeing my lips long enough to gasp, "Emerson! Do you realize that I am— "
"My wife?" Emerson removed himself a short distance. "I certainly hope so, Peabody, because if you
are not, what I am about to do is possibly illegal, certainly immoral, and probably not becoming an
English gentleman. Damn these damned buttonholes, they are always too— "
The blouse was ruined in any case.

*  *  *

Sometime later (quite some time later, in fact) I murmured, "When was it that you remembered, Emerson?"
His arm encircled me and my head rested on his breast, and I felt that Heaven could hold no greater
bliss. (Though I would only admit to such an unorthodox opinion in the pages of this private journal.)
We were in perfect amity and would always remain so, for how could discord mar such understanding?
"It was a memorable moment," Emerson replied. "Seeing you come tearing along, waving that absurd
little pistol, without the slightest regard for your own safety . . . And then you spoke the words that
broke the spell: 'Another shirt ruined!'"
"Oh, Emerson, how unromantic! I would have thought—" I flung his arm away and sat up. He reached for me; I scrambled back on hands and knees. "Curse you, Emerson!" I exclaimed passionately. "That was days and days and days ago! Do you mean you kept me dangling in limbo, suffering agonies of doubt, fearing the worst, for days and days and days and— "
"Now, Peabody, calm yourself." Emerson pulled himself to a sitting position and leaned back against
the pillows. "It was not so simple as that. Come here and I will explain."
"No explanation can possibly suffice," I cried. "You are the most— "
"Come here, Peabody," said Emerson.
I went.
After an interval Emerson began his explanation. "That moment of revelation literally staggered me, it
was as stunning as an electric shock, and as brief. For the next few days fragments of forgotten memories kept coming back, but it required several days to put all the pieces together and fix them in place. To say
I was in a state of confusion is to understate the case. You will admit, I believe, that the situation was somewhat complex."
"Well . . ."
"The same could be said, of course, of all the situations you have managed to get us into," Emerson went on. I could not see his face from the position I occupied at that time, but I could tell from his voice that
he was smiling. "In this case it seemed wiser to keep my own counsel until I had got things straight in my mind. I often had trouble doing that even when I did not have amnesia to contend with."
"Your sense of humor, my dear, is one of your most attractive characteristics. At the present time, however— "
"Quite right, my dear Peabody. This delightful interlude cannot be prolonged, there are a number of
loose ends to be tied up. Let me be brief. The loyalty of at least one of our companions was in serious doubt. The only people I felt certain I could trust were you and Abdullah— and our other men, of
course. To confide in either of you would have been to endanger you and confuse the situation even further— were that possible."
He stopped speaking and— did something else. Greatly as I enjoyed the sensation, I recognized one
of Emerson's old tricks of distraction. His explanation had been glib and quite unconvincing.
However, his reminder of the stern duties yet to be faced had a sobering effect, firmly though reluctantly
I withdrew from his embrace.
"How selfish is joy," I said sadly. "I had almost forgotten poor, noble Cyrus. I must help Charlie and Rene make the necessary arrangements. Then there are our dear ones in England to be reassured, and Kevin O'Connell to be threatened into silence, and ... so many things. You must write to Ramses at
once, Emerson. Er— you remember Ramses, I trust?"
"Ramses," said Emerson, with a chuckle, "was the most difficult of all my memories to assimilate. On the face of it, my dear, our son is fairly unbelievable. Don't be concerned, I have already written to him."
"What? When? How did you . . . Curse it, Emerson, was it you who searched my room? I ought to
have known, no one else would make such a mess."
"I had to know what was happening to our family, Amelia. I was suspicious enough earlier to take the precaution of warning Walter, but as my memory returned I became deeply concerned about them. Ramses's letters touched me a great deal, I could not leave the poor lad fretting about my fate."
"You left me fretting," I snapped. "Just tell me one thing before we rise and fight again, so to speak. When you kissed me in the tomb— "
"It wasn't the first time I kissed you in a tomb," said Emerson, grinning. "Perhaps it was the ambience that snapped my self-control. I was a trifle put out with you, Peabody. You frightened me half to death."
"I was well aware of that. Andyou were well aware of our relationship, don't try to tell me you were not. Yet you— you . . . You never kissed me like that before!"
"Ah," said Emerson, "but you enjoyed it, didn't you?"
"Well . . . Emerson, I am seriously annoyed with you. You enjoyed it too, didn't you? Bullying me, taunting me, insulting me— "
"It had a certain titillation," Emerson admitted. "Like the days of our youth, eh, Peabody? And I confess
I did enjoy being wooed again. Not that your methods of winning a man's heart are exactly . . . Peabody, stop that! You really are the most— "
Between laughter, fury, and another emotion that need not be described, I had quite lost control of myself. How matters would have developed I do not know, for a knock on the door interrupted them
just as they were becoming interesting. Swearing, Emerson went into concealment in the bathroom, I assumed the first garment that came to hand and went to the door.
The sight of Rene's sad face sobered me. He was attempting to control his grief with manly fortitude,
but it was clear to sensitive eyes like mine.
"Forgive me for disturbing you," he said. "But I felt you would want to know. We are taking him to Luxor, Mrs. Emerson. He had expressed his desire to be buried there, near the Valley of the Kings,
where he had spent the happiest years of his life. We must leave at once if we are to catch the train
from Cairo. You understand the need to avoid delay ..."
I did understand, and appreciated the delicacy with which he had expressed this unpalatable fact.
I wiped away a tear. "I must say goodbye to him, Rene. He gave his life— "
"Yes, dear madam, but I fear there is no time. It is better this way. He would want you to remember
him as— as he was." Rene's lips trembled He turned away to hide his face.
"We will follow, then, as soon as we are able," I said, patting his shoulder. "His friends must be notified, they will wish to attend the memorial service. I will speak a few words, on that beautiful and appropriate theme: 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
Rene faced me. "Leave everything to us, madam You will stay at the Castle, I presume, when you are
in Luxor? I feel certain Mr. Vandergelt would want that."
"Very well." I gave him my hand. With a graceful Gallic gesture he raised it to his lips
"Mes hommages, chere madame. Adieu, et bonne chance."

*  *  *

I knew our little group would be sadly reduced in number that evening, but I did not expect to find the saloon deserted except for Kevin. He was scribbling in his beastly notebook, of course. When he saw
me he made a feeble attempt to rise.
"Sit down," I said, doing so myself. "And don't pretend to be overcome with exhaustion or grief."
"I am grieved about poor old Vandergelt," Kevin said "But if a man has to go— and all men do— that
was how he would have wished it to be. 'Greater love hath no man— '"
"You will no doubt quote that in your story," I said severely. "We must discuss that, Kevin. But where
is everyone?"
"Rene and Charlie have left for Derut, with— "
"Yes, I know. What about Bertha?"
"In her room, I suppose I asked for the pleasure of a conversation with her, but she put me off. As for your— er— the professor— "
"He is here," I said, as Emerson entered
To my fond eyes he had never appeared handsomer. His damp hair lay in shining waves, only the ugly half-healed scar marred the perfection of his chiseled features. With a smile at me and a scowl at Kevin he went to the sideboard. "The usual, Peabody?" he inquired.
"If you please, my dear. We might drink a toast, to absent friends and love passing the love of—"
"Watch your tongue, Peabody. That cursed journalist is writing down every word."
He handed me my glass and then confronted Kevin, whose jaw had dropped and whose eyes were popping. "I want to see your story before you send it off, O'Connell. If it contains anything libelous
I will break both your arms."
Kevin swallowed. "You— you have just destroyed my lead, Professor. You have regained your memory!"
"Is that the absurd tale that is making the rounds? How interesting. I wonder how much the courts
will award me in damages when I sue the lot of you."
"But I never— believe me, sir— " Kevin stammered, trying to cover the paper with his elbows.
"Good," said Emerson, baring his teeth. "Now, Mr. O'Connell, I am going to give you your next
dispatch. You may take notes," he added graciously.
It was, I confess, as neat a lie as I might have composed. Emerson omitted all references to the Forth affair, describing Vincey as "another of those old enemies who keep cropping up." His vivid descriptions of our various thrilling encounters with Vincey kept Kevin scribbling furiously. "So," Emerson concluded, "having tired of his attentions, I lay in wait for him this evening, with the assistance of Abdullah and two of Mr. Vandergelt's guards, whom he kindly lent me. Vandergelt was supposed to keep Mrs. Emerson
out of the way. That did not succeed, thanks to her inveterate habit of— "
" 'Love gave her insight into her adored spouse's intention. " Kevin muttered, his pen driving across the page. " 'And devotion lent wings to her steed as she rushed headlong. . . .'"
"If you dare print that, Kevin," I said. "I will break both your arms."
"Hrmph," said Emerson loudly. "Let me finish. Owing to an unavoidable— er— misapprehension on the part of my assistants, Vincey was able to get past them and enter the cave where we had taken refuge.
A slight altercation ensued, in the course of which Vincey shot Vandergelt. I was— er— unable to reach my own weapon in time to prevent it, but my bullet reached its target a moment later."
"A bit terse and flat," Kevin muttered. "Never mind, I can fill in the details. So what was the fellow's motive, Professor?"
"Revenge," said Emerson, folding his arms. "For an old, fancied injury."
" 'Years of brooding over an old, fancied injury had driven him mad . . .' You wouldn't care to be more explicit? No," Kevin muttered. "I see you would not. And the attacks on Mrs. E.?"
"Revenge," Emerson repeated firmly.
"Yes, of course. 'Knowing that no dart could strike deeper into that devoted heart than danger to
his . . .' Yes, that's the stuff. I can reel that off by the page."
"You are incorrigible, Mr. O'Connell," said Emerson, unable to repress a smile. "Remember I insist
on seeing it before you send it off. Come along, Peabody, I promised Abdullah we would talk to him."
The story Emerson told our men was quite different. It was like coming home again, to perch on a packing case on the deck with the men gathered around, smoking and listening, with occasional "Wahs!" and murmurs of amazement interrupting the tale. The stars shone brightly overhead, the soft breeze stirred Emerson's hair.
Some of what Emerson said was new to me as well. He had had an advantage over me, of course,
having "enjoyed" Vincey's hospitality so long, as he put it. And when I thought of that despicable villain, lounging at ease in his comfortable chair and gloating over his suffering prisoner, I only regretted that Emerson had despatched him so quickly. I had observed the incongruity of that article of furniture in the foul kennel where Emerson had been imprisoned, but not until I heard the note in Emerson's voice when he referred to it did I fully comprehend how so harmless an object as a red plush armchair could become a symbol of subtle and insidious cruelty. I would never be able to sit in one that color again.
Vincey's alibi had been wholly convincing to me. The written evidences of his residence in Syria had
been forged, of course, but even if I had questioned them I would not have got around to checking their validity until it was too late. Nor had I Emerson's reason for doubting poor Karl von Bork (I reminded myself I must inquire after Mary and see how I could be of assistance to her), especially when Bertha confirmed . . .
"What?" I cried, when Emerson reached this part of his narrative. "Bertha was Vincey's spy all along?"
"One up for me," Emerson remarked with a self-satisfied smile and a vulgar gesture.
"But her bruises—her courageous gesture in throwing herself at the door of your cell to prevent the
guard from entering— "
"She was only trying to get out," Emerson said. "She wanted no part of murder and she was frantic to escape. Seeing you come popping down out of the ceiling like a demon in a pantomime was enough to throw anyone into a panic. I myself was— "
"Please, Emerson," I said with as much dignity as I could command. It was not much, the horrid little creature had fooled me completely. I wanted to squirm when I remembered telling her she should overcome her squeamishness. Squeamishness! It must have been she, then, who drove the knife into Mohammed.
"Yes," Emerson said, when I expressed this opinion. "She was as deadly and sly as a snake. Small wonder, when you think of the life she has led."
"I suppose her sad story of being thrown into poverty by the death of her father was a lie, too," I said, clenching my teeth.
"Oh, is that what she told you? I fear her— er— career began much earlier, Peabody, she had been Vincey's companion for several years. One of his companions ... As for her bruises, they were all paint and padding. Weren't your suspicions aroused when she refused your medical attention and kept her
face hidden until the supposed injuries could heal?"
"Oh, curse it," I said. Abdullah had concealed his face behind his sleeve and several of the younger men were snickering audibly. "Was that why you went to ... Never mind."
"I had set out to win her over early on," Emerson said. His voice was quite serious. "By appealing, not
to her better nature, but to her self-interest. She is a brilliantly clever young woman, with no more
morals than a cat. Vincey was only the latest of her— er— associates. Affection had nothing to do with those relationships, she has changed allegiance as often as expediency dictated, seeking, I rather imagine, a man whose amoral intelligence was the equal of her own. Women are sadly handicapped in criminal activities, as in all others, society makes it difficult for them to employ their natural talents without the assistance of a male partner. I fear, Peabody, that your honorable and forthright character limits you when it comes to dealing with such persons. You always try to bring out the hidden virtues in people. Bertha had none."
I let him enjoy his triumph, though of course he was mistaken. I remembered the expression on the girl's face when she said, "How you must love him." It had not been one of contempt or sneering amusement. She had been touched, I knew it. And I did not doubt that Emerson's splendid attributes—of character,
I mean— had softened her as they had affected so many other women.
"She carried your message to Vincey, then," I said. "When you informed him you would be at the rendezvous tonight."
"Rendezvous," Emerson repeated throughtfully. "It certainly was, wasn't it? You are correct, Peabody. She had never lost touch with him. Several of the villagers were in his employ, all she had to do was
slip a note to Hassan or Yusuf when we passed through the village. While we were in the royal wadi
she communicated with him by leaving messages in a selected spot not far from our camp. One of the villagers served as post-boy, those rascals know every inch of the cliffs and can creep in and out and
up and down unobserved
"I did not succeed in convincing her that she would be better off with us than with Vincey until after
we returned to the dahabeeyah yesterday. She . . . What are you smirking about, Peabody?"
"Nothing, my dear. Do go on."
"Hmmph," said Emerson. "I laid the whole case before her and promised her immunity if she joined us, and imprisonment if she did not. The message she passed on this morning did not incriminate her, it
was only a notification to Vincey that I would be along the northern cliffs this evening."
"But," said Abdullah, who was not especially interested in the evil machinations of women, much less their reformation, "why did the men who were supposed to defend you take me prisoner instead?
Were they also in the evil man's pay? For surely Vandergelt Effendi would not— "
"That is right, Abdullah," I said. "Emerson, I believe we had better go now. You have not eaten, and
you must be very tired."
Emerson took my hint. It was not a subject I cared to discuss. With the memory of Cyrus's sacrifice
so fresh in my mind I would not, could not, think of how close he had brought us to disaster. I knew
the motive that had prompted him to the one ignoble gesture of his noble life, and I blamed myself for failing to realize the depth of his feelings for me. It must have been my rejection that had driven him to madness. Temporary insanity was the kindest and most likely explanation for his betrayal of Emerson— which he had redeemed with his life.
Bertha did not come to dinner. When we went to look for her, we found her room empty and her few possessions missing. Inquiry produced the information that a woman of her description— which would,
I admit, have fit most of the women in the village— had hired a boat to take her across the river several hours earlier.
To my surprise Emerson was not— or at least he put up a good pretense of not being— surprised. If I must be candid, which I always endeavor to be (at least in the pages of this private journal), it was a
relief to have her off my hands. How much of an obligation we owed her was questionable, if one balanced the evil against the good, I doubted the debt would have been in her favor. She was a woman and she had been much tried, but really, as I pointed out to Emerson, it would have been hard to find a suitable career for such a person.
"Hmmm," said Emerson, fingering the cleft in his chin. "I rather suspect, Peabody, that she has found
a suitable career by herself"
He refused to elaborate on this enigmatic remark, so I did not pursue it for fear of provoking sentiments that might mar the activities I had planned for the remainder of the evening.