The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog (39 page)

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Thanks to the assiduous assistance of Cyrus's steward, we were able to catch the afternoon train the following day He salaamed profoundly when we thanked him and bade him farewell, and I assured him that if he required a recommendation I would be happy to render him the praise his excellent service deserved. It was sad to say farewell to the
Nefertiti
. I doubted I would see her like again, for as I have said, such elegant sailing vessels were fading from the scene.
Emerson slept a good deal of the way, with Anubis curled up on the seat beside him. We appeared to have acquired another cat. The creature followed Emerson as devotedly as Bastet did Ramses, and I knew my husband's sentimental nature well enough to be certain he would not abandon the animal—especially when it showed him such flattering attention. Anubis's change of allegiance was not
a sign of cold-blooded self-interest, it demonstrated an intelligent appreciation of Emerson's superior character. I wondered what Bastet would make of the newcomer. The possibilities were somewhat alarming.
But there was little room in my heart that day for dark forebodings. I had brought a book from Cyrus's excellent library, but I read very little, it was pleasure enough watching the rise and fall of my husband's breast, listening to his deep sonorous breathing, and occasionally yielding to the temptation to stroke the lines of weariness that yet marked his face. Whenever I did, Emerson would mutter "Cursed flies!" and swat at my hand. At such moments the happiness that filled me was well-nigh unendurable. Soon our loved ones at home would know the same happiness, we had dispatched telegrams early that morning with messages of undying affection and assurances that all was well.
Night had spread her sable wings over the ancient city when we arrived. We hired a carriage to take us directly to the Castle. As it rattled away I looked back and saw, or thought I saw, a familiar form dart into the shadows. But no, I told myself, it could not have been. Kevin had left several hours before us, to catch the up-train to Cairo.
The carriage lamps shone dimly through the dark. The slow plodding of the horse's hooves formed a fitting accompaniment to my melancholy thoughts. It was difficult to imagine the Castle, in which Cyrus had taken such pride, without him Every room, every passageway, would be haunted by a tall, kindly ghost. I fancied Emerson must feel the same, in respect for my feelings he remained thoughtfully silent, holding my hand in his.
I assumed Rene had notified the servants of our imminent arrival, and indeed we were greeted by the majordomo as welcome and expected guests. Bowing, he led the way, but when I realized where he was taking us, I stopped.
"I cannot face it, Emerson. Not the library— not tonight. We spent so many hours together in that room, his favorite . . ."
But Anubis had preceded us along the hall, and the servant threw the door open. The scent of smoke— the smoke of a fine cigar— reached my nostrils. From a deep leather chair near the long table, with its scattering of books and periodicals, a man rose. Cheroot, goatee, beautifully tailored linen suit...
It was the ghost of Cyrus Vandergelt, exactly as he had appeared in life.

*  *  *

I did not swoon. Emerson claims I did, but he is always trying to find evidence in me of what he calls "proper ladylike" behavior. It is true— and who can blame me?— that my knees gave way and a gray
mist swirled before my eyes. When it cleared, I realized that I was seated on the sofa with Emerson slapping my hands and Cyrus bending over me, his goatee quivering with kindly concern.
"Oh, good Gad," I cried . . . But the Reader can well imagine the agitated iterations that escaped my lips in the course of the succeeding minutes. The warm clasp of Cyrus's hand assured me it was he, and not his apparition, the application of a mild stimulant restored my customary calm,- and before long we
were busily satisfying our mutual curiosity.
Cyrus was thunderstruck to discover he was supposed to be deceased. "I only got here an hour ago,"
he exclaimed. "The servants told me you were expected, which was sure good news, but they didn't tell me I was dead. You'd think one of 'em would have mentioned it. How did I pass on?"
"First we had better hear your story," said Emerson, with an odd glance at me. "Where have you been
for the past weeks?"
As I listened, a queer creeping feeling came over me. It was not the first time I had listened to such a tale.
"They snatched me right after I got off the consarned train in Cairo," said Cyrus. "I felt a little jab in my arm— reckoned a mosquito bit me. Then everything went fuzzy. I remember a couple of fellows stuffing me in a carriage, and that was it, till I woke up in what looked like a luxury hotel— bedroom, bathroom,
a fancy sitting room with overstuffed chairs and bookshelves. Only difference was, there weren't any handles on the doors."
He had been treated with perfect courtesy, he assured us. The food had been prepared by an excellent chef and served by servants who did everything for him except answer his questions.
"I was beginning to wonder if I'd spend the rest of my life there," Cyrus admitted. "I went to bed as
usual last night— I guess it was last night— and if you can believe it, I woke up this morning in a first-class compartment on the Cairo-to-Luxor express. I raised a commotion, as you might expect,
the conductor grinned and leered at me and informed me I'd been a little under the weather when my friends put me on the train. They'd handed him my ticket, straight through to Luxor, so that was all
right. Folks, I was in something of a daze, I tell you, but I decided I might as well come on here and
then try to figure out what was going on. 1 have a feeling you can tell me."
"I have a feeling we can," said Emerson, glancing at me.
I was bereft of speech Visibly pleased at being the chosen narrator, Emerson launched into his tale.
Not a word, scarcely a breath, was heard until he finished.
"Aw, shucks!" Cyrus gasped. "I tell you flat out, Emerson, I wouldn't believe a yarn like that if anybody else had told it. I don't think I believe it anyhow. How could anybody fool you into thinking he was me? You've known me for years."
I had been studying Cyrus's lean, lined face. The years had not been as kind to my old friend as I had believed I ought to have known that trim, tall (but not so tall by several inches) body and that remarkably well-preserved face were not his. The goatee had not been his either! How relieved Sethos must have been to dispense with it.
Naturally I put the matter more tactfully. "We had not seen you for several of those years, Cyrus. His imitation of your speech and mannerisms was perfect, he is a natural mimic, and he had several days
to study you, from hiding, before he left Cairo. His most useful weapon, however, was psychological. People see what they expect to see— what they have been told they are seeing. And once they have convinced themselves of that belief, no evidence to the contrary can persuade them they are wrong."
"Never mind the psychological mumbo-jumbo, Amelia," Emerson growled. "1 suppose, Vandergelt,
you do not have individuals named Rene D'Arcy and Charles H. Holly on your staff?"
"Staff? I don't have one. Hoffman left me last year to work for the Egypt Exploration Fund. I was
going to look for an assistant in Cairo There is a young fellow named Weigall— "
"No, no, he won't do," Emerson exclaimed. "He is not without ability, but his propensity for— "
"Emerson, please don't wander off the subject," I said. "Like Cyrus, I am finding this difficult to credit. Both those pleasant young men were lieutenants of ... of ..."
Emerson tried very hard to get the words out, but could not manage it. ". . . of the ... of the Master . . . Er— yes. We ought to have known they were not archaeologists. Holly's fear of heights was suspicious, and neither of them displayed the degree of knowledge they ought to have had, but there are few excavators who are worth a damn these days. 1 don't know what the field is coming to, what with one thing and . . . Yes, Peabody, I know; I am wandering from the subject They were— er— his men, as I began to suspect when they hustled him away so precipitately. The crewmen of the dahabeeyah were hired, like the guards."
"Oh, dear," I murmured helplessly. "Cyrus— Emerson— I do hope you will forgive me, but I am quite beyond sensible thought at this moment. Perhaps we should all have a good night's sleep and discuss
this further in the morning."
Cyrus was too much of a gentleman (in his rough-hewn American way) to resist such an appeal. Assuring me that the servants had our rooms prepared, he escorted me to the door. "It has been a busy day for all of us, and no mistake," he said. "Mrs. Amelia, my dear— I hope you believe that I would have been as anxious to serve you as that goldurned rascal appears to have been. Which reminds me— "
"That was what made his masquerade so convincing, Cyrus," I said. "That he acted as you would have done. My dear old friend, this day has brought one happy result. I am so glad, so very glad, that the reports of your death were greatly exaggerated."
As I had hoped, my little joke distracted him, and left him chuckling.
"Good work, Peabody," said Emerson, as we mounted the stairs arm in arm. "But you only postponed the inevitable. Between now and tomorrow morning we had better come up with a good explanation
for Sethos's energetic activities for and against us."
"I am not certain I fully comprehend his motives myself," I admitted.
"Then you are either stupid, which I do not believe, or disingenuous, which is equally unlikely," said Emerson coldly. "Would you care to have me explain them?"
"Emerson, if you are going to pretend you knew all along that man was not Cyrus Vandergelt, I may ...
I may be forced to . . ."
I did not complete the sentence. Emerson had shut the door of our room behind us. Taking me into his arms, he held me close. It was a sacred moment— a silent but fervent reaffirmation of the vows we had made to one another on that blissful day when we two had become one.
One of the supreme moments in a woman's life must be when she hears from the lips of the man she loves, without prompting or even little hints, the precise words she secretly yearns to hear. (It is also,
I believe, a rare occurrence.)
"I loved you from the first, Peabody," Emerson said, his voice muffled against my hair. "Even before I remembered you. From the moment you dropped down from the ceiling brandishing that pistol I knew you were the only woman for me— for even in trousers, my dear, your gender is unmistakeable. All
those days I was like a man wandering in a mist, seeking something desperately desired . . ."
"But you did not know what it was," I murmured tenderly.
Emerson held me off at arm's length and scowled at me. "What do you take me for, a moonstruck schoolboy? Of course I knew what it was. Only there seemed no easy or honorable way to get it. For
all I knew then, I did have a boring conventional wife and a dozen boring conventional children somewhere in the background. And you certainly did not behave like a conventional wife. Why the
devil didn't you pound the truth into my head? Such restraint is not like you, Peabody"
"That was Herr Doktor Schadenfreude," I said. "He insisted . . ."
After I had explained, Emerson nodded. "Yes, I see. That fills in the last portion of the puzzle, I think. Shall I tell you how I reconstruct the story?

*  *  *

"To answer the question you asked some time ago— no, I did not know who the devil Vandergelt was.
I didn't know who the devil anyone was! As my memories returned I did not even question the fact that he seemed to have grown younger instead of older since I last saw him. I accepted him because you and the others did.
"I did not suspect him then, but long before that, while we were still in Cairo, I had begun to wonder if
we had not been assigned a personal guardian angel. Didn't it strike you as curious that we managed to escape so many unpleasant encounters because of the apparently fortuitous appearance of rescuers?
The first time, when you were carried off at the masked ball, I managed by sheer good luck . . . Well,
if you insist, my dear Peabody, a certain amount of physical and mental agility on my part brought me back in time to retrieve you from your abductor. That was Vincey, of course. I presume you had informed all our archaeological acquaintances that we were attending the affair? It would not be difficult to search the suks and find the merchant from whom the famous Sitt Hakim had purchased articles of male attire.
"Our ensuing adventures began to assume quite a different complexion. The police official who led his men into a part of Cairo where the police never go, in time to drive off the hired thugs who had us cornered, the bumbling young German archaeology student who fired a warning shot just when a workman— who could not be found afterward— tried to lure you away with promises of a tomb—
which also failed to materialize, the fellow in the suk, who collapsed and was carried off by his 'friends'
— you didn't notice that, did you? I did, and it confirmed my feeling that we ought to get out of Cairo
as soon as possible.
"Abdullah told me of the party of drunken young Americans who miraculously appeared on the scene
in time to prevent you from being carried off the night Vincey snared me. It became apparent to me
that there were two different parties interested in us. One was bent on taking one or both of us captive,
he did not seem to care which. The other sought to ward off the attacker, but the fine timing of the incident in which I was taken prisoner indicated it was you alone the guardian angel cared about.
"We will never know the truth, but I feel certain my reconstruction of Sethos's activities is fairly
accurate. He had got wind of the Forth affair early on, as we both realized, he was the most likely
person to have done so. He— curse it, I hate to give the fellow credit, but I must— he held his hand.
He had promised you he would not interfere with you again, and he kept his promise (damn him!) until the moment when he realized that others were after Forth's treasure and that you might be in danger
from them. That gave him the excuse he wanted to break his sworn word.
"As soon as news of the attempted abduction at the ball reached him he was on the scene, organizing
his men. In one guise or another he must have been watching you day and night. Mind you, he felt no obligation to protect ME. From his point of view the most desirable result of the business would be your survival and my demise, but he was (curse the swine!) honorable enough to refrain from direct action against me. All the attacks on us were instigated by Vincey. Sethos only intervened to protect you from harm. In order to do that he was forced to assist me as well, but he must have prayed to whatever gods he favors that Vincey would succeed in doing away with me.
"At last he got his wish. I was gone, and you, he hoped, were or soon would be a grieving widow.
Cyrus Vandergelt, an old and trusted friend, appeared on the scene, overflowing with tender sympathy and very little else. It was due to the efforts of you, my dearest Peabody, and our devoted friend Abdullah, that I survived. I could almost feel sorry for Vandergelt-Sethos, what a blow it must have
been to him when you dragged me back into the land of the living!
"He was quick to recover— damn his eyes— and with characteristic ingenuity found a means, as he hoped, to rid himself of me while remaining within the letter if not the spirit of his vow. I must admit Schadenfreude was a brilliant inspiration. There is such a man, I suppose? Yes, but surely it ought to
have struck you as a strange coincidence that he happened to be, at that moment, in Luxor? Well, well,
I understand, I would have been in the same state of perturbation had our positions been reversed.
"The Schadenfreude who visited me was another of Sethos's confederates, well primed in his role.
What an absurd concoction of lunatic theories he presented! The aim, of course, was to keep us apart
and antagonistic to one another. Peabody, you adorable idiot, if you had had the sense to— er— force your attentions upon me, as you would probably express it... But I believe I understand the mixture of modesty and quixotic romanticism that prevented you from doing so. Though how you could ever have doubted . . ."
(A brief interlude interrupted the even course of the narrative.)
"So there we were at Amarna, with Vincey still on our heels and Vandergelt-Sethos wooing you with every device of luxury and devoted attention he could find. It was a pretty contrast to my behavior, I confess! Any sensible woman, my dear, would have given me up as a bad job and accepted the devoted attentions of a youngish, adoring American millionaire. He hoped his wiles would prevail, and he hoped even more that Vincey would succeed in doing away with me. But you remained steadfast. Not only did you repel his advances ... at least I hope you did, Peabody, because if I thought you had considered yielding, for even a split second ... I will accept your assurances, my dear. Not only did you repel him, you followed me like a devoted hound and risked your life over and over to keep me from the nasty consequences of my reckless behavior. You must have driven Sethos wild.
"At the end he could bear it no longer. You ought to have realized that I had not the slightest suspicion
of Vandergelt, or I would not have conspired with him to set up an ambush for Vincey. Even then— confound him!— he refrained from taking direct action against me. However, he did as much as he
could to ensure my death without firing the actual shot. The two men he sent with me had been ordered not to interfere with Vincey, they also prevented Abdullah from coming to my assistance. Nor could I have defended myself. As you observed, the rifle he lent me had only one bullet. The significance of
that little touch still eludes me. Perhaps 1 was meant to use it on myself rather than face capture! Or perhaps he expected me to test the weapon, if I had found it was unloaded I might have retreated from
a position that was clearly untenable.
"I rather imagine that once Vincey had killed me, the two guards would have dispatched Vincey. A
happy ending from Sethos's point of view, with your enemy and your inconvenient husband dead, you would eventually find consolation in the arms of your devoted friend. Sooner or later— if I read his character aright— he would have confessed his true identity and restored Vandergelt to his own place.
He could not have continued the masquerade indefinitely, nor would it have suited him to do so. He would have sworn to abandon his criminal activities— told you, as he did once before, that you and
you alone could turn him from evil to good . . . Damn the fellow's vanity!
"Thanks to your inveterate habit of meddling, my dearest Peabody, things did not work out quite as Sethos had planned. I had an inkling of the truth in that moment when we confronted one another,
with the evidence of his betrayal of me unmistakable, and his devotion to you equally plain. He did
not speak to me as Vandergelt in those last moments. I hope you don't believe, Peabody, that I was making a noble gesture when I handed you over to him. I fully intended to get out of that ambush
with a whole skin and beat Vandergelt— or whoever he was— to a pulp.
"At the end ... I cannot assess his character fairly. Yet he attacked, barehanded, an assassin with a
rifle, and took the bullet meant for us— for you. Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.
"In fact," Emerson concluded, "nothing else in his life became him in the slightest. I only hope, my dear Peabody, that you are not in danger of succumbing to that sloppy sentimentality I sometimes observe
in you. If I find you have set up a little shrine with fresh flowers and candles, I will smash it to bits."
"As if I would do anything so absurd! Yet he did have a code of honor, Emerson. And surely his last
act must atone in some measure—"
Emerson put an end to the discussion in a particularly forceful manner.