The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog (7 page)

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The succeeding days were very pleasant. It had been a long time since we had had the leisure to wander around Cairo renewing old acquaintances, to linger in the coffee shops fahddling with grave scholars from the university, and to explore the bookshops in the bazaar. We spent an evening with our old friend Sheikh Mohammed Bahsoor, and ate far too much. Not to have stuffed ourselves would have been a grievous breach of good manners, even though I knew I would have to put up with Emerson's snoring all night as a result. He always snores when he has taken too much to eat. The sheikh was disappointed to learn that Ramses was not with us and shook his head disapprovingly when I explained that the boy had remained in England to pursue his education. "What useful matters can he learn there? You should let
him come to me, Sitt Hakim, I will teach him to ride and shoot and govern the hearts of men."
M. Loret, the Director of the Department of Antiquities, was in Luxor, so we were unable to call on him as was proper, but we spent time with other colleagues, bringing ourselves up-to-date on the current state of archaeological excavation and the availability of trained personnel. One day we lunched with the Reverend Sayce on his dahabeeyah in order to meet a student of whom he had great hopes. The
Istar
was not nearly so fine a boat as the Pbilae, my own beloved dahabeeyah, but it recalled poignant memories of that never-to-be forgotten voyage I could not restrain a sigh when we took our leave, and Emerson glanced questionirigly at me.
"Why so pensive, Peabody? Were you not impressed with Mr. Jackson's qualifications?"
"He seems intelligent and well-trained. I was thinking of the past, my dear Emerson. Do you
remember— "
"Oh, your dahabeeyah. They are picturesque but impractical. We can reach Luxor by rail in sixteen and
a half hours. Shall we go to Meidum tomorrow? The nearest station is Rikka,- we can hire donkeys there."
He went on chatting, seemingly unaware of my failure to respond. As we went along the corridor toward our rooms I began to hear the sounds of what resembled a miniature war— shouts, crashes, thuds. The door to our sitting room stood open. It was from this chamber that the noises came and my astonished gaze fell upon a scene of utter confusion. Striped galabeeyahs billowed like sails in a storm as their wearers darted to and fro, cries and fulsome Arabic curses reverberated.
An even more fulsomely profane shout from Emerson, whose powers along those lines exceed any I
have ever heard, rose over the uproar and stilled it. The men stood still, panting. I recognized our safragi, who had evidently recruited several friends to assist him in whatever endeavor he was pursuing. As their robes fell into place I saw the object of that endeavor.
It had alighted on the back of the sofa, where it stood at bay, fur bristling and tail lashing. For a moment
a sensation of superstitious terror came over me, as if I beheld a supernatural emissary announcing disaster to one I loved. If the demonic Black Dog appeared to herald the death of a member of some noble families, what more appropriate Bane of the Emersons could there be than a large, brindled Egyptian cat?
"Bastet!" I cried. "Oh, Emerson— "
"Don't be absurd, Peabody." Emerson, wise in the ways of cats, cautiously circled around the animal. Its head swiveled to follow his movements and I saw its eyes, they were not golden, like those of our cat Bastet, but a clear pale-green, the color of peridots. "For one thing," Emerson went on, "Bastet is at Chalfont with Ramses. For another . . . Nice kitty then, good kitty . . ." He bent down and squinted at
the posterior of the feline. "It is a male cat. Very definitely male."
It was also bigger and darker in color. Nor did its countenance exhibit the benevolence of Bastet's. I have seldom seen a more calculating look in the eyes of any mammal, human or otherwise.
"Where did it come from?" I asked, and then repeated the question in Arabic.
The safragi held out his hands in appeal. They were bleeding from several deep scratches. The cat must have come in through the window, he had found it there when he entered to deliver a parcel and had tried in vain to evict it.
"So you enlisted an army of heavy-footed friends to help you," I said caustically, looking from the smashed vases and scattered flowers to the shredded curtains. "Go away, all of you. You are only frightening the poor creature."
The wounded safragi returned the animal's stare with one almost as malignant. I must say it did not look frightened. I was about to advance upon it— Emerson, I noticed, had prudently retreated— when the safragi glanced at the open door and exclaimed, "We have found him, Effendi. He is here."
"So I see," said Mr. Vincey. He shook his head. "Bad cat! Naughty Anubis!"
I turned. "Good afternoon, Mr. Vincey. This is your cat?"
His face, so melancholy in repose, brightened in a smile He wore a well-cut afternoon suit which became his trim form very well, but I noticed that though neatly brushed and pressed, the once expensive fabric was sadly worn. "My friend, my companion," he said gently. "But— oh, dear!— I see he has been very naughty indeed. Is he responsible for this chaos?"
"It was not his fault," I replied, approaching the animal "Any creature, when pursued— "
Mr. Vincey's cry of warning came too late. I withdrew my hand, which was now marked by a row of bleeding scratches.
"Forgive me, my dear Mrs. Emerson," Vincey exclaimed. He passed me and scooped the creature into
his arms. It settled down and began to purr in a deep baritone. "Anubis is what one might call a one-person cat. I do hope he didn't hurt you?"
"What an asinine question," commented Emerson. "Here, Peabody, take my handkerchief. Wait a moment— it was here, in my pocket— "
It was not in his pocket. It hardly ever was. I took the one Mr. Vincey offered me and wrapped it around my hand. "It is not the first time I have been scratched," I said with a smile. "No hard feelings,
Mr. Vincey. And Anubis."
"Let me introduce you." Vincey proceeded to do so, addressing the cat as seriously as he would have done a human being. "This is Mrs. Emerson, Anubis. She is my friend and she must be yours. Let him sniff your fingers, Mrs. Emerson . . . There. Now you may stroke his head."
Somewhat amused at the absurdity of the business, I did as he asked, and was rewarded by a renewal of the deep purr. It sounded so much like Emerson's softer tones I could not help glancing in his direction.
He was not amused. "Now that that is settled, you will please excuse us, Vincey. We have just got back and want to change."
Another example of masculine repartee, I assumed I would have called it rudeness.
"I am very sorry," Mr. Vincey exclaimed. "I came in the hope that you would take tea with me. I was waiting for you on the terrace when Anubis slipped his lead and I had to go in search of him. That is how it all came about But if you have another engagement— "
"I would be delighted to join you for tea," I said.
Mr. Vincey's sad gray eyes lit up. They were most expressive optics.
"Please yourself," Emerson grunted. "I have other things to do. Good day, Vincey."
He opened the bedroom door and let out a profane exclamation. The exclamation— though not the profanity— was echoed by Mr. Vincey. "Oh, dear! Was Anubis in that room as well?"
"It appears he was," I replied, studying the crumpled linens and scattered papers with some chagrin. "Never mind, Mr. Vincey, the safragi and his friends did more damage than Anubis, I expect. They
will—"
"Curse it!" shouted Emerson. He slammed the door.
I gathered up my handbag and my parasol, and after directing the safragi to tidy the rooms, I preceded Mr. Vincey into the hall.
"I need not apologize for my husband, I believe," I said. "You know his brusque manner conceals a heart of gold."
"Oh, I know Emerson very well," was the laughing reply. "To be honest, Mrs. Emerson, I am pleased to have you to myself. I have . . . I have a favor to ask."
I had a premonition of what that favor might be, but like the gentleman he was, Mr. Vincey waited to propose it until after we had found a table on the famous terrace and the waiter had taken our order.
We sat in silence for a time, enjoying the balmy afternoon air and watching the picturesque procession of Egyptian life passing along the street. Carriages let off passengers and picked up others, water carriers and vendors crowded around the steps. The tables were almost filled with ladies in light summer gowns and big hats, gentlemen in afternoon garb, and the usual sprinkling of officers. From his pocket Vincey had produced a lead and collar and fastened it on the cat. It submitted to this indignity more gracefully than its conduct had led me to expect, and squatted at its master's feet like a dog.
I found Mr. Vincey a pleasant companion. Our mutual affection for the feline species provided a useful introductory topic of conversation. I told him of the cat Bastet, and he replied with accounts of Anubis's intelligence, loyalty and courage. "For a good many years he has been not only my friend but my best friend, Mrs. Emerson. People talk of the selfishness of cats, but I have not found human friends so loyal"
I recognized this statement for what it was intended to be— a tentative reference to his unhappy history— but naturally I was too well-bred to indicate I knew of that history. I replied with a sympathetic murmur and a look that invited further confidences.
A flush mantled his cheekbones. "You must have guessed what I am about to ask, Mrs. Emerson. Your kindness and sympathy are well known. I had hoped— I am in need ... I beg your pardon. It is difficult for me to sue for favors. I have not lost all my pride."
"Pray feel no self-consciousness, Mr. Vincey," I replied warmly. "Misfortune may come even to the worthy. There is no cause for shame in seeking honest employment."
"How eloquently and with what exquisite tact you express yourself!" Vincey exclaimed. I thought I saw
a glimmer as of tears in his eyes. I looked away until he could conquer his emotion.
It was as I had supposed. Hearing of our plans for an enlarged, permanent staff, he was seeking employment. Once the difficulty of this admission was over, he proceeded to recite his qualifications. They were impressive: ten years of excavation, fluent Arabic, familiarity with the hieroglyphs, a good sound classical education.
"There is only one difficulty," he concluded, with a smile that shoi even white teeth. "Whither I go, Anubis goes. I could not abandon h
"I would think less of you if you did," I assured him. "That is no difficulty, Mr. Vincey. You understand
I cannot promise anything y; our plans are still in the process of being formulated. However, I will speak to Emerson and— without wishing in any way to hold out false hopes— I have every reason to believe
he will be favorably inclined to your offer."
"I cannot thank you enough." His voice broke. "That is the truth,
Mrs. Emerson, you have no idea— "
"Enough said, Mr. Vincey." Touched by his sincerity, respecting his dignity, I pretended to glance at my watch. "Dear me, it is getting late. I must hurry and change. Are you coming to the ball?"
"I had not intended to, but if you will be there—"
"Yes, indeed. I look forward to it."
"What costume are you wearing?"
"Ah, that is a secret," I replied gaily. "We are all to be masked and in disguise. Half the fun will be trying to recognize one's friends."
"I can't believe you have persuaded Emerson to attend," Vincey said. "He used to roar like a chained
bear at the very prospect of a social engagement. How you have civilized him!"
"He roared a bit," I admitted, laughing. "But I have found the perfect costume for him, one he cannot object to assuming"
"An ancient pharaoh?" Relieved of his embarrassment, Vincey was ready to enter into the spirit of the thing. "He would be a perfect Thutmose the Third, the great warrior king."
"Now, really, Mr. Vincey, can you picture Emerson appearing in public attired only in a short kilt and a beaded collar? He is a modest man. Anyhow, Thutmose was only a few inches over five feet in height."
"He would look magnificent in armor."
"Suits of armor are not so easily come by in the bazaar. You won't trap me so easily, Mr. Vincey!
I must be off now."
"And I, if I am to find some fancy dress of my own." He took the hand I had offered him, with a rueful look at the makeshift bandage around it, he raised it, bandage and all, to his lips.

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