Lion In The Valley Part 23

He gestured. One of the constables stepped forward. There was a click, and a soft moan from Enid, and Donald stood handcuffed before us.

Thirteen.

Enid insisted upon accompanying Donald to Cairo. Sir Eldon tried to dissuade her, but Major Ramsay, who had no gentlemanly instincts, said she might as well come along, since she would have to give a statement and he had a lot of questions to ask her. I of course a.s.sured her I would follow as soon as possible. Instead of protesting, as I expected, Emerson only gave me an odd look and said nothing.

One of the constables was left behind to search for the weapon. As I departed from my tent with my sponge-bag over my arm, I saw him disconsolately surveying the vast and tumbled terrain.

We had to bustle in order to catch the morning train. I say we, for to my surprise I discovered that Emerson meant to come with me. I was about to express my approval and my pleasure when Emerson put an end to both by pointing out that we would have to take Ramses too. He was quite correct; leaving Ramses at Dahshoor was too fraught with terrible possibilities to be contemplated. He had Abdullah and the other men completely under his thumb. It need hardly be said that Bastet also accompanied us, for Ramses refused to be parted from her for any length of time. too. He was quite correct; leaving Ramses at Dahshoor was too fraught with terrible possibilities to be contemplated. He had Abdullah and the other men completely under his thumb. It need hardly be said that Bastet also accompanied us, for Ramses refused to be parted from her for any length of time.

I could not make out what Emerson was planning. For him to abandon his work was almost unheard of, yet he had not even given Abdullah directions as to how to proceed, only told him to declare a holiday.

As soon as we had taken our seats on the train, I began my inquiries. I thought it better not to ask Emerson point-blank what was on his mind, but instead attempted to work up to it by subtle indirection.

"I trust," I began, "that the events of this morning have altered your appraisal of the situation and brought you around to my way of thinking."

"I doubt it," Emerson said curtly.

"Your belief that Donald's difficulties are purely domestic in nature-I believe you used that phrase-was obviously erroneous. Unless you think Donald killed his brother?"

"It seems unlikely," said Ramses, who had recovered his breath after being yanked into the compartment and thrust into a seat. ' 'Mr. Donald Fraser is not distinguished by great intellectual capacity-indeed, I cannot help but wonder what a lady of Miss Debenham's superior qualities could possibly see in him-but there is no reason why he should go to the trouble of carrying the body a long distance from the scene of the murder in order to place it conspicuously in front of your tent."

"Humph," said Emerson, tacitly acknowledging the truth of Ramses' a.n.a.lysis.

"Furthermore," Ramses continued, "if the pistol was his, it must have been procured in the last day or two, since he did not have it with him when he came, and I do not see how-" since he did not have it with him when he came, and I do not see how-"

"Did you have the effrontery to search the young man's belongings?" I demanded indignantly.

"He had no belongings," Ramses replied calmly. "Except for the opium and pipe which you took from him. Nor was there any hiding place in his room, except under the cot, which I investigated at an early-"

"Never mind," Emerson said, antic.i.p.ating my protest. "We will take it as read that Donald did not kill his brother. Some other person ... Oh, curse it, I may as well admit it. We are back to your friend Sethos, Amelia."

"I knew that from the first, Emerson."

"Bah," said Emerson. "Here is something I'll wager you don't know. I have come to the conclusion that Sethos has played the same trick he played on us once before-that at some point he has actually introduced himself to us. In disguise, I hardly need say-"

"Quite right, Papa," cried Ramses. "You antic.i.p.ate my very words. And I know who he is. The gentleman Mama met in Cairo, the self-styled private investigator!"

"Don't be silly, Ramses," I said. "You have not even met Mr. Gregson."

Ramses became red in the face with frustration. "But, Mama, I have tried over and over to tell you-Tobias Gregson is the name of the police officer in the detective stories by Arthur Conan Doyle. I put it to you that it would be typical of the strange sense of humor of the man known as Sethos to select as a pseudonym the name of the character Mr. Sherlock Holmes-the most famous private investigator in modern fiction-despised as a bungler and a fool. What do you know of this man, in fact? Did he show you his papers? Did he refer you to the police in order to verify his semi-official standing? Did he-" to the police in order to verify his semi-official standing? Did he-"

"I will not permit that accusatory tone, Ramses," I exclaimed. "Don't dare talk to me like a schoolmaster lecturing a dull student. Mr. Gregson was working under cover. Furthermore-er-furthermore, he has brown eyes."

Emerson started as if he had been stung. "I am shocked, Amelia, that you should go around staring into the eyes of strange men."

"I have good reason to notice the color of a suspect's eyes," I replied stoutly. "As for Mr. Gregson, I hope and believe you will meet him shortly. He is not Sethos. But I know who is. Mrs. Axhammer, the elderly American lady who visited us at Dahshoor!"

I expected Emerson to say "Bah," or "Humbug," or something equally insulting. His response offended me even more. He burst into a peal of laughter. "Come, now, Peabody, that is too absurd. On what basis-"

"Several. She was careful to wear a veil, but it did not conceal the lively sparkle of dark eyes. When on one occasion the veil was displaced, I observed that her teeth were firm and white and that her chin, though close-shaven, showed signs of stubble!"

"I have known old ladies with full mustaches and beards," said Emerson, grinning. "You are both wrong. I know who Sethos really is. His lordship, Viscount Everly!"

He gave me no time for reb.u.t.tal, but went on, "Ronald was in his entourage. It was while the presumed viscount and his friends were shooting at Dahshoor that both the incidents involving firearms occurred. It was his horse that bolted, endangering Ramses-"

"Pure coincidence," I said. "Sethos cannot be his lordship. He is Mrs. Axhammer."

"The viscount," Emerson growled.

"Mr. Gregson," piped Ramses.

His high-pitched voice contrasted so oddly with his father's baritone grumble that Emerson and I both burst out laughing. Ramses contemplated us haughtily down the length of his nose. "I fail to see the humor in the situation," he said.

"You are quite right, my boy," said Emerson, smiling. "I suppose we must agree to disagree. Time will tell which of us is correct."

"If we are not all wrong," I said more seriously. "I cannot get it out of my head, Emerson-your reminder that the G.o.d Set was red-haired. But I will wager that I am the first to come face to face with his evil emissary."

"You had d.a.m.ned well better not be," said Emerson, and refused to apologize, even though he had promised me he would try not to swear in front of Ramses.

When we entered the lobby of Shepheard's, the first person we saw was Enid. She sat reading a newspaper, apparently oblivious to the curious stares and whispers of the other guests, but the moment we appeared she jumped up and hastened to meet us.

"You came," she whispered, seizing my hand. "I was afraid you would not. Thank you, thank you!"

"I said I would come," I replied. "When I say I will do something, Enid, you may be certain I will do it."

Ramses studied her from under lowered brows; and indeed she little resembled the demure archaeologist of Dahshoor. She was wearing an extravagantly frivolous gown, all ruffles and puffs and lace, and her lips and cheeks were rouged. I daresay she wore no more paint than usual, but owing to the pallor of her face, the red patches stood out with garish effect. than usual, but owing to the pallor of her face, the red patches stood out with garish effect.

Retaining her tight grasp on my hand, she reached out her other hand to Ramses. "Don't you know your old friend in this costume?" she asked, with a brave attempt at a smile.

"I hope you do not suppose that a superficial alteration of that nature could deceive my trained eye," Ramses replied in evident chagrin. "I was merely endeavoring to decide whether I prefer this persona to the other. On the whole-"

It had taken only a few days to teach Enid that if someone did not interrupt Ramses, he would go on talking indefinitely. "No matter what my outward appearance, Ramses, my feelings will never change. I am your true friend, and I hope I may consider you mine."

Ramses was moved. A casual observer might not have realized it, for the only outward expression of his feelings was a rapid blink of his eyelids. He replied in his most dignified manner, "Thank you. You may indeed rely upon my friendship, and if at any time in the future you have need of my services, they are at your disposal, although I sincerely trust that you will never regret your decision to accept the hand of a person who, though not entirely devoid of admirable qualities, is not-"

I suppressed Ramses. At least he had made Enid smile; turning to me, she said, "Perhaps you think me bold to sit here in full view of all the gossips. But I will not skulk in my room as if I had done something to be ashamed of. Donald and I are victims, not villains."

"I am entirely of your opinion," I replied warmly. "Mr. Baehler gave you your rooms back? I was concerned about that, since it is the height of the season, and Shepheard's is always crowded."

"I had booked them for a month and paid in advance. Besides," Enid added, with a wry smile, "I imagine he would have difficulty finding someone who was willing to inhabit them just now. I confess I do not look forward to sleeping in that bed. If you are remaining in Cairo for a few days, perhaps Ramses-"

"I would be more than happy," declared Ramses.

I exchanged glances with Emerson. "We will think about it, Enid. In the meantime-"

"In the meantime, I hope you will be my guests for luncheon," Enid said. "I have not quite enough courage to walk into the dining salon alone."

Naturally we agreed. I excused myself long enough to retrieve and destroy the letter I had left for Emerson the day before, and then joined the others. We had hardly taken our seats when Mr. Baehler came to the table. He apologized for disturbing our meal. "But this message was just left for you, and since it is marked 'Urgent,' I thought-"

"Ah," I said, reaching for the letter. "You were quite right to bring it at once, Mr. Baehler."

"It is directed to Professor Emerson," Baehler said.

"How extraordinary," I exclaimed.

"What do you mean, extraordinary?" Emerson demanded. "I have many acquaintances in Cairo who..." He perused the letter. "Extraordinary," he muttered.

Baehler departed, and Emerson handed me the letter. It was, as I had suspected, from Mr. Gregson. ' 'Professor," it read. "I will be at the Cafe Orientale at twelve noon sharp. Do not fail me. Matters are approaching a climax, and if you wish to avert the peril threatening a person near and dear to you, you must hear what I have learned."

"I knew it," I said triumphantly. "That proves you are mistaken, Ramses; if Mr. Gregson had any designs on me, he would not invite your father to be present. We must go at once; it is almost twelve." are mistaken, Ramses; if Mr. Gregson had any designs on me, he would not invite your father to be present. We must go at once; it is almost twelve."

Emerson pressed me back into my chair. "You are not mentioned in the invitation, Amelia," he said.

"But, Emerson-"

"It is a trap," squeaked Ramses. "There is some diabolical mystery in this; I beg you, Mama-"

"Please, Amelia, don't leave me." Enid added her entreaties to those of the others. "I had counted on your support later this afternoon, when I go to police headquarters to give my statement."

"I tell you, Mama, it is a trap," Ramses insisted.

"If it is, I am forewarned and shall be forearmed," Emerson declared. "Amelia, you must guard Miss Debenham. She will be especially vulnerable when she leaves the hotel. This could be a ruse, to lure us away and leave her unprotected."

"I had not thought of that," I admitted. "Very well, Emerson; your argument has convinced me."

"I thought it might," Emerson said, rising.

"Don't go alone, Emerson," I begged.

"Of course not. Ramses will go with me."

That was not what I had had in mind, but before I could say so, Ramses and his father had left us.

"I would feel very bad if I thought my selfish needs had caused you to neglect a more important duty," Enid said anxiously. "Do you believe they are going into danger?"

"No. Were that the case, I am afraid I would choose to neglect you instead. For you know, Enid, that my dear Emerson and I are joined by bonds of affection of the strongest kind. I would be the first to rush to his side if peril threatened him."

"Or Ramses."

"Oh yes, or Ramses, of course. The fact that I can sit here and quietly sip my soup"-which I proceeded to do, the waiter having brought the first course as we conversed-"testifies to my perfect confidence in Mr. Gregson. Just think, Enid, when Emerson returns he may have in his possession the evidence that will clear Donald."

Enid's eager questions prompted me to explain more fully about Mr. Gregson's involvement in the case. She had not heard the full story, and as she listened she began to look grave.

"Of course I am only an ignorant girl, with little experience in such things," she said hesitantly. "But I have never heard of this Mr. Gregson. He said he was a famous detective?"

"Famous in his own circles, I presume he meant," I replied. "People in that line of work have reason to remain inconspicuous."

"No doubt that is true," Enid said.

The dining salon was filling rapidly. We had been among the first ones there, since Enid's appointment with the police was for one o'clock. I watched the entering guests, wondering if "Mrs. Axhammer" would dare to make an appearance. She did not, but before long I saw another familiar form-that of Viscount Everly. He was alone, and for the first time since I had met him he was wearing proper morning dress instead of a bizarre costume. His eyes met mine, and after a moment of hesitation, he squared his shoulders and approached.

"Er-" he began.

"Don't dither, young man," I said. "If you have any sensible remark to make, make it."

"Well, ma'am, it's deuced difficult to do that with you looking at a chap as if he'd stolen your handbag," said the viscount plaintively. "It puts a chap off, you know." said the viscount plaintively. "It puts a chap off, you know."

"I am attempting, your lordship, to ascertain the color of your eyes."

The young man shied back, but not before I had discovered what I wanted to know. His eyes were an indeterminate shade of muddy brownish-gray, with flecks of green___It would have been hard to say what color of green___It would have been hard to say what color they were, but at least I was certain they were not black. they were, but at least I was certain they were not black.

Enid stared at me in bewilderment, but I did not explain. I must confess I sometimes enjoy little mystifications of that nature. "Sit down, your lordship," I said. "I presume you wish to offer your condolences to Miss Debenham on the death of her kinsman?"

"He said he was her affianced husband," said Everly, taking a chair.

"He was mistaken," Enid said shortly.

"Well, er-in any case-deuced sorry, you know. He was a fine chap-splendid shot-held his whiskey. ... No, forget that."

"Had you known him long?" I asked.

"Never met the fellow before I came to Cairo. Seemed a good sort. Ran into him at the Turf Club."

"And how did you know he was dead?"

I meant to catch him off guard, but he replied with prompt and ingenuous candor. "Why, it's all over the city, you know. And besides, I was the one who told Gorst yesterday that he was missing and that I feared foul play."

"You!" I exclaimed.

"Why, yes." The viscount leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table, pulling the cloth askew and setting my winegla.s.s rocking. He caught it before more than a few drops had spilled. "See that?" he exclaimed proudly. "Quick as a conjurer! What was I talking about?"

"You informed the police yesterday ..."

"Oh, right. It was last evening that he disappeared, you see. Smack out of his room at Mena House, while we were waiting for him to join us for dinner. Sent a waiter up to fetch him when he didn't turn up; room in a shambles, tables overturned, drawers pulled out- deuced exciting! Well, it was sure there'd been a struggle, and he didn't come back, and ... I happened to run into Sir Eldon later, and mentioned it to him. Thought it was the least I could do."

As I listened to his semi-coherent statement and studied his lax, undistinguished features, I could not imagine what had prompted Emerson to suspect him of being a genius of crime. Nor could Emerson accuse me of being careless and taking foolish chances in speaking with him; for what could even a desperate and brilliant criminal do to me in a crowded dining salon in the most popular hotel in Cairo?

I was soon to find out.

There were no preliminary warning symptoms, such as giddiness or nausea. The only thing I remember is seeing his lordship, still seated in his chair, suddenly rush away from me at the speed of an express train, until he was no larger than a b.u.mblebee. I felt my chin strike the table and felt nothing more.

I dreamed the same strange dream. Every detail matched the first-the soft couch on which I reclined, the walls draped with rosy silk, the marble floor, the tinkling fountain. Knowing I would soon wake at Emerson's side, I lay in drowsy content enjoying the voluptuous beauty of my surroundings. The ceiling above me was swathed in folds of soft fabric like the roof of a sultan's tent; from it hung silver lamps that shed a soft and tender light upon the scene. Lazily I turned my head. It was there, just as I had seen it before-the low table of ebony and mother-of-pearl, the bowl filled with oranges and nectarines, grapes and plums. Only the wine decanter and crystal goblets were missing. swathed in folds of soft fabric like the roof of a sultan's tent; from it hung silver lamps that shed a soft and tender light upon the scene. Lazily I turned my head. It was there, just as I had seen it before-the low table of ebony and mother-of-pearl, the bowl filled with oranges and nectarines, grapes and plums. Only the wine decanter and crystal goblets were missing.