Lion In The Valley Part 8

He had not shaved that morning, nor used a comb and brush on his tumbled golden locks. (In fact, so far as I knew, he did not have a comb or brush.) The effects of the drug showed in his shrunken pupils and pale cheeks. But months of degradation had not eradicated all traces of the splendid young Englishman (or Scot) he had once been. Shaved and brushed, dressed in a proper suit, he would turn any woman's head.

"No, Mr. Nemo, you are not," I said.

His lips twisted. "How do you propose to stop me?"

"By force, if necessary." I leaned against the wall and folded my arms. "A shout from me would bring ten st.u.r.dy men who are sworn to obey my slightest command. I do not include Emerson, since, although his strength and devotion exceed all the others, he is rather disoriented when he is suddenly roused from sleep, and you might well elude him before he gets his wits in order. I doubt, however, that you could fight off Abdullah and his sons. No," I went on calmly, as he took a step toward me, his fists clenched. "Don't try to intimidate me, for I know you are incapable of laying violent hands on a woman.

"You are not leaving my employ, Mr. Nemo. What- do you suppose that, having once placed my shoulder to the wheel and my nose to the grindstone, I will leave the furrow unplowed? I have sworn to redeem you and redeem you I will, with your cooperation or without it. In principle, I am in full sympathy with the right of every Englishman-or woman-or, come to that, any man or woman of any nation ... What was I about to say?"

Nemo's frown had been replaced by a blank, almost imbecile stare. "I haven't the slightest idea," he mumbled. imbecile stare. "I haven't the slightest idea," he mumbled.

"Oh, yes. I believe firmly in the right of the individual to seek or leave employment whenever he or she chooses. Any infringement of that choice const.i.tutes serfdom, and liberty is the inalienable right of humankind. However, in this case your right to liberty must be laid aside temporarily in favor of a higher good.

"Having made that plain, Mr. Nemo, I will proceed to the next point. Pay close attention, if you please. My determination to lift you out of the gutter was reinforced last night when I discovered you in the loathsome clutches of the devil's weed. It is not what you think," I went on, more gently, as he turned his head away, a flush of shame mantling his bristled cheeks. "That discovery proved to me that I had been mistaken in another, more important a.s.sumption. I am not often mistaken. In this case there was some excuse for me, since the circ.u.mstances were suspicious in the extreme.

"I knew full well that the man whose confederate I suspected you of being would never choose as a trusted aide any man whose loyalty or efficiency could be weakened by opium. You had said you were addicted, but in fact I had never seen you indulging in drugs. It makes a neat syllogism, you see. You are, as I know firsthand, a user of drugs. The Master Criminal does not admit drug addicts into his inner circle. (I make that a.s.sumption because only a fool would commit that error, and the Master Criminal is not a fool.) Therefore you are not-"

"The-who?" Nemo stammered.

"The Master Criminal. The mysterious individual who controls the illicit antiquities trade in Egypt. Don't tell me that during your sojourn in the underworld of Cairo you never heard of him."

"A beggar and drag addict is not taken into the confidence of a professional criminal," Nemo said thoughtfully. "But what you say is true; there is such a man. I have heard rumors of him. It was-er-the name you used that surprised me. I certainly never heard him called that."

"He has a name, then? What is it?"

"He has no name, only a variety of appellations. Those in his employ, I believe, refer to him as the Master. To others, less intimately a.s.sociated with him, he is known as Sethos."

"Sethos! A curious name. You know nothing more?"

Nemo shook his head. "The men who work for the Master are the cream of the criminal crop. To be chosen by him is a mark of honor. Even those who are not in his employ are in deadly terror of him, and it is said that his revenge on a traitor is swift and horrible."

"Fascinating," I exclaimed. "I am deeply indebted to you for the information, Mr. Nemo. Please forgive me for suspecting you. Though it now appears I was, in a sense, paying you a compliment!"

Nemo did not return my smile. "You owe me no apology. What you have told me changes nothing, Mrs. Emerson. You are right, I would not touch a hair of your head, and your men could certainly overcome me; but you will have to bind me or imprison me to keep me here. I must and will go."

"I understand, Mr. Nemo. I know what has moved you to this decision. It is the arrival of the young lady."

Nemo's tanned cheeks paled. "You-you-"

"Looking from the window last night you saw her," I went on. "A flower of English womanhood, with the grace and charm that achieves its fullest perfection in our favored nation. Seeing her must have reminded you of your shame and of what you have lost."

Nemo raised a trembling hand to his brow. "You are a witch, Mrs. Emerson!"

"No, Mr. Nemo; only a woman, with a woman's heart. Our intellectual powers, never doubt it, are fully equal to those of the so-called stronger s.e.x, but we have a greater understanding of the human heart. It was a woman who brought you to this, was it not?"

A m.u.f.fled voice from the house interrupted the conversation at this interesting juncture. I took my watch from my pocket and inspected it. "Time is pa.s.sing, Mr. Nemo. I must be about my business. We will discuss your situation at a future time. Until then I count on you to remain. The young lady will keep to her room today. You won't have to face her until I have spruced you up a bit and decided on a story to tell her. Have I your word not to run away?"

"You would take my word?" Nemo asked incredulously. "After I broke it?"

"You did not break it. You said you would try not to succ.u.mb." Another, more irate shout from within reminded me of my duties. "I must be off. I am going to Cairo today. I will see you this evening."

Nemo shrugged. "Until tonight, then. Beyond that-"

"That will do. Yes, Emerson. I am here; I am coming."

I hastened within.

When I set out shortly after breakfast, it was with the serene consciousness that I had dealt with all the outstanding emergencies. Enid had been warned that she must pretend weakness and keep to her room. We dared not risk her exposing her ignorance of archaeology, which would certainly occur within five minutes of her appearance at the dig. Mr. Nemo had been measured for a suit of clothes and sent off, with Ramses, to supervise the excavation of the causeway. Emerson had been soothed and fed and encouraged by my solemn promise that our bed that night would be under the open sky and the brilliant stars of the desert. (To be sure, a canvas roof would intervene between us and the open sky, brilliant stars, et cetera, but Emerson is particularly susceptible to poetic expressions of that nature. And I confess that I was myself peculiarly stimulated by the image thus evoked.) the excavation of the causeway. Emerson had been soothed and fed and encouraged by my solemn promise that our bed that night would be under the open sky and the brilliant stars of the desert. (To be sure, a canvas roof would intervene between us and the open sky, brilliant stars, et cetera, but Emerson is particularly susceptible to poetic expressions of that nature. And I confess that I was myself peculiarly stimulated by the image thus evoked.) I had sent Abdullah to hire a horse from the mayor of the village. It was the finest steed in the neighborhood, a charming little brown mare that was reported to be the apple of the sheikh's eye. Certainly the cost of her hire bore this out, as did her shining coat and the confidence with which she greeted me. I quite fell in love with her myself. Her high spirits matched my own; when she broke into a gallop I made no effort to restrain her, but abandoned myself to the joys of speed. I felt like one of the heroes of Anthony Hope or Rider Haggard, dashing to the rescue. (Their heroines, poor silly things, never did anything but sit wringing their hands waiting to be rescued.) It seemed only a few moments before I saw the first of the monuments of Sakkara. Some energetic specimens of the tourist breed were already there, for next to Giza, Sakkara is the most popular excursion in the Cairo region. One of the guides told me where the archaeologists were working, and I was pleased to find Mr. Quibell on his feet, notebook in hand, copying inscriptions. After I had lectured him on the impropriety of standing in the hot sun too long, following his indisposition, I asked after the young ladies.

Quibell replied, with proper expressions of grat.i.tude, that, thanks to my a.s.sistance, all were recovering. They expected to finish their work at Sakkara within a day or two, after which they would join Petrie at Thebes. Miss Pirie had particularly asked him to express her thanks to me, if he should be fortunate enough to see me before they left. (Again the young man's blush, as he mentioned the young lady's name, told me she would not long retain it, if he had his way in the matter.) two, after which they would join Petrie at Thebes. Miss Pirie had particularly asked him to express her thanks to me, if he should be fortunate enough to see me before they left. (Again the young man's blush, as he mentioned the young lady's name, told me she would not long retain it, if he had his way in the matter.) I was relieved to hear of their imminent departure, and pleased that I had had the foresight to stop by in order to receive Quibell's thanks, for otherwise he might have felt obliged to visit us again, and this would certainly have spelled disaster for Enid. I offered, in duty bound, to examine the ladies; Quibell a.s.sured me, with touching sincerity, that there was no need. Since I had a long ride ahead, I did not insist.

We parted with the friendliest compliments, and I proceeded northward to Giza, where I left the horse at Mena House and hired a carriage for the trip to Cairo. After completing my shopping, I arrived at Shepheard's in time for a late luncheon, which I felt was well deserved.

Not that this pause in the day's occupations was purely for sustenance and recreation-no, indeed. My princ.i.p.al errand in Cairo was yet to be accomplished, and as the first step, I needed to find out what the informed public knew about the murder. Even before ordering my repast, therefore, I told the waiter to ask Mr. Baehler to join me, at his convenience, of course.

The dining room filled rapidly and I amused myself by watching the tourists. They were a variegated group-stout German scholars and smart English officers, shrill American ladies and giggling girls in the custody of sharp-eyed mamas. At a nearby table was a group of young Englishmen, and from the number of "your lordships" and "my lords" that sprinkled their conversation, it was not difficult to deduce that the pale, effeminate-looking young man to whom the others deferred was a sprig of the aristocracy. Their clothing was a bizarre combination of fine English tailoring and local costumery-a striped silk effeminate-looking young man to whom the others deferred was a sprig of the aristocracy. Their clothing was a bizarre combination of fine English tailoring and local costumery-a striped silk sudeyree, sudeyree, or vest, with riding breeches, or a gold-embroidered or vest, with riding breeches, or a gold-embroidered aba aba over a tweed shooting suit. None of them had removed their fantastic headgear-turbans of cashmere and white silk shawls, or ta.s.seled tarbooshes-and several were puffing cigars, though there were ladies present. over a tweed shooting suit. None of them had removed their fantastic headgear-turbans of cashmere and white silk shawls, or ta.s.seled tarbooshes-and several were puffing cigars, though there were ladies present.

I was ashamed to share their nationality, but after they had swaggered out I was able to console myself with the thought that bad manners are not restricted to any one country; not long afterwards an elderly American lady entered the dining room, and her strident voice and loud complaints turned all eyes toward her. She was attended by a plain, timid female, apparently a maid or companion, and by a young man whose arm she held more in the manner of a prison guard than a frail woman requiring a.s.sistance. She was tall and heavy-set, and her voluminous black gown and veils were many years out of date. Her antique bonnet was trimmed with tiny jet beads; with each ponderous step a little shower of them fell, rattling like sleet on the floor.

From the celerity with which the headwaiter approached her I decided she must be very rich or very distinguished. He got short shrift for his pains; the old lady rejected the first table she was offered, demanding one nearer the window-which also happened to be nearer to me. She then criticized the cleanliness of the silverware, the temperature of the room, and the clumsiness of her attendants, all in tones that rang like a gong. Catching my eye, she shouted, "Yes, you agree with me, don't you, ma'am?"

I turned my back and applied myself to my soup, and to the book I had brought with me-the new translation of Herr Erman's delightful account of of Herr Erman's delightful account of Life in Ancient Egypt. Life in Ancient Egypt. Wandering through the barley fields with the happy peasants, I was soon so absorbed that Mr. Baehler had to touch me on the shoulder before I was aware of his presence. Wandering through the barley fields with the happy peasants, I was soon so absorbed that Mr. Baehler had to touch me on the shoulder before I was aware of his presence.

For once, conversation with this pleasant man, who usually knew all the gossip about Cairo's foreign community, proved to be a waste of time. He knew no more than I-less, in fact, for he informed me that Miss Debenham's whereabouts were unknown. Her fiance had arrived- "Her what?" I exclaimed.

I am sure my voice was not raised much above its normal pitch, but for some reason all conversation in the dining room happened to stop just at that moment. The elderly American lady shouted, "What is it, ma'am? What's the matter, eh?"

"Her affianced husband," Mr. Baehler said softly.

"I know what the word means, Mr. Baehler." I picked up my spoon, which I had dropped onto the table in the stress of the moment. "I was not aware that Miss Debenham was engaged to be married."

"Nor was I, until he came here looking for a room. Unfortunately, I was unable to accommodate him on such short notice. He said he had been hunting in the Sudan and, upon hearing the shocking news, had at once hastened to the lady's side."

"Only to find she had disappeared. He must be in great distress."

"No doubt," Baehler said expressionlessly.

"But that is a curious story, do you not think? First he leaves his affianced wife to disport herself alone in Cairo while he is amusing himself in the Sudan. Then he rushes to a.s.sist her-but surely not from the Sudan. It would take weeks for the news to reach an isolated camp, and for him to make the return journey." camp, and for him to make the return journey."

Baehler looked uncomfortable. "That had occurred to me, Mrs. Emerson. I can only a.s.sume the gentleman was on his way back, or had actually arrived in Cairo, when he learned of the murder."

"Humph. I must speak to him. Where is he staying?''

"I sent him to the D'Angleterre. Whether he was successful in obtaining accommodations there, I cannot say. And now, Mrs. Emerson, if you will excuse me-"

"Miss Debenham is not a murderess, Herr Baehler. And I intend to prove it."

Baehler, who had risen to his feet, took the hand I extended and raised it gallantly to his lips. "Mrs. Emerson, if you set out to prove the sun rises in the west, you could certainly convince me. I must return to my duties now. My respectful compliments to your distinguished husband and to Master Ramses."

After he had left the room, I thought of several questions I had meant to ask, including the name of the man who called himself Miss Debenham's fiance. However, upon further consideration, I decided I had better ask Miss Debenham herself-and ascertain as well why she had deceived me. The young lady had a good deal of explaining to do if she wished to retain my good will.

I gathered up my parcels, my parasol, and my handbag. As I was leaving, the old American lady shouted, "Good day to you, ma'am. It has been a pleasure talking with you." Realizing that she must be a trifle senile, I gave her a pleasant smile and waved my parasol.

Once outside the hotel, I bargained for a carriage and had just got in when one of the vendors accosted me. "Flowers for the lady," he cried, thrusting a bouquet into my hands.

"I don't want flowers," I said in Arabic.

"They are for you, sitt," the fellow insisted. "You are the Sitt Hakim, wife to Emerson Effendi? Yes, yes, I know you; a gentleman told me to give these to you." are the Sitt Hakim, wife to Emerson Effendi? Yes, yes, I know you; a gentleman told me to give these to you."

The nosegay was a charming ensemble of red rosebuds and fragrant mimosa, framed in green leaves and tied with a silk bow. The flower seller bowed and retreated without even waiting for the usual tip, so I had no choice but to keep the flowers, which I was not reluctant to do, for I have a particular fondness for roses of that shade. I decided they must have come from Mr. Baehler-a token of friendly esteem, and an apology for his somewhat abrupt departure. It was the sort of gesture a gentleman of his refined courtesy might make.

The carriage bore me swiftly to my destination, the Administration Building on the Place Bab el-Khalk. Until recently the constabulary of Cairo had been under the benevolent supervision of a British Inspector General. It was still under British supervision; only the t.i.tle of the administrator had been changed, to that of Adviser. Sir Eldon Gorst, who was a personal acquaintance, held the position; but when I asked for him I was told he was not in his office, and I was referred to one of the officers on his staff.

It was with some chagrin that I found myself in the presence of Major Ramsay, the least intelligent and most unsympathetic of Sir Eldon's subordinates. On the occasion of our last meeting, at a social gathering at the Consulate, I had taken the opportunity of correcting some of his ill-informed opinions on the subject of women, their rightful position in society, and the unjust laws that prevented them from a.s.suming that position. I would never accuse a British officer of rudeness, but Major Ramsay's responses had come as close to that condition as a British officer could come; and toward the end of the discussion Emerson had said something about punching someone in the jaw. It was only one of Emerson's little jokes, but Major Ramsay had no sense of humor. I was sorry to see, from the unsmiling curtness of his greeting, that he still harbored a grudge. Emerson's little jokes, but Major Ramsay had no sense of humor. I was sorry to see, from the unsmiling curtness of his greeting, that he still harbored a grudge.

I explained the reason for my visit. Ramsay looked at me severely. "I had a.s.sumed you came in order to correct or amend the statement you originally made to the officer in charge of the investigation, Mrs. Emerson. Surely you know I cannot discuss the conduct of a police inquiry with a member of the general public."

I settled myself more comfortably in the hard chair and placed my parasol across my lap. "Oh, yes, Major Ramsay, that is an admirable rule so far as it goes, but it does not apply to me. me. Professor Emerson and I can hardly be called members of the public, much less the general public." Professor Emerson and I can hardly be called members of the public, much less the general public."

"You-" Ramsay began.

"I am certain that by now you have reached the same conclusion that was immediately apparent to me; namely, that Miss Debenham is innocent. Have you any other suspects?"

Ramsay bit his lip. His long, melancholy countenance was incapable of expressing subtle alterations in the intellectual process (a.s.suming he had an intellectual process), but it was not difficult for me to follow his thoughts. He disliked telling me anything substantive, but hoped that by doing so he could gain information.

The latter motive triumphed over the former. Pursing his lips, as if he had tasted something sour, he said, "We are looking for a man to a.s.sist us with our inquiries. An Egyptian-a beggar, in fact. Perhaps you noticed him outside Shepheard's."

An unpleasant premonition crept over me. Naturally I did not display any sign of perturbation, for my my countenance only expresses my intellectual process when I allow it to do so. countenance only expresses my intellectual process when I allow it to do so.

"A beggar," I repeated, smiling ironically. "I noticed several dozen of them."

"Taller than the average, st.u.r.dily built; wearing a pale-blue robe and a saffron turban."

"I can't say I recall such an individual. Why do you suspect him?"

"I didn't say we suspected him, only that we wish to question him."

And that, dear Reader, was all I was able to learn. Ramsay absolutely refused to elaborate or add to his statement.

Once outside the building, I found myself in a rare state of indecision. I was tempted to call on Sir Evelyn Baring, the Consul General, and request his cooperation, which I surely would have received, since we were old friends. But the afternoon was wearing on, and I had wasted too much time with the imbecile Ramsay. I would have enjoyed a delightful ride home under the desert moon, but I knew Emerson would fly into a rage if I did not return by sunset. Emerson is completely fearless where his own safety is concerned, but the mere thought of danger to me reduces the dear fellow to a positive jelly.

As I stood debating with myself, I heard a voice p.r.o.nounce my name in questioning accents. Turning, I found myself face to face with a stranger. ' 'Face to cravat" would be more accurate, for the man was eight or ten inches taller than I. Stepping back in order to see his face, I beheld a lean, hawk-nosed countenance atop a wiry body dressed rather oddly, for that climate, in a caped tweed coat. Tinted spectacles protected his eyes from the glaring sun. In his hand he held a matching tweed cap.

"I am Mrs. Emerson," I acknowledged.

His thin lips parted in a pleasant smile. "I recognized you from the portraits which have appeared at various times in the newspapers. Though, if I may say so, they did not do you justice." you from the portraits which have appeared at various times in the newspapers. Though, if I may say so, they did not do you justice."

"Newspaper photographs seldom do. Perhaps I have seen your features similarly reproduced. They seem familiar to me, Mr.-?"

"Gregson. Tobias Gregson. Yes, I have been featured in the popular press from time to time. I am a private investigator-a well-known private investigator, to quote the same source."

"That must account for it. What cases have you investigated, Mr. Gregson?"

"Many of my cases are of the most secret nature, involving sensitive family scandals or delicate government negotiations. However, you may recall the matter of the Amateur Mendicant Society? Or the Camberwell poisoning case?"

"I can't say that I do."

"No matter. I don't want to detain you, Mrs. Emerson; I ventured to address you only because I believe you have an interest in my present investigation."

I looked at him more closely. "Have you been called in to a.s.sist the police in the murder of Kalenischeff?"

Gregson smiled contemptuously. "I am not on good terms with the official police, Mrs. Emerson. Professional jealousy ... But I will say no more. No, I happened to be in Egypt on another matter-a related matter, as it turned out. The case has its points of interest."

"It does. No doubt your long experience in criminal matters has already given you some hint as to the ident.i.ty of the guilty party."

"Obviously it was not Miss Debenham," Gregson said coolly.

"Obviously. But who?"

Gregson glanced from side to side and lowered his voice. "I am endeavoring to discover the whereabouts of a certain beggar who was seen hanging about the hotel on the night of the murder."

"Ah," I said, in equally mysterious tones. "A tall, well-built man wearing a yellow turban?"

"I might have known the famous Mrs. Emerson would be on the same trail," said Gregson, with a look of respectful admiration.

"Not at all. I heard of him from Major Ramsay."

"Ramsay is an idiot. He doesn't know what you and I know." "

"And what is that, Mr. Gregson?"

"That the beggar is not a beggar at all, but an emissary of that genius of crime, that master of deceit-"

"What?" I cried. "How do you know of him?" him?"

"I have my methods, Mrs. Emerson. Suffice it to say that I do know of this enigmatic personage, to whom you referred, in a newspaper interview, as the Master Criminal. I have set myself the task of tracking him down."

"I have set myself the same task, Mr. Gregson."

"We must confer, Mrs. Emerson."

"I would like you to meet my husband, Mr. Gregson."

"I-I beg your pardon?"

I smiled, and explained the apparent non sequitur. "I was not changing the subject, Mr. Gregson. Emerson and I are equal partners, in our criminal investigations as in our professional and marital activities; perhaps you can convince him, as I have not yet succeeded in doing, that capturing the Master Criminal is a matter of paramount importance."

"I see. I will, of course, be honored to meet Professor Emerson."