The Snake, The Crocodile, And The Dog Part 21

He picked up the needle and plunged it into a bottle. The whisper came again.

"You use too much. He will die."

"Not until it suits my purpose," was the calloused response. "Now get back. He'll come round before long."

I forced myself to watch and remain pa.s.sive. The needle went into a vein, with a careless skill that suggested some medical expertise. I made a note of this, even while my skin crawled with loathing and hatred. Whatever the substance was, it was effective. Moments later Emerson stirred. His first word was a feeble but heartfelt oath. Tears came to my eyes, and I promised myself I would never again complain of any language he chose to employ.

His adversary laughed. "Awake, are we? Another word or two, if you please, I want to be certain you are able to appreciate the treat I have for you."

Emerson obliged with a pithy description of his captor's presumed parentage. The fellow laughed again.

"Excellent. I presume you are still unwilling to admit me to your confidence?"

"Your conversation has become tedious," said Emerson. "How many times must I repeat that I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about? Even if I were able to supply the information you want I would not, I have taken a dislike to you."

"Give up any hope of rescue." The other man's voice hardened. His toe nudged the square object, which I now saw to be a wooden hatch or cover. "Have you also forgotten what lies beneath this?"

"Again you repeat yourself," was the bored reply "I don't know where you get these melodramatic notions. Out of some novel, I suppose."

This comment seemed to madden the villain. He darted forward, for a moment I thought he would strike his helpless prisoner. Mastering himself with an effort that made his upraised hand quiver, he hissed, "The well is at least forty feet deep. If anyone attempts to force his way in here, the guard will see that you have the opportunity to measure its precise depth."

"Yes, yes, you said that." Emerson yawned.

"Very well. Let us see if I have found a means of persuading you to change your mind."

Leaving the lamp on the table, he went to the door. Emerson's eyes followed him, the pupils were so dilated they looked black instead of blue. After a moment the door opened again and the man entered, pushing a slighter form before him.

She would have deceived ME. The costume she wore was an exact copy of my old working uniform- Turkish trousers, boots, and all- even a belt hung with tools. Her hair was the same jet-black, it tumbled over her shoulders, as if it had been loosened in a struggle. Her supposed captor's arm pinned hers to her sides and held her back out of the light, so that her features would have been hard to make out even if a white cloth had not covered the lower part of her face.

"A visitor to see you, sir," said the unknown, in a mocking parody of a butler's announcement. "Haven't you an affectionate greeting for your wife?"

Emerson's face was impa.s.sive. Only his eyes moved, from the top of the woman's head to her boots, and back again. "She does appear to be female," he said, in an offensive drawl. "Hard to tell at first, in that outlandish garb . . ."

"You claim you don't recognize your own wife?"

"I don't have a wife," Emerson said patiently. "I seem to have forgotten a good many things, but of that I am certain."

"You contradict yourself, Professor. How can you be certain if you claim to be suffering from amnesia?"

A gasp of laughter came from Emerson's cracked lips. "Whatever else may have slipped my mind, I could hardly forget something so monumentally stupid. Never in my weakest moment would I be d.a.m.ned fool enough to saddle myself with a wife." Narrowing his eyes, he went on, "Is she, by any chance, the female who brought me food and water yesterday ... or the day before . . . can't remember . . ."

His eyes closed. The woman had bowed her head-in shame, I hoped. The man who held her loosened his grasp. She shrank back against the wall and pulled the gag from her face.

"He is fainting," she whispered. "Let me give him something-water, at least . . ."

Fists on his hips, the villain studied her with a sardonic smile. " 'O Woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please . . . When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!

I Minister, then. If he dies before I can get that d.a.m.ned woman into my hands I'll have no means of persuading her to talk." He turned to the door, adding, over his shoulder, "Don't be long."

She waited until the door had slammed before relaxing. A long sigh issued from her lips.

"I have never understood the female s.e.x," said a voice from the bed. "Why do you tolerate such treatment?"

She spun around to face him. "You are awake? I thought so. You only pretended. . ."

"Not . . . entirely," said Emerson.

She knelt by the bed, holding a cup of water to his lips and supporting his head while he drank thirstily. He thanked her, in a stronger voice. She lowered his head gently onto the hard mattress and stared at her stained fingers.

"It will not heal," she murmured. "Does it pain you?"

"I have the devil of a headache," Emerson admitted.

"And your poor hands . . ." Her fingers slid slowly up his right arm and touched the swollen, b.l.o.o.d.y flesh of his wrist.

"It would be pleasant to stretch a bit." His voice had changed. I knew that purring note, and a shiver ran through me. I dislike, even now, admitting the emotion that prompted it. I believe it is not necessary for me to do so.

Emerson went on, in the same tone, "If my arms were free I could better express the appreciation I feel for your kindness."

She let out a little laugh, in which coquetry and defiance were mingled. "Well, why not? You cannot pa.s.s the guards, you are not strong enough, and if you think you can win freedom by holding me hostage you deceive yourself. No English gentleman would harm a woman. He knows that."

The key to his manacles were on the table. I appreciated the refinement of cruelty that left freedom in sight, but unattainable. As she bent over him to unlock them a tress of her hair brushed his face.

Well! I would like to believe I could have held firm, even in the face of what was obviously about to transpire, but I had seized the edge of the grille with both hands and my muscles were tensed, when there was an outcry from the direction of the house. Voices shouting, the rattle of gunfire! My faithful Abdullah and his valiant friends had arrived! Rescue was at hand! The time for action had come!

One heave of my shoulders pushed the grille aside. I inserted my feet into the opening and.. and stuck, at a region I prefer not to specify. There was not a moment to lose, gritting my teeth, I squeezed myself through, landing with bent knees, upright and ready. Pulling out my pistol, I leveled it at the door.

In the nick of time! And I might not have been in time, owing to that moment of delay, had she not flung herself at the yielding door. Her strength was not great enough, even as I aimed my pistol she was crushed behind the opened panel. The sounds of combat rose in pitch and a dark form rushed in, intent on obeying his leader's dastardly command

There was no time for a reasonable discussion I fired I could hardly avoid hitting him, for his body filled the doorway, but the wound was not mortal, his cry, as he recoiled, held more surprise than pain. Curse it, I thought, and fired again. I believe I missed him entirely on that occasion. However, the effect was gratifying. With another howl, he fled. These hired thugs are never reliable

I now turned my attention to the woman, who had emerged from behind the door and stood watching me It gave me an odd sensation to see her-the shadowy image of myself.

Emerson had swung his feet to the floor and sat up. Further effort was obviously beyond him, his face was ashen and his arms hung awkwardly at his sides. The very act of moving them must have been unutterably painful. He looked from me to the woman at the door and back to me, but he did not speak.

"Let me go," she whispered. "If your people catch me I will go to prison . . . or worse . . . Please, Sitt!

I have tried to help him."

"Go, then," I said. "Close the door after you." With one last, flashing look at Emerson, she obeyed.

Then, at last, at last, I could go where I yearned to go. I rushed to his side and knelt beside him.

Emotion stifled breath and speech.

He stared blankly at me, a faint frown furrowing his brow. "One female in trousers is confusing enough, but two is a bit much for a man in my condition. If you will excuse me, madam, I believe I will take advantage of my freedom from restraint to ... Oh, d.a.m.nation!"

It was his last word, a bitter acknowledgment of his inability to do as he had planned. He fell to his knees and collapsed face-down onto the floor.

I was too numbed by shock to prevent it The pistol dropped from my nerveless hand. But I was holding it leveled at the door, and cradling Emerson's unconscious head in the other arm, when Abdullah's shout informed me that our saviors had arrived. He burst through the door and stopped short, horror replacing the triumph on his face "You weep, Sitt! Allah be merciful-he is not . . ."

"No, Abdullah, no. It is worse than that! Oh, Abdullah-he does not know me!"