The Snake, The Crocodile, And The Dog Part 44

It might have been the sunset glow that softened the young journalist's features, but his voice was equally subdued as he said, "That must be the unkindest cut of all, ma'am. How he could forget a woman like yourself- "

"I do not want your sympathy, Kevin. I want- I insist upon- your cooperation."

"You have it, Mrs. . . . Miss Peabody. I suppose you have no objection to my chatting with the others- Abdullah, for instance? After all," he added winsomely, "if I am supposed to be a detective I ought to question people."

The point was well taken. Now that it was too late, I wished I had thought of a different persona for Kevin- that of an illiterate deaf-mute, for instance. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!" Taking my baffled silence for consent, Kevin wandered off, hands in his pockets, a cheerful whistle issuing from his lips, and I considered this latest tangle and whither it might lead.

Kevin already knew the one fact I had been most anxious to keep from him. He seemed still to be in ignorance of other equally important facts, and these I was determined to keep from him at all costs. Kevin would fall on the story of the Lost Oasis like a dog on a ripe, smelly bone, for it was just the sort of fantastic tale in which he specialized. The slightest hint would be enough to set him off, he would not bother to substantiate it, for fiction was as good as truth by the standards of his profession. Rapidly I ran through the list of persons present to rea.s.sure myself there was no danger of exposure from any of them

Emerson knew only what I had told him of the matter and he was not inclined to believe that. In any case, Kevin was the last person with whom he would have discussed the subject. Cyrus's discretion I did not doubt. Rene and Charles were unwitting, as was Abdullah. Bertha maintained her "master" had told her nothing. If she lied . . . well, then she had every reason to remain reticent on the subject. An admission of knowledge she claimed not to have would prove her false, and would betray the secret her master was no more anxious than we to have spread abroad.

My reasoning was irrefutable. Relieved of that anxiety (and would the others were so easily disposed of!) I went to have a look at my latest patient.

One of Cyrus's men stood on guard outside the shelter that had been set up for Mohammed. There was no need, the wretch was so full of laudanum he would not have roused if someone had set fire to his bed. I hated to waste my medical supplies on such a vile specimen, but he had been in acute pain and even if mercy had not tempered my wrath I could not have set his broken nose while he was writhing and screaming. His jaw, I thought, was only bruised, but since I could not be absolutely certain I had wound it round with bandages too.

He was a dreadful sight as he lay there on the pile of rugs. Not even Christian charity and the ethics of the profession of which I count myself a formally unqualified but able pract.i.tioner could have forced me to touch the ragged, flea-infested robe or bathe the filthy body. The cast I had applied to his nose jutted out like the grotesque beak of some mythical monster, coa.r.s.e black hairs bristled at odd angles from above and below the bandages covering most of the lower half of his face. A slit of white glistened under each eyelid. His mouth gaped open, displaying brown, rotting teeth. The light from my lantern cast shadows that intensified every ugly feature and made the open cavern of his mouth look like a black hole.

I took his pulse and listened to his breathing. There was nothing more I could do, only time, and a good deal of luck, would complete the cure. I prayed most sincerely for his recovery, but I am sorry to say that Christian charity had very little to do with that prayer.

When I emerged, dusk was far advanced, but the light of the lantern I carried showed a retreating form. The flutter of draperies betrayed her ident.i.ty, none of the men walked as she did. I had not heard her address the guard, so she must have turned away as soon as she realized I was within.

I hurried after her. "Bertha! Wait, I wish to speak with you. What were you doing there?"

Her posture was submissive- hands clasped, head bowed. In a low voice she said, "I would help you nurse the man, Sitt. There is not much I can do to show my grat.i.tude, but I am skilled at women's work."

It was as if she had deliberately cast off her European heritage. Voice, manner, speech were more and more Egyptian with every pa.s.sing day. Naturally I found this extremely irritating.

"There is no work a woman cannot do," I said. "We must have a little chat about that one day, Bertha. Just now you can help me best by continuing to search your memory. Anything you recall may be of importance, even if it seems meaningless to you."

"I am trying, Sitt," she murmured.

"And don't call me Sitt! Miss Peabody will do, if you cannot twist your tongue around my given name. Come away now. The injured man is in no need of services you can provide."

A little gasp of what sounded like amus.e.m.e.nt issued from her lips. It must have been a stifled cough, I concluded, for nothing I had said could have provoked laughter

By the time we a.s.sembled for the evening meal, Kevin had already ingratiated himself with Rene and Charlie. I did not know how he had managed it with Rene, but he had won Charlie's heart by professing a pa.s.sion for motor cars.

"They are the wave of the future," Kevin exclaimed enthusiastically. "Daimler's internal-combustion engine- "

"But have you seen the Panhard?" Charlie interrupted. "The sliding-gear transmission-"

They went on talking unintelligibly about things like clutches and gears, while Bertha hovered at Rene's shoulder and Emerson glowered impartially on all of us and I ... I looked at Emerson. It seemed to make him rather nervous, but I saw no reason why that should deter me.

He had hardly spoken to me since that thrilling encounter in the tomb, except when the loss of his temper over the advent of Kevin overcame his reticence. At first I had been a trifle discouraged by his apology and ensuing silence, I am something of a romantic myself, and I had hoped that that pa.s.sionate embrace would burst the bonds that held his memory in thrall. Schadenfreude had said it would not in fact, he had warned me, most vehemently, against applying any such procedure. Apparently the doctor had been correct.

However, as I thought back over the incident, I felt it offered some encouragement. It might be interpreted as marking a step forward in the relationship I was, according to the doctor's instructions, endeavoring to re-create. Annoyance had replaced Emerson's initial indifference, he was now sufficiently interested to follow after me and risk himself to save me. That he would have done the same for Abdullah or any of the other men I was prepared to admit, but no combination of relief and anger would have prompted him to behave to Abdullah as he had behaved to me.

However. The kiss might have meant less than I hoped. As I had good cause to know, Emerson is a hot-blooded individual. The mere proximity of a female who, if not irresistibly beautiful, has been regarded by some as worthy of admiration, might have been sufficient to inspire such a response in a man who was under considerable emotional stress.

Dare I admit the truth? I see no reason why I should not, since these journals will not be read by other eyes until I can find a publisher worthy of them (a more difficult procedure than I had believed) and then not until after considerable revision. I hoped and prayed Emerson's memory might be restored, but what I really wanted restored was his love for me, whether it came by recollection or by being forged anew. That marriage of true minds, based on mutual trust and respect (and on another kind of attraction whose importance I would be the last to deny) was all in all to me. By one means or another I meant to regain it, and I did not really care how it was achieved. It might be a little difficult to explain to a man who has just proposed marriage for, as he believes, the first time, that he already has an eleven-year-old son. It would be an even greater shock to receive the full impact of Ramses all at once, instead of getting used to him a little at a time. However, I could and would deal with greater difficulties than that, if only . . . So my emotions swung back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, now rising, now falling. So absorbed was I in my thoughts, and in contemplation of Emerson's splendid, scowling physiognomy, that I was unaware of Cyrus's approach until a gentle cough made me look up.

"A penny for your thoughts," he said. "Or whatever amount you ask; they must be distressing, to judge by your face."

"Only confusing," I said. "But I will straighten them out, Cyrus, never fear. Once Mohammed is able to speak, we may be on the way to a solution of our present difficulty. It is a pity his nose and mouth took the brunt of the blow."

Emerson, who had been openly eavesdropping, took this for another not-so-veiled criticism. Scowling even more fiercely, he rose and started to stalk away.

"Don't go far," I called. "Dinner will be served shortly."

There was no reply, not even a grunt.

"I have something that may cheer you up," Cyrus said. "My servant has been collecting the mail, as usual, he brought the most recent letters here this evening."

"All this way?" I took the packet he handed me. "Cyrus, you are the most thoughtful of men."

"Well, I figured you'd be keen to know what's going on back in jolly old England. I'm a little curious myself, so . ."

"Of course. I have no secrets from you, Cyrus. But I see dinner is ready, I will wait to read this particular epistle until afterward, I think Not only is it very bulky, but I fear it might spoil my appet.i.te."

From Cyrus's admiring look I could see he took this as a demonstration of British phlegm. In fact I had a cowardly reluctance to read Ramses's latest literary offering, which I expected would only tell me a number of distressing things I could do absolutely nothing about. If anything serious had occurred, Walter would have telegraphed.

So after a meal no one except Kevin seemed anxious to eat, we dispersed. Emerson had not joined us, I concluded he had dined with Abdullah and the others. At my invitation, Cyrus followed me to my tent.

There were two letters from Chalfont in the packet. I recognized Evelyn's dainty, precise handwriting on one, and decided to save it for a treat- or an antidote- after I had read Ramses's.

"Dearest Mama and Papa. I am sorry to tell you that Gargery is still not a hero. However, we have another heroine.

"I never thought Aunt Evelyn had it in her. It has been a salutary if humbling experience for me and will teach me, I hope, to Question even more rigorously the false stereotypes our society holds about the behavior and character of females. I had always believed myself free of such prejudices and certainly I ought to have been, with Mama's example of abnormality always before me. How curiously the human mind operates! It seems to be able to dismiss any evidence that conflicts, not only with its own desires, but with preconceived beliefs so deeply seated and unconsciously instilled that they are not recognized as irrational. Examined in the cold light of reason ..."

Before turning the page- which ended with the last phrase I have quoted- I took a firm grip on my temper. It would serve no purpose to lose it, since the object of my wrath was out of reach. He must have been reading the articles on psychology I had strictly forbidden him. Or had I? I had certainly meant to, since some of the theories expressed were far too shocking for the innocent minds of children. However, I could not be certain. Telling Ramses what not to do was a time-consuming process, and it was almost impossible to keep up with him because he was always thinking of new atrocities to commit.

Realizing that I was letting my mind stray, just as Ramses had done, I went on reading.

". . . many of these beliefs do not stand up for a moment. They are, in fact, no more than mindless superst.i.tion. Whence, then, do they come? I confess I have not yet found an answer.

It is particularly galling to discover them in a mind as rational as I have always considered mine to be.

"I would like to discuss this matter with you, dearest Mama and Papa, for it interests me a great deal, but perhaps this is not the appropriate time, for you must be wondering what particular incident prompted my speculations.

"You may recall that in my last letter I described the curious incident of the dogs that barked in the nighttime. Since barking was the extent of their a.s.sistance I determined, as I believe I mentioned, that I would take steps to provide a more effective variety of watch-animal.

You see, I had a hideous foreboding ..."

I had one too. "Oh, no," I gasped.

"What?" Cyrus cried, hardly less agitated than I.

"... a hideous foreboding that we had not seen the last of nocturnal invasions. I felt certain it would be impossible to convince Uncle Walter of the logic of my decision, so I had to carry it out myself, and it was cursed inconvenient having to wait for everyone to go to sleep before I crept out to let ... [My voice broke.] ... let ... the lion . . . out of . . ."