The Snake, The Crocodile, And The Dog Part 56

"Only this," said Emerson. He took me gently by the shoulder and struck me on the chin with his clenched fist.

When Emerson hits people, he hits as hard as he can, which is quite hard indeed. I presume that being unaccustomed to judging the amount of force necessary in a situation such as this, he underestimated it.

I do not suppose I was unconscious for more than a few seconds. He had gathered me up as I fell, when my senses returned I realized that my head lay against his breast, and that he was speaking.

"... if they have not already, that we are unarmed. Someone must hold them off for a while. If you are stuck like a cork in that b.l.o.o.d.y tunnel when they break in . . ."

"Yes, I understand."

"You should be able to squeeze through, your shoulders are a trifle narrower than mine. If you cannot, try to block the tunnel from the other side. And take that d.a.m.ned parasol away from her or she will batter her way back out."

Cyrus said quietly, "If I cannot get through, I will return and fight with you."

"The more fool you, then," said Emerson rudely. "Take her, man, and go"

Needless to say, I had no intention of permitting such a scheme. I knew I must bide my time, however, if I indicated my intention to Emerson he would hit me again, perhaps harder. I preferred to take my chances with Cyrus. My parasol hung from my wrist, held by its little strap. I lay limp and unmoving as Emerson transferred me to Cyrus's arms. I had thought he might give me a last, lingering embrace before doing so, but he did not, possibly because another bullet striking nearer the entrance sprayed the interior of the cave with stone pellets.

Emerson had not been engaging in empty melodrama (though, like all men, he is p.r.o.ne to grandiloquent gestures). He was perfectly confident he could hold off any number of armed men single-handed. And he had the effrontery to lecture me about overconfidence! If we could survive long enough, there was a good chance of rescue. Whatever Cyrus's intention (and I could not believe Emerson's accusation was true there must be some mistake!) he was now in danger too, and his men would not abandon him. Not if they wanted to be paid, at any rate. Rene and Charles had seen him follow me, our loyal men would hasten to my aid even before they heard the ominous echo of gunfire. Yes, they would come. And we- all three of us- could defend the narrow entrance to the cave until they did.

Stygian darkness wrapped round us as soon as Cyrus pa.s.sed into the tunnel. It was narrow, but the ceiling was high enough to permit him to walk upright, at least at the beginning. I knew when it grew lower because Cyrus reeled back with a cry when his head hit it.

This seemed an opportune moment. I did not want to wait until we got into some s.p.a.ce too confined to permit easy movement. Taking a firm grip on my parasol I stiffened, straightened my lower limbs, and slipped neatly out of his grasp. Between the b.u.mp on the head and the suddenness of my movement he was caught off guard, I was able to slide past him and proceed quickly on my way. I was vaguely aware that my foot hurt like blazes, but it did not slow my pace. Being by now accustomed to the vagaries of pockets and pistols, I was able to extract the latter from the former without difficulty.

I had not gone far when I heard voices, and the calm, measured tones, the absence of any sound of altercation, surprised me so that I slowed my impetuous pace. Was it rescue, so soon? I must make certain before I fired my pistol that I did not injure a friend. Pausing at the end of the tunnel, I peered cautiously out into the cave.

He carried a lantern in one hand, and in the other, the right hand, he held an object that explained the need for light. It is difficult to be sure of hitting a rapidly moving target in total darkness, particularly when the tirget is intent on hitting you. The object was not a rifle, it was a hand weapon of some sort.

I am no authority on pistols. All I could see was that it was a great deal larger than mine.

Vincey's golden locks were a trifle windblown, otherwise he was as neat and composed as he had been on that fateful night in Cairo when I first met him. The ugly angle of his jaw softened as he smiled.

"Don't try to reach your weapon," he said pleasantly.

Emerson glanced at the rifle, which lay on the floor a few feet away. "It is empty."

"I surmised as much from the fact that you did not return our fire. It might have taken me a while to find your hiding place if Anubis had not kindly led me to it. You were wise to propose a truce, though I must warn you not to expect that anything to your advantage will arise from it."

"Ah, well, one never knows," said Emerson. His eyes went to the cat, which stood midway between the two men, its eyes moving from one to the other and its tail bristling. "I thought you would be unable to resist my invitation, Vincey. I observed the childish pleasure you derive from gloating over people."

Vincey's smile broadened. "I hope you aren't going to claim you did not accept my carefully prepared alibi. Hindsight, my dear Emerson, surely."

His back against the rough wall to my right, Emerson watched the other man intently. "You must take me for a fool," he said with a curl of his lip. "I saw a great deal of you during those days when I was your guest. How many pleasant hours of conversation did we enjoy, you lounging in that tasteless overstuffed chair and me in-a less comfortable position? I could hardly be mistaken as to your ident.i.ty. How did you manage to involve von Bork in this dirty business?"

"That sickly little wife of his is in need of medical attention," was the reply. "Sentimentality is weakness, a clever man knows how to use it to his advantage."

A hand grasped my arm. I shook it off. There was nothing Cyrus could do now. He knew if he tried to seize me I would struggle, and that would betray our presence to the smiling blackguard with the very large gun.

Emerson shook his head. "You have played your hand well in the past, I admit, but you have already lost this latest move. My friends are on their way. You cannot hope to carry me away from here before they- "

"I fear you do not understand. The rules of the game have changed. I am no longer in need of the information I hoped to get from you. When I leave this place you won't be coming with me."

"Hmmm." Emerson rubbed his chin. "I always thought of you as a practical sort of fellow, Vincey.

If you have what you want, why risk your neck chasing after me?"

Vincey's smile widened till it stretched the muscles of his face into a ghastly grimace. "Because you would continue to risk yours to prevent me from carrying out my plan. I can't have you breathing down my neck for the rest of my life. I admit I will derive a certain personal pleasure- call it sentimentality if you like- from killing you. You defied me, you defeated my deadliest schemes- and worst of all, you had the audacity to patronize me when I was down and out!" His voice rose in pitch. "I am going to do this slowly. The first bullet in the leg, I think. Then an arm- or perhaps the other leg- "

I had only delayed because I was curious about what he had to say. Aiming with care, I pulled the trigger.

Emerson prudently dropped to the floor. The bullet hit Vincey in the left arm. He let the lantern fall, but the wound must have been slight, for with a violent oath he swung around and pointed the gun in my direction. I pointed mine in his direction, but something spoiled my aim, it must have been Cyrus, plucking at me, or the fact that a bullet hit the wall beside me, causing me to start. My next two shots, fired in rapid succession, went wild. One of them, I was distressed to observe, struck the floor quite close to Emerson's outstretched hand, causing him to swear loudly and pull his hand back. I fired again - and heard the hammer fall on an empty chamber. I had forgotten to refill the pistol after Emerson used it to summon help.

There was nothing for it but direct attack. I burst out of the mouth of the tunnel, straight at Vincey. Unfortunately the same idea had occurred to Emerson. We collided heavily, as we toppled, he twined his arms around me and tried to turn me so he would be on top. Again, our minds worked as one. My efforts succeeded, I landed on top of him, and strove to shield his body with mine.

It was a little difficult to keep track of what was happening, for I was busily occupied in trying to protect Emerson, who kept squirming. Vincey had been somewhat confused, I believe, by the rapidity and apparent randomness of our actions. He hesitated for a perceptible moment before taking careful aim.

I closed my eyes and clung to Emerson. We would die in one another's arms, as he had once proposed. The idea did not appeal to me any more now than it had on that occasion.

The echoes of the shot deafened me. It took me some time to realize I was still breathing-unhurt, unwounded-and that there had been two shots, so close together the reports had blended into one.

I opened my eyes.

Directly in front of me was Emerson's arm. His elbow was braced against the floor, in his hand was the rifle, which pointed up at an oblique angle, on the trigger was his finger.

Now I understood why Emerson had lured his foe into the cave and left the weapon lying on the floor, as if useless to him. There had been only one bullet. He had certainly employed it in the most effective manner possible.

Pushing me away, he rose to his feet. I rolled over and sat up, my ears still ringing from the noise, my head in a whirl. When one has resigned oneself to death, it takes a while to get used to being alive.

Vincey lay crumpled on the floor, in a spreading pool of gore. Another man lay close by. He lay on his back, Vincey's bullet- the one meant for us- had struck him square in the breast and flung him backward. The lantern light lay gently on his still face and quiet, outflung, empty hands.

CHAPTER 16.

"Physical strength and moral sensibility, combined with tenderness of heart, is exactly what is wanted in a husband."

"Too late!" I cried, wringing my hands. "He gave his life for us! Oh, Charlie, if you had only come five minutes sooner!"

It was not so long as that, in fact, before our rescuers arrived. Charlie had been the first to enter now he knelt, head bowed, by the body of his kindly patron. His grief was so genuine I much regretted having suspected him.

"I doubt it would have mattered," Emerson said. "At the first sound of your approach, Vincey would have acted, and the result would probably have been the same."

"You are right," I said. "Forgive me, Charlie. I was so fond of him, and you see, he gave his life for- What did you say, Emerson?"

"Nothing," said Emerson.

Charlie rose slowly to his feet. His face was drawn with pain and sorrow. I reiterated my apology. He tried to smile "I will always feel the same regret, ma'am. You can leave him to us, now- to me and Rene. You look in pretty sad shape yourself. Go along, why don't you, and console Abdullah, he was trying to fight two fellows with rifles the last time I saw him."

We removed Abdullah from his victims, they had only been trying to defend themselves, and they fled as soon as they were able. "Explanations will be forthcoming in due time, Abdullah," I said soothingly "It was all a mistake."

"So long as you came to no harm," Abdullah muttered. Since it was too dark to see clearly, he so forgot himself as to run anxious hands over Emerson's frame, and would have done the same to me, I daresay, had not propriety prevailed.

Our loyal men fought for the privilege of carrying me, so I allowed them to do it in turn. Emerson did not offer, the cat in his arms, he stamped along in such a brown study that he did not even seem to hear Abdullah's persistent questions. Finally I said, "We will tell you the whole story later, Abdullah, after we have rested Be content now with knowing that it is over. Er- it is over, isn't it, Emerson? Emerson!"