Read Crocodile on the Sandbank Online
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: #Historical fiction, #Detective and mystery stories, #Mystery fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Suspense, #Crime & mystery, #Political, #Women detectives - Egypt, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictious character), #Crime & Thriller, #Mummies, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictitious character), #Egyptology, #Cairo (Egypt), #Mystery, #Detective, #Women detectives, #Emerson, #Radcliffe (Fictitious character), #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Archaeologists' spouses, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Egypt, #Fiction - Mystery
Crocodile on the Sandbank (23 page)
Lucas's pace was quicker; he soon caught her up and they walked on
together. Naturally I could not
hear what they said, but I felt sure he
was pressing his suit. The weary shake of her head gave me some hope,
but not enough.
I turned to Walter, who was sitting beside me. His eyes were fixed on
the distant couple. He looked ten years older than his real age.
"They make a pretty pair," said Emerson, who was outdoing himself in
obnoxiousness that afternoon. "My lord and my lady, it will be an
excellent match."
"Oh, do be still," I snapped.
"Why, I thought ladies enjoyed matchmaking. You may be proud if you
bring this off. He is rich, titled, handsome; she is poor. A brilliant
match for a girl like that."
My self-control, ordinarily excellent, suddenly snapped. I was utterly
disgusted with the lot of them—
with Evelyn and her morbid love of
martyrdom, with Lucas and his arrogance, with Walter's hang-dog
suffering acceptance— and most of all with Emerson. He thought he had
won, and I feared he had; by handing Evelyn over to Lucas he kept his
brother bound to his selfish wishes and now he was twisting the knife
in the wound, convincing Walter that the girl was marrying Lucas out of
the desire for wealth and worldly position. His smile maddened me; I
could no longer hold my tongue.
"Bring it off!" I cried. "I would rather see Evelyn in a— in a
monastery
than married to that wretch. She does not love him. She loves— someone
else, and thinks she will save him by accepting Lucas. Perhaps she is
right after all. The man she loves is a poor-spirited wretch, who will
not even take the trouble to declare himself!"
Walter grasped my hands. His face was transfigured.
"You can't mean it," he whispered. "You can't mean that I — "
"Yes, you young fool." I gave him a shove that sent him staggering.
"She loves you; why, I cannot imagine, but she does. Now go and stop
her!"
Walter gave me a look that made me tremble. He bounded off down the
ledge; and I turned to face his brother, throwing my shoulders back
defiantly. I had done a foolhardy thing; I did not know what would come
of it. But at that moment I was prepared to face a whole horde of
Mummies, much less Emerson, to defend my act.
He was rocking back and forth in his chair, shaken by silent spasms of
laughter.
"My dear Peabody," he gasped. "You amaze me. Can it be that you are a
secret romantic after all?"
He was impossible. I turned my back on him and watched the tableau down
below.
Walter ran like a deer; he soon reached the others, and the three stood
talking. It was only too easy to follow the conversation; Walter's
impassioned gestures, Evelyn's startled response, and Lucas's angry
interruption.
"I am going down," I said uneasily. "I may have acted a trifle
precipitately...."
"Intervention might be advisable," Emerson agreed calmly. "His noble
lordship is not above striking a wounded man; and Walter is no match
for him with only one arm. Damnation! I have waited too long!"
He had waited too long; and he had been correct in his assessment of
Lucas's character. He struck; Walter went staggering back. Emerson was
already halfway down the path, leaping along like a mountain goat. I
followed; I dared not go quickly, for I could not remove my eyes from
the little drama below.
Evelyn tried to intervene; Lucas shook her off. Walter had been shaken
but not felled; he returned to the fray. Ducking his head under the
other man's flailing blows, he returned them with interest; and I could
scarcely repress a cheer when his clenched fist struck Lucas's
outthrust jaw with a solid smack. Lucas
fell just as Emerson came
running up. He seized his brother's arm— unnecessarily, for Walter was
not
the man to take advantage of a fallen opponent. Running as fast as
I could with the handicaps of full
skirts and drifted sand, I came up
to them as Lucas was rising to his feet.
He stood swaying unsteadily, his hand rubbing his chin. The fall had
scarcely rumpled his elegant attire, but there was little of the
English gentleman about him as he glared at Walter, his liquid black
eyes hot with Latin rage.
"Two against one?" he inquired with a sneer. "Very sporting, gentlemen!"
"You are a fine one to talk of sportsmanship," I exclaimed. 'To strike
an injured man—"
"He used terms I allow no man to use to me," Lucas interrupted.
"I regret the terms," Walter said in a low voice. "But not the emotion
that prompted them. Miss Amelia—Radcliffe — if you had heard the things
he said of Evelyn—the implications he was vile enough to make— "
"They were true," Evelyn said.
All eyes turned toward Evelyn.
White as the lace at her throat, straight as a young birch tree, she
faced the staring eyes without flinching. She stepped back— not in
retreat, but in a deliberate movement that separated her from support.
She waved me back with an irresistible gesture of command as I started
toward her, expostulations rising to my lips.
"No, Amelia," she said, in me same quiet voice. "I had, for a time, the
cowardly hope of avoiding this. But in justice to Lucas— and to all of
you— I cannot remain silent. In the heat of anger Lucas spoke the
truth.
Not only have I lost a woman's most priceless jewel, I gave it up to a
profligate, a wastrel, and a ruffian. I acted of my own free will. I
abandoned an old man who loved me, and was only saved from
the ultimate
sin of taking my own life by Amelia's charity. Now that you know the
worst, you will no longer seek to detain me. And you will accept my
thanks for saving me, in the nick of time, from the despicable act I
was about to commit. I see now that I cannot injure Lucas by taking
advantage of his noble offer of marriage. That would be a fine way to
repay his kindness, would it not?"
"Evelyn, my dearest," Lucas began.
She shook her head. It was a mild enough gesture, but even Lucas was
convinced by the unalterable firmness of her expression. His
outstretched hand fell to his side.
"I shall never marry. By devoting my life to good works and charitable
undertakings I may one day partially redeem my ruined
character."
She had intended to say more; she was proceeding in fine dramatic
style, poor young thing, carried away by the tragedy of it all, as the
young are. But her emotions were too genuine, too painful; her voice
broke in a sob. She continued to stand pilloried under the astonished
gaze of— Walter. She had spoken as if to all of us; but it was Walter
she had really addressed.
He looked like a man who has received a mortal wound and does not yet
realize that he ought to fall down. Emerson's countenance was as blank
as the rock cliff behind him. Only his eyes were alive.
They moved from
Evelyn's ashen face to the equally corpselike countenance of his
brother; but that
was the only movement he made; he did not speak.
Suddenly the color rushed back into Walter's face, so hecticly that he
looked fevered. His dull, blank
eyes came alive. Stepping forward, he
dropped to his knees before Evelyn.
I thought that the long-expected collapse was about to occur. It was
with an indescribable thrill of emotion that I realized he had grasped
Evelyn's limp hand in his and was pressing his lips against it. I did
not need to hear his words to know he had risen to heights I never
really expected a man to reach.
"You are the noblest girl I have ever met," he cried, raising his eyes
to Evelyn's astonished face. "The truest, the most courageous, the
loveliest.... I don't know many men who would have the strength to do
what you have just done! But my
dearest, sweetest girl...." he rose, still holding her hand and looking
down at her with tender reproach. "Do you think so little of me that
you suppose I would not understand your tragic story? Evelyn, you might
have trusted me!"
For a moment she returned his gaze, her eyes wide, wondering,
unbelieving. Then, with a tired little sigh, she closed her eyes and
let her golden head fall upon his breast. His arm around her waist,
Walter held her close.
I watched them with the most thorough satisfaction I had ever felt in
my life. I did not even wipe away the tears that rained
down my face— although I began to think it was just as well Evelyn was
leaving
me. A few more weeks with her, and I should have turned into a
rampageous sentimentalist.
"Thank goodness that is settled," said Emerson. "It took long enough,
heaven knows, and became sickeningly maudlin toward the end. Come,
Walter, kiss your fiancee, and let us all go back to camp.
I am hungry;
I want my dinner."
I don't think Walter heard a word of this speech. It struck just the
right note for me; I needed some
vent for my overflowing emotions.
"No one would ever accuse you of being sentimental," I said angrily.
"Are you trying to suggest, you dreadful man, that you expected this
development? Will you allow your brother to throw himself away
on a
penniless girl?"
"Not only penniless," said Emerson cheerfully, "but ruined. Although
why 'ruined,' I cannot make out;
she seems to be quite undamaged in all
meaningful respects. A capable artist will be a useful addition to the
staff. And I shan't have to pay her a salary— just think of the
savings!"
"This is a trick."
The voice spoke just behind me. I started, and turned. Incredible as it
seems, I had quite forgotten Lucas.
His passions were under control; only the intense glitter of his eyes
betrayed his feelings as, ignoring me, he walked up to Emerson.
"A trick," he repeated. "You cannot mean to encourage this, Emerson.
You don't mean it."
"Your lordship fails to understand my character," said Emerson
smoothly. "Who am I to stand in the
path of true love? I honestly
believe," he added, looking intently at Lucas, "that this is the best
of all possible arrangements for all of us. Don't you agree, my lord?"
Lucas did not reply immediately. I felt a faint stir of pity for him as
he struggled with his emotions. They were intense; I wondered if, after
all, he did love Evelyn, as much as a man of his limited capacity was
capable of love. And when he
finally spoke, I had to admire his attitude.
"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps this is how it was meant to be. 'There
is a fatality that shapes our ends,' as Shakespeare has put it----- "
"If not precisely in those words," Emerson agreed. "May I congratulate
you, my lord, on behaving like a true British nobleman. Will you heap
coals of fire on our heads by joining us in a toast to the engaged
couple? Walter— come, Walter, wake up, Walter— "
He joggled his brother's elbow. Walter raised his face from where it
had been resting on Evelyn's bowed head; he looked like a man waking
from an ecstatic dream to find that the dream is reality.
Lucas hesitated for a moment, looking at Evelyn. She didn't see him;
she was gazing up into Walter's
face like an acolyte adoring a saint.
Lucas shrugged, or perhaps he shivered; the movement rippled through
his body and was gone.
"I am not so noble as that," he said, with a faint smile. "Excuse me. I
think I want to be alone for a while."
"Off into the sunset," said Emerson, as Lucas's retreating form was
silhouetted against the west. "How theatrical these young persons are!
Thank God for our sober, middle-aged common sense, eh, Peabody?"
I watched Evelyn and Walter walk away. His arm was about her waist; her
head still rested on his shoulder, and if he felt pain, where it
pressed against the bullet wound, he showed no signs of it.
"Yes, indeed," I replied sourly. "Thank God for it."
passed and he did not return,
I began to worry.
We had eaten one of the vilest dinners imaginable. It had been cooked
by Abdullah; he explained that Lucas's cook and the waiter who had
accompanied us to camp that morning were not to be found. I found this
alarming, but Emerson, who was in an inexplicably good mood, shrugged
it away.
We were all sitting on the ledge together, watching the moon rise; but
Emerson and I might as well have been alone, for all the conversation
we got out of the other two. They didn't hear a word anyone said to
them. I was therefore forced to confide my worries about Lucas to
Emerson, although I did not expect
to find much concern in that
quarter. In this assumption I was correct.
"He has probably gone with his men," Emerson said calmly. "I think,
Peabody, that we have seen the
last of his lordship."
"You mean— he has deserted us? He would not be so cowardly!"
"I fancy he might. But let me do him justice; he has not abandoned us
to danger. Indeed, I think it possible that we have also seen the last
of the Mummy."
"Nonsense," I said irritably. "Lucas could not have been the Mummy. We
saw them together on more than one occasion."
"I may be wrong," said Emerson— in a tone that contradicted the false
modesty of his words. "His suggestion— which had also occurred to
me— may be the correct one: that there is an unrobbed tomb back in the
hills which the villagers hope to exploit. In any case, it must be
obvious even to you, Peabody, that the instigator of the plot is not an
Egyptian; it contains too many features that could have been invented
only by a European or an Englishman. Or perhaps an American; they have
their share of unscrupulous collectors -----"
"What are you talking about?"
"Professional jealousy, Peabody. No doubt it seems incredible to you
that any reasonable man would act so, but I assure you, there are
colleagues in my field who would go to any extreme to exploit a
sensational discovery such as a royal tomb. I have the concession at
Amarna; I had a devil of a time wringing it out
of Maspero, but not
even he would dare take it away now. The man is quite capable of
employing such tricks to make me abandon my excavation and leave the
field open to him. Another feather in his cap! Not that Maspero is the
only one— "
"Of all the absurd ideas!"
"What is the alternative? If not the place, it is a person who is under
attack. I have no enemies— "
"Ha," I said.
"A few individuals may resent my justified criticism," Emerson said
meditatively. "Yes; I daresay there are some individuals so degraded
that they might respond to my well-intended suggestions with rancor—"
"If anyone murders you," I interrupted, "which seems quite likely, it
will be in the heat of anger, with a club or some other convenient
blunt instrument. I am only surprised it has not happened before this."
"My enemies are professional, not personal," Emerson insisted. "Walter
has none, of either kind. His character is regrettably
mild. Are you sure there are no discarded lovers pursuing you?"
The question did not deserve an answer. After a moment, Emerson went
on, "Then it must be Miss Evelyn who inspires such agitated activity on
the part of our unknown enemy. If that is the case, the events of this
evening must settle the question. His lordship, having received his
congee, has departed— "
The rattle of pebbles on the path below disproved his words as soon as
they were spoken. I knew the step.
The moon was a spectacular silver orb, almost at the full, shedding a
silvery radiance over the silent desert, the river, the cliffs. The
light was not quite bright enough for me to distinguish Emerson's
expression. I much regretted that.
"Lucas," I said, turning to welcome the newcomer with a warmth I had
not heretofore displayed.
"I am relieved you are back. I was worried
about you."
"How kind of you." Lucas looked, betrayingly, into the shadows behind
us, where Evelyn and Walter were sitting. Receiving no greeting from
that quarter, his eyes returned to me. "I felt the need of a walk.
I
have walked; I have accomplished my purpose. You did not suppose I
would desert you?"
"I felt sure you would not," I said. From Emerson, beside me, came no
comment. "Of course not. Tomorrow I will endeavor to forget certain ...
personal griefs in hard work; it will be delightful to explore the
cliffs for buried treasure. In the meantime, I remembered Emerson's
suggestion; I have brought a bottle of wine, in which to drink to my
cousin."
I could not help shooting a triumphant glance at Emerson. He sat in
glum silence, his face in shadow; only his hand was visible, clenched
whitely on the arm of his chair. I don't know why I should have been so
pleased to see Lucas behaving like a gentleman for a change. I never
liked the man. . . . But of course I do know why. I would have defended
Satan himself if he had been in disfavor with Emerson.
Lucas was as good as his word; it was as if he had determined to humble
himself as thoroughly as possible. He carried a tray with glasses and a
bottle; putting this down, with a flourish that struck me as rather
pathetic, he began to work at the cork.
"Won't you persuade Evelyn to join us?" he asked in a low voice. "I
dare not; to be candid, I am ashamed of myself for my behavior this
afternoon. I am of a passionate nature; I suppose dear old Grandfather
would say it was my Latin blood."
So I called Evelyn, and she came out of the deep shadow where she had
been sitting, holding Walter by the hand and smiling shyly at her
cousin. I found his excuses inadequate. Nothing could possibly excuse
his reference to her misfortune in front of Walter. But, on the other
hand, this very reference had brought about the present happy state of
affairs, and I must say that Lucas made his apologies like a man and a
Briton. Walter received them in the same spirit; to see the two young
fellows clasp hands, there in the moonlight, was a touching sight.
Then Lucas handed us each a glass and raised his own. "To Evelyn's
future!" he cried. "May it bring all that her closest kinsman could
desire!"
We drank. Even Emerson took a sip. He made a face, like a nasty little
boy taking medicine. He had moved his chair out near the table, and I
could see him quite well; his expression of sour disapproval pleased me
no end. Seeing that he was in no mood to do the proper thing, and
realizing that it was a little too much to expect of Lucas, I proposed
the next toast.
"To Walter! May he make Evelyn as happy as she deserves—or I will deal
with him!"
"Spoken with characteristic tact," said Emerson under his breath.
Walter leaned forward and put his hand on mine.
"You may deal with me as you see fit, Miss Amelia," he said warmly.
"Don't think I shall ever forget that it is to your encouragement, in
large measure, that I owe my present happiness. I hope you will be
often with us; you may keep your eye on me that way and make sure I
measure up to your expectations."
Emerson rolled his eyes heavenward.
"I may take advantage of your invitation," I said cheerfully. "I have
developed quite a taste for archaeology."
I suppose it was the wine that made me feel so giddy. We all waxed
cheerful under its benign influence— all but Emerson, who sat brooding
like a hard stone statue. Finally, when the bottle was empty, Lucas
concluded the fete.
"If all goes well, we shall have a busy day tomorrow. Rest is
advisable. I suggest, gentlemen, that we stand watch tonight. Tomorrow
may bring an end to the mysteries that surround us; let us make sure
no
mishap occurs tonight."
"Just what I was about to suggest," muttered Emerson, shooting a
piercing glance at Lucas. "Which
watch would you prefer, my lord?"
Lucas replied with a shrug. It was arranged that he should remain on
guard for the first three hours of the night, Emerson for the second
watch, and Walter for the remainder. I carried Evelyn off to our
sleeping chamber; she was in such a fog her feet seemed not to touch
the ground, and after a few incoherent exclamations of gratitude and
joy, she quickly fell asleep.
I was drowsy myself, unusually so, for the hour was still early; yet my
drooping eyelids obstinately refused to remain shut. Some indefinable
nagging discomfort kept forcing them open. The discomfort was purely
mental; I had become inured by then to the hard mattress and the other
rugged accompaniments to camping out. There is nothing more abominable
than being in a state of bodily exhaustion and mental irritation; I was
too lethargic to get up and seek some means of occupying my mind, but I
was too uneasy to fall asleep. Try as I might, I could not pin down the
cause of my uneasiness. We were, of course, in danger of a nocturnal
visit from a
singularly unpleasant apparition, but that was not what bothered me; I
was becoming accustomed to that worry, it was like a familiar ache in a
particular tooth. I thought if it continued much longer I should
probably become quite accustomed to it. No, this was another sort of
twinge; I could not locate it. I ought to have been in a state of
peaceful triumph; I had won out over Emerson and attained what I most
desired for the girl who was so dear to me—
Had I won out, though?
The more I recalled Emerson's behavior and speech that day, the more I
wondered. It was almost as if
he had been working to attain the same
end; everything he had said was a spur, a prick, a goad, to urge his
brother on to a declaration. I ground my teeth together. If Emerson
wanted Evelyn for his brother,
he must have some ulterior motive that
escaped me.
There came a sound, at the entrance to the tomb chamber. The curtain
was lifted. I rolled over. The rough mattress crackled. "Who is it?" I
whispered. "Lucas, is that you?"
"Yes. What is wrong, Miss Amelia?
Can't you sleep?" With a gigantic effort I dragged myself from bed and
assumed my dressing gown. Evelyn was still sleeping sweetly. I tiptoed
to the doorway.
"I can't sleep," I said softly. "Perhaps I am too tired. And you,
Lucas? Did you have some reason for looking in just now?"
"I don't know.... I am strangely uneasy tonight. I heard you stirring,
and was afraid...."
"I am uneasy too."
I joined him on the ledge. The night was perfect. The world dreamed
peacefully under the moon. The
air felt cool; I shivered, and drew my
dressing gown close around my throat.
"You ought to sleep," Lucas said. "Perhaps another glass of wine is
what you need."
"Lucas, you are not drinking more wine? Surely that is
unwise."
"I am not made of iron," Lucas said; his voice was so savage I
recoiled. "I will do what must be done;
but allow me something with
which to fortify myself. Come; I insist that you join me."
Fool that I was! I felt sorry for him. His genuine emotion seemed more
pathetic to me than the theatrics he had shown earlier. He was pouring
the wine when Emerson came out of his chamber and advanced upon us.
"A party, and you did not invite me?" he said. "Or am I interrupting a
more personal meeting?"
"Don't be any more foolish than you can help," I said. My last words
were muffled in a huge yawn.
"Oh, dear, I am so tired. I don't know why
I can't sleep."
"Evelyn seems to be the only one with a clear conscience," said Lucas,
snapping his teeth together. "Or
is the lucky man sleeping too?"
"Yes,"
Emerson said. "Walter is asleep."
"And why not you? It is too early for
you to relieve me."
"Still, you may as well retire now that I am here.
There is no point in all of us being awake. Sometimes
I never go to bed
at all. This seems to be one of those nights. I don't know why they
happen," said Emerson musingly. "It is unaccountable. But I feel just
now as if I should never want to sleep again."
I knew then that something was badly wrong; and that Emerson was aware
of it. His idiotic speech was an unconvincing lie; his lids were half
closed, his shoulders drooped; and now that I looked at him more
closely, I saw that his thick black hair was damp, as if he had been
pouring water on it... to keep awake?
I had employed a similar trick
myself, the preceding night. All my senses prickled in alarm.
"Oh, very well," Lucas said sulkily. "Since I am of no use, I may as
well remove myself and finish my bottle in private— unless I can
persuade you two to join me in a glass? No? Good
night, then. I have no desire to go into that stifling hole of a tomb;
I shall sleep in the tent down below, and you, my gallant Emerson, can
waken me with a shout if we have unexpected visitors."
Cradling the wine bottle in his arms, he staggered down the path. I had
not realized he was so intoxicated. Was that what Emerson feared— that
Lucas would fail as a guard because of his drinking?
The moment he was out of sight, Emerson turned on me and dragged me up
out of the chair into which
I had slumped. He shook me till my head
rolled and my hair came loose from the net.
"Wake up, Peabody! If you fall asleep, I shall slap you till you howl.
Curse it, don't you understand that we have been drugged?"
"Drugged?" I repeated stupidly. "I have been fighting sleep myself for
an hour, and a hard fight it was. Have you nothing in that medicine box
of yours to counteract the effects of laudanum?" I tried to think.
Something was certainly dulling my mind. "My smelling salts," I said,
with an effort. "They are extremely strong -----"
"Oh, damnation," said Emerson. "A pretty picture that will be! Well,
it's better than nothing. Go fetch them. Hurry."
To hurry was impossible. I could barely drag myself along. But I found
the smelling salts, and men had
a look at Evelyn. A single glance told
me Emerson was right. She was sleeping too soundly. I shook her,
without effect. Either she had received a larger dose of the drug, or
her delicate constitution was more susceptible to it man mine. It would
be difficult to awaken her.
I applied the bottle to my own nose. It was certainly effective.
Feeling much more alert, I hastened back to Emerson, who was leaning up
against the cliff with his arms and legs at strange angles and his eyes
slightly crossed. I thrust the bottle at him. He started back, banging
his head against the rock,
and made several profane remarks.
together. Naturally I could not
hear what they said, but I felt sure he
was pressing his suit. The weary shake of her head gave me some hope,
but not enough.
I turned to Walter, who was sitting beside me. His eyes were fixed on
the distant couple. He looked ten years older than his real age.
"They make a pretty pair," said Emerson, who was outdoing himself in
obnoxiousness that afternoon. "My lord and my lady, it will be an
excellent match."
"Oh, do be still," I snapped.
"Why, I thought ladies enjoyed matchmaking. You may be proud if you
bring this off. He is rich, titled, handsome; she is poor. A brilliant
match for a girl like that."
My self-control, ordinarily excellent, suddenly snapped. I was utterly
disgusted with the lot of them—
with Evelyn and her morbid love of
martyrdom, with Lucas and his arrogance, with Walter's hang-dog
suffering acceptance— and most of all with Emerson. He thought he had
won, and I feared he had; by handing Evelyn over to Lucas he kept his
brother bound to his selfish wishes and now he was twisting the knife
in the wound, convincing Walter that the girl was marrying Lucas out of
the desire for wealth and worldly position. His smile maddened me; I
could no longer hold my tongue.
"Bring it off!" I cried. "I would rather see Evelyn in a— in a
monastery
than married to that wretch. She does not love him. She loves— someone
else, and thinks she will save him by accepting Lucas. Perhaps she is
right after all. The man she loves is a poor-spirited wretch, who will
not even take the trouble to declare himself!"
Walter grasped my hands. His face was transfigured.
"You can't mean it," he whispered. "You can't mean that I — "
"Yes, you young fool." I gave him a shove that sent him staggering.
"She loves you; why, I cannot imagine, but she does. Now go and stop
her!"
Walter gave me a look that made me tremble. He bounded off down the
ledge; and I turned to face his brother, throwing my shoulders back
defiantly. I had done a foolhardy thing; I did not know what would come
of it. But at that moment I was prepared to face a whole horde of
Mummies, much less Emerson, to defend my act.
He was rocking back and forth in his chair, shaken by silent spasms of
laughter.
"My dear Peabody," he gasped. "You amaze me. Can it be that you are a
secret romantic after all?"
He was impossible. I turned my back on him and watched the tableau down
below.
Walter ran like a deer; he soon reached the others, and the three stood
talking. It was only too easy to follow the conversation; Walter's
impassioned gestures, Evelyn's startled response, and Lucas's angry
interruption.
"I am going down," I said uneasily. "I may have acted a trifle
precipitately...."
"Intervention might be advisable," Emerson agreed calmly. "His noble
lordship is not above striking a wounded man; and Walter is no match
for him with only one arm. Damnation! I have waited too long!"
He had waited too long; and he had been correct in his assessment of
Lucas's character. He struck; Walter went staggering back. Emerson was
already halfway down the path, leaping along like a mountain goat. I
followed; I dared not go quickly, for I could not remove my eyes from
the little drama below.
Evelyn tried to intervene; Lucas shook her off. Walter had been shaken
but not felled; he returned to the fray. Ducking his head under the
other man's flailing blows, he returned them with interest; and I could
scarcely repress a cheer when his clenched fist struck Lucas's
outthrust jaw with a solid smack. Lucas
fell just as Emerson came
running up. He seized his brother's arm— unnecessarily, for Walter was
not
the man to take advantage of a fallen opponent. Running as fast as
I could with the handicaps of full
skirts and drifted sand, I came up
to them as Lucas was rising to his feet.
He stood swaying unsteadily, his hand rubbing his chin. The fall had
scarcely rumpled his elegant attire, but there was little of the
English gentleman about him as he glared at Walter, his liquid black
eyes hot with Latin rage.
"Two against one?" he inquired with a sneer. "Very sporting, gentlemen!"
"You are a fine one to talk of sportsmanship," I exclaimed. 'To strike
an injured man—"
"He used terms I allow no man to use to me," Lucas interrupted.
"I regret the terms," Walter said in a low voice. "But not the emotion
that prompted them. Miss Amelia—Radcliffe — if you had heard the things
he said of Evelyn—the implications he was vile enough to make— "
"They were true," Evelyn said.
All eyes turned toward Evelyn.
White as the lace at her throat, straight as a young birch tree, she
faced the staring eyes without flinching. She stepped back— not in
retreat, but in a deliberate movement that separated her from support.
She waved me back with an irresistible gesture of command as I started
toward her, expostulations rising to my lips.
"No, Amelia," she said, in me same quiet voice. "I had, for a time, the
cowardly hope of avoiding this. But in justice to Lucas— and to all of
you— I cannot remain silent. In the heat of anger Lucas spoke the
truth.
Not only have I lost a woman's most priceless jewel, I gave it up to a
profligate, a wastrel, and a ruffian. I acted of my own free will. I
abandoned an old man who loved me, and was only saved from
the ultimate
sin of taking my own life by Amelia's charity. Now that you know the
worst, you will no longer seek to detain me. And you will accept my
thanks for saving me, in the nick of time, from the despicable act I
was about to commit. I see now that I cannot injure Lucas by taking
advantage of his noble offer of marriage. That would be a fine way to
repay his kindness, would it not?"
"Evelyn, my dearest," Lucas began.
She shook her head. It was a mild enough gesture, but even Lucas was
convinced by the unalterable firmness of her expression. His
outstretched hand fell to his side.
"I shall never marry. By devoting my life to good works and charitable
undertakings I may one day partially redeem my ruined
character."
She had intended to say more; she was proceeding in fine dramatic
style, poor young thing, carried away by the tragedy of it all, as the
young are. But her emotions were too genuine, too painful; her voice
broke in a sob. She continued to stand pilloried under the astonished
gaze of— Walter. She had spoken as if to all of us; but it was Walter
she had really addressed.
He looked like a man who has received a mortal wound and does not yet
realize that he ought to fall down. Emerson's countenance was as blank
as the rock cliff behind him. Only his eyes were alive.
They moved from
Evelyn's ashen face to the equally corpselike countenance of his
brother; but that
was the only movement he made; he did not speak.
Suddenly the color rushed back into Walter's face, so hecticly that he
looked fevered. His dull, blank
eyes came alive. Stepping forward, he
dropped to his knees before Evelyn.
I thought that the long-expected collapse was about to occur. It was
with an indescribable thrill of emotion that I realized he had grasped
Evelyn's limp hand in his and was pressing his lips against it. I did
not need to hear his words to know he had risen to heights I never
really expected a man to reach.
"You are the noblest girl I have ever met," he cried, raising his eyes
to Evelyn's astonished face. "The truest, the most courageous, the
loveliest.... I don't know many men who would have the strength to do
what you have just done! But my
dearest, sweetest girl...." he rose, still holding her hand and looking
down at her with tender reproach. "Do you think so little of me that
you suppose I would not understand your tragic story? Evelyn, you might
have trusted me!"
For a moment she returned his gaze, her eyes wide, wondering,
unbelieving. Then, with a tired little sigh, she closed her eyes and
let her golden head fall upon his breast. His arm around her waist,
Walter held her close.
I watched them with the most thorough satisfaction I had ever felt in
my life. I did not even wipe away the tears that rained
down my face— although I began to think it was just as well Evelyn was
leaving
me. A few more weeks with her, and I should have turned into a
rampageous sentimentalist.
"Thank goodness that is settled," said Emerson. "It took long enough,
heaven knows, and became sickeningly maudlin toward the end. Come,
Walter, kiss your fiancee, and let us all go back to camp.
I am hungry;
I want my dinner."
I don't think Walter heard a word of this speech. It struck just the
right note for me; I needed some
vent for my overflowing emotions.
"No one would ever accuse you of being sentimental," I said angrily.
"Are you trying to suggest, you dreadful man, that you expected this
development? Will you allow your brother to throw himself away
on a
penniless girl?"
"Not only penniless," said Emerson cheerfully, "but ruined. Although
why 'ruined,' I cannot make out;
she seems to be quite undamaged in all
meaningful respects. A capable artist will be a useful addition to the
staff. And I shan't have to pay her a salary— just think of the
savings!"
"This is a trick."
The voice spoke just behind me. I started, and turned. Incredible as it
seems, I had quite forgotten Lucas.
His passions were under control; only the intense glitter of his eyes
betrayed his feelings as, ignoring me, he walked up to Emerson.
"A trick," he repeated. "You cannot mean to encourage this, Emerson.
You don't mean it."
"Your lordship fails to understand my character," said Emerson
smoothly. "Who am I to stand in the
path of true love? I honestly
believe," he added, looking intently at Lucas, "that this is the best
of all possible arrangements for all of us. Don't you agree, my lord?"
Lucas did not reply immediately. I felt a faint stir of pity for him as
he struggled with his emotions. They were intense; I wondered if, after
all, he did love Evelyn, as much as a man of his limited capacity was
capable of love. And when he
finally spoke, I had to admire his attitude.
"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps this is how it was meant to be. 'There
is a fatality that shapes our ends,' as Shakespeare has put it----- "
"If not precisely in those words," Emerson agreed. "May I congratulate
you, my lord, on behaving like a true British nobleman. Will you heap
coals of fire on our heads by joining us in a toast to the engaged
couple? Walter— come, Walter, wake up, Walter— "
He joggled his brother's elbow. Walter raised his face from where it
had been resting on Evelyn's bowed head; he looked like a man waking
from an ecstatic dream to find that the dream is reality.
Lucas hesitated for a moment, looking at Evelyn. She didn't see him;
she was gazing up into Walter's
face like an acolyte adoring a saint.
Lucas shrugged, or perhaps he shivered; the movement rippled through
his body and was gone.
"I am not so noble as that," he said, with a faint smile. "Excuse me. I
think I want to be alone for a while."
"Off into the sunset," said Emerson, as Lucas's retreating form was
silhouetted against the west. "How theatrical these young persons are!
Thank God for our sober, middle-aged common sense, eh, Peabody?"
I watched Evelyn and Walter walk away. His arm was about her waist; her
head still rested on his shoulder, and if he felt pain, where it
pressed against the bullet wound, he showed no signs of it.
"Yes, indeed," I replied sourly. "Thank God for it."
11
I NEVER expected I would be concerned about Lucas, but as the hourspassed and he did not return,
I began to worry.
We had eaten one of the vilest dinners imaginable. It had been cooked
by Abdullah; he explained that Lucas's cook and the waiter who had
accompanied us to camp that morning were not to be found. I found this
alarming, but Emerson, who was in an inexplicably good mood, shrugged
it away.
We were all sitting on the ledge together, watching the moon rise; but
Emerson and I might as well have been alone, for all the conversation
we got out of the other two. They didn't hear a word anyone said to
them. I was therefore forced to confide my worries about Lucas to
Emerson, although I did not expect
to find much concern in that
quarter. In this assumption I was correct.
"He has probably gone with his men," Emerson said calmly. "I think,
Peabody, that we have seen the
last of his lordship."
"You mean— he has deserted us? He would not be so cowardly!"
"I fancy he might. But let me do him justice; he has not abandoned us
to danger. Indeed, I think it possible that we have also seen the last
of the Mummy."
"Nonsense," I said irritably. "Lucas could not have been the Mummy. We
saw them together on more than one occasion."
"I may be wrong," said Emerson— in a tone that contradicted the false
modesty of his words. "His suggestion— which had also occurred to
me— may be the correct one: that there is an unrobbed tomb back in the
hills which the villagers hope to exploit. In any case, it must be
obvious even to you, Peabody, that the instigator of the plot is not an
Egyptian; it contains too many features that could have been invented
only by a European or an Englishman. Or perhaps an American; they have
their share of unscrupulous collectors -----"
"What are you talking about?"
"Professional jealousy, Peabody. No doubt it seems incredible to you
that any reasonable man would act so, but I assure you, there are
colleagues in my field who would go to any extreme to exploit a
sensational discovery such as a royal tomb. I have the concession at
Amarna; I had a devil of a time wringing it out
of Maspero, but not
even he would dare take it away now. The man is quite capable of
employing such tricks to make me abandon my excavation and leave the
field open to him. Another feather in his cap! Not that Maspero is the
only one— "
"Of all the absurd ideas!"
"What is the alternative? If not the place, it is a person who is under
attack. I have no enemies— "
"Ha," I said.
"A few individuals may resent my justified criticism," Emerson said
meditatively. "Yes; I daresay there are some individuals so degraded
that they might respond to my well-intended suggestions with rancor—"
"If anyone murders you," I interrupted, "which seems quite likely, it
will be in the heat of anger, with a club or some other convenient
blunt instrument. I am only surprised it has not happened before this."
"My enemies are professional, not personal," Emerson insisted. "Walter
has none, of either kind. His character is regrettably
mild. Are you sure there are no discarded lovers pursuing you?"
The question did not deserve an answer. After a moment, Emerson went
on, "Then it must be Miss Evelyn who inspires such agitated activity on
the part of our unknown enemy. If that is the case, the events of this
evening must settle the question. His lordship, having received his
congee, has departed— "
The rattle of pebbles on the path below disproved his words as soon as
they were spoken. I knew the step.
The moon was a spectacular silver orb, almost at the full, shedding a
silvery radiance over the silent desert, the river, the cliffs. The
light was not quite bright enough for me to distinguish Emerson's
expression. I much regretted that.
"Lucas," I said, turning to welcome the newcomer with a warmth I had
not heretofore displayed.
"I am relieved you are back. I was worried
about you."
"How kind of you." Lucas looked, betrayingly, into the shadows behind
us, where Evelyn and Walter were sitting. Receiving no greeting from
that quarter, his eyes returned to me. "I felt the need of a walk.
I
have walked; I have accomplished my purpose. You did not suppose I
would desert you?"
"I felt sure you would not," I said. From Emerson, beside me, came no
comment. "Of course not. Tomorrow I will endeavor to forget certain ...
personal griefs in hard work; it will be delightful to explore the
cliffs for buried treasure. In the meantime, I remembered Emerson's
suggestion; I have brought a bottle of wine, in which to drink to my
cousin."
I could not help shooting a triumphant glance at Emerson. He sat in
glum silence, his face in shadow; only his hand was visible, clenched
whitely on the arm of his chair. I don't know why I should have been so
pleased to see Lucas behaving like a gentleman for a change. I never
liked the man. . . . But of course I do know why. I would have defended
Satan himself if he had been in disfavor with Emerson.
Lucas was as good as his word; it was as if he had determined to humble
himself as thoroughly as possible. He carried a tray with glasses and a
bottle; putting this down, with a flourish that struck me as rather
pathetic, he began to work at the cork.
"Won't you persuade Evelyn to join us?" he asked in a low voice. "I
dare not; to be candid, I am ashamed of myself for my behavior this
afternoon. I am of a passionate nature; I suppose dear old Grandfather
would say it was my Latin blood."
So I called Evelyn, and she came out of the deep shadow where she had
been sitting, holding Walter by the hand and smiling shyly at her
cousin. I found his excuses inadequate. Nothing could possibly excuse
his reference to her misfortune in front of Walter. But, on the other
hand, this very reference had brought about the present happy state of
affairs, and I must say that Lucas made his apologies like a man and a
Briton. Walter received them in the same spirit; to see the two young
fellows clasp hands, there in the moonlight, was a touching sight.
Then Lucas handed us each a glass and raised his own. "To Evelyn's
future!" he cried. "May it bring all that her closest kinsman could
desire!"
We drank. Even Emerson took a sip. He made a face, like a nasty little
boy taking medicine. He had moved his chair out near the table, and I
could see him quite well; his expression of sour disapproval pleased me
no end. Seeing that he was in no mood to do the proper thing, and
realizing that it was a little too much to expect of Lucas, I proposed
the next toast.
"To Walter! May he make Evelyn as happy as she deserves—or I will deal
with him!"
"Spoken with characteristic tact," said Emerson under his breath.
Walter leaned forward and put his hand on mine.
"You may deal with me as you see fit, Miss Amelia," he said warmly.
"Don't think I shall ever forget that it is to your encouragement, in
large measure, that I owe my present happiness. I hope you will be
often with us; you may keep your eye on me that way and make sure I
measure up to your expectations."
Emerson rolled his eyes heavenward.
"I may take advantage of your invitation," I said cheerfully. "I have
developed quite a taste for archaeology."
I suppose it was the wine that made me feel so giddy. We all waxed
cheerful under its benign influence— all but Emerson, who sat brooding
like a hard stone statue. Finally, when the bottle was empty, Lucas
concluded the fete.
"If all goes well, we shall have a busy day tomorrow. Rest is
advisable. I suggest, gentlemen, that we stand watch tonight. Tomorrow
may bring an end to the mysteries that surround us; let us make sure
no
mishap occurs tonight."
"Just what I was about to suggest," muttered Emerson, shooting a
piercing glance at Lucas. "Which
watch would you prefer, my lord?"
Lucas replied with a shrug. It was arranged that he should remain on
guard for the first three hours of the night, Emerson for the second
watch, and Walter for the remainder. I carried Evelyn off to our
sleeping chamber; she was in such a fog her feet seemed not to touch
the ground, and after a few incoherent exclamations of gratitude and
joy, she quickly fell asleep.
I was drowsy myself, unusually so, for the hour was still early; yet my
drooping eyelids obstinately refused to remain shut. Some indefinable
nagging discomfort kept forcing them open. The discomfort was purely
mental; I had become inured by then to the hard mattress and the other
rugged accompaniments to camping out. There is nothing more abominable
than being in a state of bodily exhaustion and mental irritation; I was
too lethargic to get up and seek some means of occupying my mind, but I
was too uneasy to fall asleep. Try as I might, I could not pin down the
cause of my uneasiness. We were, of course, in danger of a nocturnal
visit from a
singularly unpleasant apparition, but that was not what bothered me; I
was becoming accustomed to that worry, it was like a familiar ache in a
particular tooth. I thought if it continued much longer I should
probably become quite accustomed to it. No, this was another sort of
twinge; I could not locate it. I ought to have been in a state of
peaceful triumph; I had won out over Emerson and attained what I most
desired for the girl who was so dear to me—
Had I won out, though?
The more I recalled Emerson's behavior and speech that day, the more I
wondered. It was almost as if
he had been working to attain the same
end; everything he had said was a spur, a prick, a goad, to urge his
brother on to a declaration. I ground my teeth together. If Emerson
wanted Evelyn for his brother,
he must have some ulterior motive that
escaped me.
There came a sound, at the entrance to the tomb chamber. The curtain
was lifted. I rolled over. The rough mattress crackled. "Who is it?" I
whispered. "Lucas, is that you?"
"Yes. What is wrong, Miss Amelia?
Can't you sleep?" With a gigantic effort I dragged myself from bed and
assumed my dressing gown. Evelyn was still sleeping sweetly. I tiptoed
to the doorway.
"I can't sleep," I said softly. "Perhaps I am too tired. And you,
Lucas? Did you have some reason for looking in just now?"
"I don't know.... I am strangely uneasy tonight. I heard you stirring,
and was afraid...."
"I am uneasy too."
I joined him on the ledge. The night was perfect. The world dreamed
peacefully under the moon. The
air felt cool; I shivered, and drew my
dressing gown close around my throat.
"You ought to sleep," Lucas said. "Perhaps another glass of wine is
what you need."
"Lucas, you are not drinking more wine? Surely that is
unwise."
"I am not made of iron," Lucas said; his voice was so savage I
recoiled. "I will do what must be done;
but allow me something with
which to fortify myself. Come; I insist that you join me."
Fool that I was! I felt sorry for him. His genuine emotion seemed more
pathetic to me than the theatrics he had shown earlier. He was pouring
the wine when Emerson came out of his chamber and advanced upon us.
"A party, and you did not invite me?" he said. "Or am I interrupting a
more personal meeting?"
"Don't be any more foolish than you can help," I said. My last words
were muffled in a huge yawn.
"Oh, dear, I am so tired. I don't know why
I can't sleep."
"Evelyn seems to be the only one with a clear conscience," said Lucas,
snapping his teeth together. "Or
is the lucky man sleeping too?"
"Yes,"
Emerson said. "Walter is asleep."
"And why not you? It is too early for
you to relieve me."
"Still, you may as well retire now that I am here.
There is no point in all of us being awake. Sometimes
I never go to bed
at all. This seems to be one of those nights. I don't know why they
happen," said Emerson musingly. "It is unaccountable. But I feel just
now as if I should never want to sleep again."
I knew then that something was badly wrong; and that Emerson was aware
of it. His idiotic speech was an unconvincing lie; his lids were half
closed, his shoulders drooped; and now that I looked at him more
closely, I saw that his thick black hair was damp, as if he had been
pouring water on it... to keep awake?
I had employed a similar trick
myself, the preceding night. All my senses prickled in alarm.
"Oh, very well," Lucas said sulkily. "Since I am of no use, I may as
well remove myself and finish my bottle in private— unless I can
persuade you two to join me in a glass? No? Good
night, then. I have no desire to go into that stifling hole of a tomb;
I shall sleep in the tent down below, and you, my gallant Emerson, can
waken me with a shout if we have unexpected visitors."
Cradling the wine bottle in his arms, he staggered down the path. I had
not realized he was so intoxicated. Was that what Emerson feared— that
Lucas would fail as a guard because of his drinking?
The moment he was out of sight, Emerson turned on me and dragged me up
out of the chair into which
I had slumped. He shook me till my head
rolled and my hair came loose from the net.
"Wake up, Peabody! If you fall asleep, I shall slap you till you howl.
Curse it, don't you understand that we have been drugged?"
"Drugged?" I repeated stupidly. "I have been fighting sleep myself for
an hour, and a hard fight it was. Have you nothing in that medicine box
of yours to counteract the effects of laudanum?" I tried to think.
Something was certainly dulling my mind. "My smelling salts," I said,
with an effort. "They are extremely strong -----"
"Oh, damnation," said Emerson. "A pretty picture that will be! Well,
it's better than nothing. Go fetch them. Hurry."
To hurry was impossible. I could barely drag myself along. But I found
the smelling salts, and men had
a look at Evelyn. A single glance told
me Emerson was right. She was sleeping too soundly. I shook her,
without effect. Either she had received a larger dose of the drug, or
her delicate constitution was more susceptible to it man mine. It would
be difficult to awaken her.
I applied the bottle to my own nose. It was certainly effective.
Feeling much more alert, I hastened back to Emerson, who was leaning up
against the cliff with his arms and legs at strange angles and his eyes
slightly crossed. I thrust the bottle at him. He started back, banging
his head against the rock,
and made several profane remarks.
Other books
Galaxy's Edge Magazine: Issue 4: September 2013 by Mike Resnick [Editor]
Sookie and The Snow Chicken by Aspinall, Margaret
Journey of Honor A love story by Hawkes, Jaclyn M.
Apache Fire by Raine Cantrell
A Purrfect Romance by Bronston, J.M.
Police and Thieves: A Novel by Peter Plate
Undone, Volume 1 by Callie Harper
The Titanic Murders by Max Allan Collins
Endangered by Lamar Giles
The Other Boy by Hailey Abbott