Seeing a Large Cat (16 page)

"That will have to do," Emerson said at last, gesturing to David to put his pencils away. "You can make a detailed water-color tonight, at the house, before I unwrap . .." He hesitated for a moment and then said gruffly, "it."

"How are you going to get her-it-there?" I asked.

"Carry it, of course," was the reply. "The jolting of a carriage or wagon might damage it."

"Past all those staring tourists?"

"If you can think of an alternative, I will be happy to consider it."

I remained silent, and Emerson said, "They won't see anything except a wooden box, Peabody. I brought blankets to cushion and cover it."

I had seen the pile of blankets and wondered what we were going to use for coverings that night. If Emerson thought he was going to put them straight back on the beds, he was mistaken.

However, the decision had been made, and indeed he had had little choice. There was no way of knowing how fragile the remains might be until we attempted to lift them.

Watching me, Emerson said, "Get up there and do what you can to disperse the mob, Peabody. Nefret, go with your aunt Amelia and tell Ibrahim to bring the coffin-box, I should say."

I knew why he was sending me away, and I did not envy him the task that lay ahead-gathering the dull dead hair in his hands, lifting the slight form-and hoping it would hold together. Thus far none of us had ventured to touch that still shape; for all we knew, the slightest touch might cause it to crumble. Moving it might be as dangerous, but it could not be examined properly under those conditions, and to leave it there was impossible. Emerson had taken all the precautions he could.

Nefret followed me without comment, although ordinarily she would have objected to being dismissed. She was accustomed to mummies and corpses-our family seems to encounter a good many of them-but there was something about this set of remains that affected her painfully, as it did me. She was a little pale, but the color rushed back into her face when she saw the people crowded behind the makeshift barrier the men had constructed from sticks and rope. "Ghouls," she muttered.

"Be fair," I replied. "They don't know what is there, and this is not private property. I am going to tell them to take themselves off, but I will do it courteously and-" "Hell and damnation!" Nefret exclaimed. I could hardly scold her for bad language when I had been on the verge of employing it myself. The news had spread more rapidly than I had hoped it would, but it was pure bad luck-or so I supposed-that the Frasers were among those whom it had reached. Why the devil couldn't they have been visiting some remote temple that day?

Donald had bared his head. He was a tall man; his flaming red hair stood high above the crowd. Enid and Mrs. Whitney-Jones flanked him on either side. Both women gripped his arms like prison warders. Mrs. Whitney-Jones's fashionable bronze hat was tipped over one eye, and Enid appeared to be tugging at Donald. His face flushed, his eyes fixed on vacancy, he paid no heed to either.

I ought to have known that Nefret's profane comment had not been prompted by the Frasers, whom she barely knew and with whose strange situation she was then unacquainted. I was still trying to decide what to do about Donald when another voice drew my attention to an additional distraction.

"Will you do me the courtesy, Mrs. Emerson, of telling this native to let me pass?"

The Colonel held Dolly within the protective circle of his arm, as if the girl had been threatened by the native in question-Abdullah's nephew Daoud. Poor Daoud glanced at me in appeal. "Sitt Hakim," he began.

I reassured him with a few phrases in Arabic and addressed Bellingham. "Daoud was obeying orders, Colonel-my orders. What are you doing here?" "Responding to your invitation, Mrs. Emerson." "Invitation?" I repeated in astonishment. "I sent no invitation."

The Colonel glanced at the tourists crowding round, with the look a mastiff might bestow upon a pack of alley cats, and tightened his grasp on Dolly. "Perhaps we might discuss the situation in greater privacy. My daughter, Mrs. Emerson, is not accustomed to being jostled."

I was not feeling as kindly toward the Colonel as I had the previous day, but his surprising statement had aroused my curiosity. "Daoud, you may let them pass."

Dolly slid out of her father's grasp. Raising her parasol-a frivolous piece of frippery quivering with lace-she made me a little curtsey and then sidled up to Nefret. "Good afternoon, Miss Forth. What a fetching costume!"

And what a little cat you are, I thought. In my opinion she had committed a strategic error in emphasizing the contrast in their appearances. Her elaborate attire, from flower-trimmed hat to trailing skirts, made her look like a wax doll. Nefret's boyish garments were dusty and damp with perspiration, but they clung only too becomingly to her slim body, and aggravation gave her cheeks a pretty color.

"Good afternoon," she said shortly. "Excuse me, I must also obey orders."

She put a friendly hand on Daoud's shoulder and addressed him in Arabic. A broad grin spread across his face. With a nod he raised the stick he was holding and assumed a pugilistic posture, side by side with Nefret. In a pungent mixture of Arabic and English she told the audience to go about its business.

Not all the watchers moved away, so I felt obliged to add a few comments of my own. My voice was emphatic, for I was beginning to feel somewhat rattled. There was too much to attend to and very little time. Emerson had taken longer than I had expected to move the body-I hoped it had not disintegrated into bits when he touched it-but he would soon emerge from the tomb, and what he would say when he saw the Bellinghams, not to mention the Frasers, I did not like to think.

The Colonel, hat in hand, awaited my attention, but first I had to deal with the Frasers and Mrs. Whitney-Jones. The lady, wearing a fashionable costume of yellow flannel, appeared less composed than upon the occasion of our first meeting. She continued to tug at Donald, to no avail; he was as immobile as the pharaonic statue he rather resembled, his eyes straight ahead, his arms at his sides. Enid was looking desperately around, as if searching for someone or something. I assumed, naturally, that it was I, so I hastened to approach her.

"I am sorry, Amelia," Enid said in tremulous tones. "I cannot get him to come away."

"No apologies are necessary. I know the whole story, and I am ready and able to deal with the situation."

She had been very pale. Now her cheeks took on color- with relief, I supposed, at finding me willing to help. "You- you know?"

"Yes, my dear, Ramses told me this afternoon about Donald's delusion. I suppose you heard the rumors about our discovery? But never mind that, time is of the essence. You must take him away from here at once. Donald? Donald!" He made not the slightest response, even when I prodded him with my parasol. I shot Mrs. Whitney-Jones a hard look. "This is your doing. Persuade him to go back to the hotel."

The woman was not so easily intimidated. Her chin lifted, and her eyes looked unflinchingly into mine. "Unfounded accusations may render an individual liable to legal action, Mrs. Emerson. I forgive you because you are concerned about your friend, but let me assure you I did not bring him here; I tried to persuade him not to come here; I would like very much to take him away from here. If you can tell me how to accomplish that, I will cooperate to the fullest."

"She did try," Enid said reluctantly. "Amelia, what are we to do?"

I glanced over my shoulder. The Colonel was pacing back and forth, Nefret and Dolly were smiling fixedly at one another, and there were signs of movement around the opening of the tomb. Immediate action was imperative. I seized Donald by the collar and shook him vigorously.

This had the desired effect.

"Mrs. Emerson," he gurgled (for I had a fairly tight hold on his collar). "What-what has happened? Have I done something to annoy you?"

"Yes," I replied. "Go away, Donald. Go away this instant."

But I had delayed too long. Emerson emerged from the tomb, followed by Ramses and David.

The long wooden box had been suspended in a cradle of ropes supported by carrying poles. Some of the blankets must have been used to pad the interior of the box; others had been laid over it, concealing the contents. The very shape of the container was suggestive, however, and a murmur of ghoulish interest arose from the audience.

Emerson stopped. The boys, behind him, also paused. The sight of my husband's majestic form, dominating the scene as he always does, did not on this occasion produce the customary thrill of admiration in me. I knew what was about to transpire and could only curse helplessly (under my breath, of course) and shove at Donald, who was staring, white-faced, at the wooden box.

Then the ambient air was shattered by a mighty cry.

"Peabody!"

I abandoned my ineffectual attempt to budge Donald and hastened to my husband.

"What the devil is going on here?" he demanded. His eyes, blazing with sapphirine fury, moved from Bellingham to Donald, and to the audience, which had surged forward. "Where have these-these people come from? Did you send out invitations?"

"No, my dear. At least I don't think so. Emerson, please calm yourself. The situation has got a little out of hand."

"So I see."

"I did my best, Emerson."

The hard blue eyes softened, and he clasped my shoulders in a brief, comradely embrace. "All right, Peabody. It is a pleasant change to hear you admit incompetence for once. Just keep them back, will you? The sooner we get away from here the better. Come ahead, boys."

I always say no one can clear a path better than Emerson. His emphatic gestures and even more emphatic expressions sent the onlookers scuttling for safety. The boys took a firmer grip on the carrying poles and proceeded, with our men following.

I turned back to Colonel Bellingham.

"I cannot speak with you at the present time, Colonel, I must get on. There is some mystery about this business that will have to be cleared up, but it must wait. You will hear from me in due course."

Instead of answering me he emitted a horrible choking cry. Turning, I saw that Donald had sprung forward. Emerson's mighty arms were quick to seize and hold him fast, but not before he had snatched the covering off the coffin and set it swinging between the suspending ropes. The tourists, held at bay, could not have seen what lay within, but the rest of us were treated to an excellent view of blue silk wrapping and coils of flaxen hair.

Gripped tightly by my enraged and swearing husband, Donald raised an ecstatic face to heaven. "At last!" he cried. "At last! It is she!"

Another, deeper voice echoed his. White to the lips, Bellingham repeated, "It is she! Oh, God-it is she!"

Clutching at his heaving breast, he toppled forward and crashed to the ground.

It was a pleasure to observe the prompt efficiency with which my family responded to this latest emergency. Emerson's reaction was, naturally, the quickest and most effective. He delivered a sharp blow to Donald's jaw, caught the sagging body, and handed it over to two of our men.

"Mahmud, Hassan, take him to his carriage," he ordered. "Any carriage. Commandeer one, if necessary. Mrs. Fraser, remove your husband. Ramses, David-"

The boys had already continued on their way, escorted by Abdullah and Selim, and Nefret was kneeling beside the Colonel, knife in hand. Dolly stood staring down at him; as Nefret's glittering blade touched her father's throat, she emitted a piercing scream.

The knife slid neatly through the layers of the Colonel's shirt, stiff collar, and silk cravat, and Nefret said without looking up, "Keep the damned girl quiet, Aunt Amelia, can you? I almost cut the poor man's throat when she let out that howl."

"Certainly," I said. "Dolly, if you scream again, I will slap you. Is it a seizure, Nefret?"

She had bared his chest and pressed her ear against it. "He is pale, not flushed. His heart, perhaps."

Emerson stood beside me, hands on his hips, brow furrowed. "Curse it," he said. "Why does this sort of thing always happen to me? One would suppose people might have the decency to die somewhere else."

I knew Emerson's good heart too well to take this callous speech literally. Like myself, he had seen that the color was returning to the Colonel's face and that his eyes had opened. They gazed, not at us, but at the golden head that rested on his breast.

"The beat is steadier," Nefret said.

She sat back on her heels. The Colonel's hand moved in a feeble attempt to adjust his clothing. She drew the cloth back into place and smiled at him.

"You are better, sir, aren't you? I am sorry to have spoiled your nice cravat, but it was necessary."

"You are ... a physician?" he asked weakly.

"Oh, no. We should take him to a doctor as soon as possible, don't you think, Aunt Amelia?"

I was beginning to share Emerson's vexation at people who were constantly collapsing on the premises. However, common decency as well as the duty of a Christian woman made me keep this opinion to myself.

I administered a medicinal sip of brandy from the flask I carry with me, and the Colonel, supported by Emerson's brawny arms, rose shakily to his feet. "Where is your carriage?" Emerson asked. "And your dragoman?"

A man who had been standing quietly among the watchers came forward. He had the dark skin of a Nubian and the prominent aquiline nose of an Arab. His other features were concealed by a grizzled beard and mustache. "I am the servant of the Howadji, Father of Curses."

"Then why the devil aren't you looking out for him?" Emerson demanded.

"He told me to stay at a distance from him and the young Sitt unless he called to me."

"Hmph," said Emerson. "Well-what is your name?" "Mohammed."

"I have not seen you before. Are you a Luxor man?" "No, Father of Curses. I come from Aswan." "Well, Mohammed, take the Howadji to his carriage." "Wait," the Colonel said faintly. "Dolly ..." Nefret drew me aside. Her face was troubled. "Aunt Amelia, we cannot let them go back to the hotel alone," she whispered. "Unless they have found someone since last night, she has not even a maid to help her. She isn't fit to look after him, and if he is right about her being in danger, he isn't fit to watch over her. I could accompany them-" "Not under any circumstances!" I exclaimed. Her little chin stiffened. "Something must be done." "I agree." I turned back to Emerson, who was beginning to look somewhat uneasy. He claims to despise all religions, but his moral standards are superior to those of most people who call themselves Christians-if he takes the time to think about them. He had taken the time; he scowled but did not even swear under his breath when I ordered the dragoman Mohammed to take his employer to our house.