Seeing a Large Cat (38 page)

"He was going about it entirely the wrong way," Nefret interrupted. "As you ought to know."

His attempt at distraction had succeeded. Her blue eyes were clear, her face unshadowed.

"What do you mean? " he asked.

"My dear boy! Don't you realize that Dolly is hot on your trail because you are indifferent to her? Not that you aren't tall and handsome and frightfully attractive to women and all the rest," she added amiably. "But it is the challenge that spurs her on. If you could bring yourself to appear attracted to her-"

"No," said Ramses without hesitation.

"Well, never mind. We will rid ourselves of her and her father, and in the meantime David and I will protect you."

"Thank you. Do you mind if we get back to the subject of Tollington?"

"Not at all, my boy. Since Tollington was Dutton, his aim could not have been to impress Dolly. What he wanted," said Nefret with assurance, "was to get you off by yourself in some isolated spot. A duel does require an isolated spot, I assume."

"Quite," said Ramses.

"He would not have been alone." David spoke for the first time.

"Poor David, you can hardly get a word in when we are both talking." Nefret smiled at him. "No, you would have been with him, of course. A proper duel requires seconds. I wonder who he would have... Oh, but I am being silly. He would have come alone."

"You see, that explanation makes no sense either," Ramses said. "He could not hope to overpower both of us, and we would be on the alert for an ambush."

"As you were at Luxor Temple? "

"As we were at Luxor Temple. I had written Tollington asking for that meeting. I made a point of shaking hands with him next day, after which my suspicions of him were strengthened. His was not the hand of an idle man about town; it was hard and callused."

"Then why the devil didn't you tell someone?" Nefret demanded.

"I am telling you now," Ramses said meekly. "Remember, Nefret, that then I had no proof. A vague sense of recognition is not admissible as evidence, and he might have acquired the calluses from playing polo or some other gentlemanly sport. All this leaves the primary question unanswered. What does he want with me? "

"Hmm." Nefret moved to the bed and settled herself more comfortably on a pile of cushions. "The obvious answer is that he wants you out of his way so he can get to Dolly."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," Ramses said. "Except for the first incident in the Ezbekieh, Scudder doesn't know it was I who got in his way. On the second and third occasions I was Saiyid, and if you tell me he recognized me despite my disguise, I will be extremely hurt and offended."

Nefret grinned at him. "I would never want to hurt or offend you, dear boy. I believe you are right; and if you are, it means that Scudder has no motive for wanting to injure you."

"It means," Ramses corrected, "that if he has a motive for wishing to injure me, we have yet to ascertain what it is. The incident at Luxor Temple still puzzles me. I said nothing in my letter to indicate I was suspicious of him; I only suggested a private meeting. It may have been an accident. The confounded place is falling apart, like most of the other temples in Egypt."

"If he still wants to see you, he will try to get in touch with you," Nefret said.

"How? We have made it virtually impossible for him to do so. He would not risk coming here, there are too many people in and around the house. Approaching the dahabeeyah would be almost as dangerous, with Bellingham watching for him."

"It is a good thing you finally got round to asking my advice," Nefret said. "You seem to have forgot something."

"I seem to have forgot a good many things."

"Good Gad, how Aunt Amelia would stare to hear you admit it!" She leaned forward, her smile fading, and said seriously, "What you have forgot is that Dutton has communicated with us on several occasions by writing to us. If he wants to see you, he will send a written message-and you, my boy, will have to wait for it since you don't know his current address.

"You have overlooked something else, I believe. His primary target is still Colonel Bellingham. The Colonel also received a written message from him, remember? "

"Good Lord!" Ramses stared at her. "The one purporting to come from Mother, summoning Bellingham to the tomb? Confound it, I had forgot. He may write again. If he does, and Bellingham responds . . . Curse it, I should be watching the Colonel. I should be on watch now!"

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because," said Nefret smugly, "you promised your mother you would not leave the house tonight."

"Yes, of course," Ramses said. He turned his chair and him self and seated himself with his arms folded across the back. "How could I have overlooked that little detail? "

"I, on the other hand..."

Ramses stiffened like a cobra rising to strike. "Do you suppose I will allow you to do that? "

"Allow?" She gave him back stare for cold stare. "Try asking me, Ramses. Say 'please.'"

"Please. Please, Nefret, stay in the house."

"All right."

He relaxed with a long exhalation of breath, and Nefret smiled. "Do you see how easy it is? Now listen to me, Ramses-and you too, David. I have several ideas about Mr. Dutton Scudder that I believe you will find interesting, but I am not going to say a cursed word until you agree to stop treating me like a brainless, helpless child."

"Nefret!" David protested. "I never- "

"You aren't as bad as Ramses," Nefret admitted. "But both of you do it. Look here-" She leaned forward, her face softening. "I understand that you care about me and you don't want me to be hurt. Well, how the devil do you suppose I feel about you two? Do you suppose I enjoy sitting with folded hands, worrying myself sick when you are in danger? Aunt Amelia doesn't put up with that sort of nonsense from the Professor. I will not put up with it either."

"That sounds like an ultimatum," said Ramses. "What happens if we refuse to agree? "

"I make life very, very unpleasant for you," said Nefret.

Ramses lowered his head onto his folded arms.

"How dare you laugh at me?" Nefret demanded. "Curse you, Ramses-"

"/ apologize." He raised his head. His face was flushed. "I couldn't help it, you sounded so fierce and looked so . . . All right, Nefret. Your arguments are incontrovertible and your threats too terrifying to contemplate. I cannot promise to exhibit the fortitude Father displays with regard to Mother; he has had a good many years of practice. But I will do my best."

"Shake hands on it." She offered a hand to each of them.

"All for one and one for all," David said, smiling.

"Now," said Ramses, "what about Dutton Scudder? "

Chapter Thirteen

There are occasions upon which a candid expression of opinion may be not only rude, but counterproductive.

Cyrus's carriage delivered Mrs. Jones to our door early the following morning. I observed she was wearing a sensible tweed costume and stout walking shoes instead of the ecru lace frock of the previous evening. I drew no conclusions from this. Cyrus might have caused her to be met at the ferry landing. At dawn.

I was the first one dressed, as I usually am; and since I am fond of watching the sun rise over the eastern cliffs, I was seated on the verandah when the lady arrived. She looked a trifle out of spirits. I asked her if she had had second thoughts. She replied without hesitation that she had not; but she said no more and sat looking out across the river while she sipped the tea Ahmet had brought.

As the light strengthened, the landscape seemed to spring into existence, fresh and new born. The red, rising sun glinted on the water. Across the river the distant cliffs of the high desert turned from gray to violet to pale rose. The broad brim of her hat cast a shadow across the upper half of her face so that the firmness of her tight-closed lips and prominent chin was even more pronounced. After a time she said quietly, as if to herself, "One would never tire of this."

"That depends on one's point of view," I replied.

"Practical as always, Mrs. Emerson." She turned to face me. The hint of melancholy I had observed-or fancied I had observed-had been replaced by her feline smile.

"I am not immune to poetic fancies, Mrs. Jones, but there is a time and a place for them. I hear the others, and I believe breakfast is on the table. Shall we go in?"

The ones I had heard were Nefret and Emerson. He was helping her into her chair when we entered the room, and he acknowledged Mrs. Jones with a genial if banal greeting.

"Bright and early, I see. Very commendable."

We had finished our porridge before the boys appeared, in tandem as always. I gave Ramses a suspicious look. In my opinion the removal of the mustache had improved his appearance, for it made his resemblance to his father more apparent, and Emerson is the handsomest of men. It had not made his countenance any easier to read, but the signs of sleeplessness were evident to the fond eye of a mother.

"Did you go out last night?" I asked.

"I promised you I would not, Mother."

"That does not answer my question."

"I did not leave the house last night." He tossed a sheaf of papers onto the table and seated himself. "I was working. You asked about the dream papyrus, I believe? There is my translation if you would care to read it."

I picked up the papers, and Mrs. Jones said curiously, "A dream papyrus? I was not aware of such a thing."

"It is a rather obscure text," Ramses said, politely passing her the marmalade. "Uncle Walter obtained photographs of it last year from the British Museum, and was kind enough to lend them to me."

I had been puzzling over Ramses's handwriting, which bore a distressing resemblance to the hieratic of the original text. Down the left margin of the pages ran the repeated words "If a man sees himself in a dream." This introductory phrase was followed in each case by a brief description: "killing an ox," "writing on a palette," "drinking blood," and "capturing a female slave" were some of them. The interpretation consisted of the words "good" or "bad," followed by a short explanation.

"Some of it is straightforward enough," I said. "Capturing a female slave is good. 'It means something from which he will have satisfaction.' One might reasonably suppose so. But why 'eating excrement' should be good... Oh. 'It means eating his possessions in his house.'"

"Fascinating," said Mrs. Jones. "If you will allow me, Mrs. Emerson, I would like to take a copy. It would add a certain cachet to my work if I were able to interpret dreams according to ancient Egyptian dogma."

"You will have to be selective," I said dryly. "There is one about uncovering . . . Dear me! Why would anyone dream of doing that with a pig?"

"Is it good or bad?" Nefret inquired innocently.

"Bad. It means being deprived of possessions."

I read out some of the others-omitting the vulgar ones- to the amusement, if not the edification, of my companions. Nefret seemed especially intrigued, and when I read out the one about seeing oneself veiled, she exclaimed, "How odd! I dreamed last night that I was playing the role of Princess Tasherit, draped in muslin and cheesecloth. What does it signify, Aunt Amelia?"

"Obviously," said Emerson, who had listened with the tolerant smile of a man superior to idle fancies, "you are still smarting over being deprived of the part."

In my opinion-and that of Professor Freud, whose works I

had read with interest-it signified that she was trying to conceal something. Since I did not want to embarrass her, I read out the Egyptian interpretation. "It means removing enemies from your presence."

"Good," Nefret said, laughing.

"Enough of this nonsense," Emerson said. He tossed his serviette onto the table. "I am off to the tomb. Is anyone coming with me?"

"I will join you later, Emerson," I replied. "You know Mrs. Jones and I intend to call on Colonel Bellingham this morning."

Ramses indicated that, with his father's permission, he would take David and Nefret across to Luxor Temple to get on with the photography.

"So long as that is your real purpose," said Emerson, giving his son a sharp look. "Try not to let anyone drop a rock on you."

"I will do my best, sir," said Ramses.

"Or on Nefret."

"I will do my best," Ramses repeated, glancing at his sister.

As courtesy demanded I dispatched a messenger to the Colonel, announcing our intention of calling on him at what might seem to some an outrageously early hour. I had pleaded the urgency of the matter as an excuse, but the truth is, I wanted to get the business over and done with. I had another errand to do that morning, and I was anxious to get back to Emerson and the tomb. After observing the dangerous condition of the passageway I did not like him working there without me. Another excavator might have left the dirty work to the men, but that was not Emerson's way.

I was uneasy in my mind. The sensation was familiar to me; always in the past it had presaged danger. What made it worse this time was that my hostages to fortune were scattered. How could I watch over all of them when they kept wandering off in different directions, doing different things, and-I strongly suspected-not telling me what they were thinking and planning?

At least the children would be together. I thought I could count on Ramses to keep Nefret out of trouble; his old-fashioned notions of chivalry annoyed her a great deal, but if they kept her safe, I was prepared to condone them.

After Emerson had gone off we had to wait for at least another hour, since it was only a little past six A.M. I occupied the time by showing Mrs. Jones round the house and waiting for the children to go away. They were all annoyingly polite that morning. Nefret accompanied us, chatting cheerfully about domestic arrangements, and Ramses offered to introduce Mrs. Jones to the horses. While we were in the stable I managed to draw Ramses aside.

"Watch over Nefret today," I said in a low voice. "Tell David."

"Is something wrong?" His eyes narrowed.

"No. At least I hope not."

"Ah. One of your famous premonitions." He touched my hand, which rested on the rail. It was only the briefest brush of his fingertips, but from that source it was equivalent to a comforting pat. "Try not to worry, Mother. She thinks she is watching over me and David, you know."

"Perhaps she is right."

"No doubt she is," Ramses said, and turned away.

At last they got off, and since Mrs. Jones was not dressed for riding horseback I commandeered two of the little donkeys. As we trotted off side by side, I decided it was time to propose another idea to her. I had hesitated about doing so, but had concluded that a woman who earned her living communicating with the dead would not balk at a spot of spying.

"Read his letters?" She stared at me in surprise.

"Not all of them. Only the suspicious ones."

"But my dear Mrs. Emerson-" A sudden jolt (for the pace of a donkey is extremely uneven, especially when it does not want to be ridden) made her clutch at her hat. "How am I to know what is suspicious and what is not? You can hardly suppose he will leave his private correspondence lying about where I can get at it."

"Especially the suspicious messages," I admitted. "Perhaps I ought to be more specific."

"Pray do," said Mrs. Jones, looking amused.

"What I expect is that Scudder will communicate with him by letter, as he has done once before. He may sign his own name or a false one. The object of the message, whomever it purports to be from, will be to lure the Colonel into an ambush. I don't really suppose you will get the chance to read any such message. Only watch him; observe any unusual behavior. If, for example, he suddenly announces he must go out-"

"I see what you are getting at. Frankly, Mrs. Emerson, I think it is a farfetched idea, but supposing I should observe something of the sort, what do you want me to do? Follow him?"

"Good Gad, no. That would be impractical as well as dangerous. Several of our crewmen are always on board the Amelia; I will warn them to be on the lookout for a signal from you. If you see anything that rouses your suspicions, wave...." I looked her over. "I commend your taste in fashion, Mrs. Jones, but I could wish you went in for brighter colors. Take my scarf."

It was a vivid crimson-Emerson's favorite color. I untied it from round my throat and handed it to her. "Wave this from the deck, and one of the men will find me. I doubt anything interesting will happen before late afternoon. Dutton will want darkness for his evil purposes."

"Of course." She smiled. One could almost see the whiskers.

The Colonel was expecting us. He and Dolly were at breakfast when the servant showed us into the saloon. Sunlight sparkled on crystal glasses and silver tableware. Cyrus's taste in such matters was irreproachable, but I observed that the mahogany sideboard badly wanted polishing and that the gold damask draperies were in need of repair. What the place needed was a woman's hand.

Dolly had not been long out of her bed; her curls were in disarray and her eyes were heavy. She was wearing a peignoir, a fluffy mass of pale blue chiffon. The Colonel, impeccably garbed in his usual black, rose to greet us and offered us breakfast.

"We breakfasted several hours ago," I replied. "Again I apologize, Colonel Bellingham, for disturbing you, but I felt you would want to be apprised of the situation at the earliest possible moment. You have not, I believe, found a lady to watch over your daughter? Mrs. Jones is at liberty and is, I can confidently state, eminently qualified for the position."

As I have said, I was in something of a hurry that morning, and I have never seen any point in wasting time. The Colonel was visibly disconcerted. Many persons react to me in that way, so I waited politely for his slower wits to catch up, and accepted, with a smile and a murmured, "Skoukran," the cup of coffee offered me by Cyrus's steward.

After a brief interval the Colonel said, "I was momentarily struck dumb by your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Emerson. I am acquainted with Mrs. Jones, but I was under the impression that she was travelling with friends."

Sitting bolt upright in her chair, gloved hands folded in her lap, Mrs. Jones squinted amiably at him. She conveyed the impression of requiring spectacles she was too vain to wear, and her neat tweed costume and dowdy hat absolutely exuded respectability. In a soft voice she explained that her companions had decided to return home and that she was desirous of remaining in Egypt for a few more weeks. With a deprecating little cough, she added, "Mr. and Mrs. Fraser would, of course, have assisted me financially, but I could not accept favors from friends. I have always made my own way in the world, Colonel Bellingham, sir, and my religious beliefs demand that I be of use to my fellow creatures."

I wanted very badly to laugh, but of course dared not. The matter was soon settled. Mrs. Jones explained that she had been a governess and a teacher, but that she had not, naturally, brought references with her; the Colonel replied, as he had no choice but to reply, that my recommendation was enough. I had to suppress another chuckle when Mrs. Jones haggled, genteelly but firmly, over her salary, and got the Colonel to agree to ten pounds more than he had originally offered. Her performance was perfect. The Colonel was completely taken in and visibly relieved.

Miss Dolly was taken in and not at all pleased. She studied the neat little figure of Mrs. Jones through narrowed eyes, and I could almost read her thoughts. She would not be able to bully this woman as she had some of the others, and Mrs. Jones's air of pseudo-respectability augured poorly for the chance of any escapades.

My opinion of Mrs. Jones went up again when she set about extracting information. "You will be leaving Egypt in two weeks, then?" she inquired-a reasonable question, since that had been the term of her engagement.

"It may be sooner," was the reply. "You may depend on the full amount being paid you in any case. How soon can you begin?"

"This very moment, if you like. With your permission I will send one of your servants to fetch my luggage, and then Miss Bellingham and I will think of something jolly to do today!"

I made haste to excuse myself. The expression on Dolly's face as she contemplated a day of jolly activities with Mrs. Jones was too much for my sobriety.

I had to contain my laughter a little longer, for the Colonel escorted me to the gangplank. It was not until I found myself alone with him that I recollected my primary reason for coming. Mrs. Jones's performance had been so enjoyable, I had almost forgot.

I was in greater haste than ever now, so I cut his thanks short "There is one more thing I feel obliged to say to you, Colonel, and I hope you will excuse me for being blunt. I am in a hurry, and the subject is not one that lends itself to tact. It has to do with my ward, Miss Forth. Should you contemplate paying her attentions of a romantic nature, dismiss the idea at once. Such attentions would not be welcomed."