Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (155 page)

‘I had booked them for a month and paid in advance. Besides,’ Enid added, with a wry smile, ‘I imagine he would have difficulty finding someone who was willing to inhabit them just now. I confess I do not look forward to sleeping in that bed. If you are remaining in Cairo for a few days, perhaps Ramses–’

‘I would be more than happy,’ declared Ramses.

I exchanged glances with Emerson. ‘We will think about it, Enid. In the meantime–’

‘In the meantime, I hope you will be my guests for luncheon,’ Enid said. ‘I have not quite enough courage to walk into the dining salon alone.’

Naturally we agreed. I excused myself long enough to retrieve and destroy the letter I had left for Emerson the day before, and then joined the others. We had hardly taken our seats when Mr Baehler came to the table. He apologized for disturbing our meal. ‘But this message was just left for you, and since it is marked ‘Urgent,’ I thought–’

‘Ah,’ I said, reaching for the letter. ‘You were quite right to bring it at once, Mr Baehler.’

‘It is directed to Professor Emerson,’ Baehler said.

‘How extraordinary,’ I exclaimed.

‘What do you mean, extraordinary?’ Emerson demanded. ‘I have many acquaintances in Cairo who …’ He perused the letter. ‘Extraordinary,’ he muttered.

Baehler departed, and Emerson handed me the letter. It was, as I had suspected, from Mr Gregson. ‘Professor,’ it read. ‘I will be at the Café Orientale at twelve noon sharp. Do not fail me. Matters are approaching a climax, and if you wish to avert the peril threatening a person near and dear to you, you must hear what I have learned.’

‘I knew it,’ I said triumphantly. ‘That proves you are mistaken, Ramses; if Mr Gregson had any designs on me, he would not invite your father to be present. WE must go at once; it is almost twelve.’

Emerson pressed me back into my chair. ‘You are not mentioned in the invitation, Amelia,’ he said.

‘But, Emerson–’

‘It is a trap,’ squeaked Ramses. ‘There is some diabolical mystery in this; I beg you, Mama–’

‘Please, Amelia, don’t leave me.’ Enid added her entreaties to those of the others. ‘I had counted on your support later this afternoon, when I go to police headquarters to give my statement.’

‘I tell you, Mama, it is a trap,’ Ramses insisted.

‘If it is, I am forewarned and shall be forearmed,’ Emerson declared. ‘Amelia, you must guard Miss Debenham. She will be especially vulnerable when she leaves the hotel. This could be a ruse, to lure us away and leave her unprotected.’

‘I had not thought of that,’ I admitted. ‘Very well, Emerson; your argument has convinced me.’

‘I thought it might,’ Emerson said, rising.

‘Don’t go alone, Emerson,’ I begged.

‘Of course not. Ramses will go with me.’

That was not what I had had in mind, but before I could say so, Ramses and his father had left us.

‘I would feel very bad if I thought my selfish needs had caused you to neglect a more important duty,’ Enid said anxiously. ‘Do you believe they are going into danger?’

‘No. Were that the case, I am afraid I would choose to neglect you instead. For you know, Enid, that my dear Emerson and I are joined by bonds of affection of the strongest kind. I would be the first to rush to his side if peril threatened him.’

‘Or Ramses.’

‘Oh yes, or Ramses, of course. The fact that I can sit here and quietly sip my soup’ – which I proceeded to do, the waiter having brought the first course as we conversed– ‘testifies to my perfect confidence in Mr Gregson. Just think, Enid, when Emerson returns he may have in his possession the evidence that will clear Donald.’

Enid’s eager questions prompted me to explain more fully about Mr Gregson’s involvement in the case. She had not heard the full story, and as she listened she began to look grave.

‘Of course I am only an ignorant girl, with little experience in such things,’ she said hesitantly. ‘But I have never heard of this Mr Gregson. He said he was a famous detective?’

‘Famous in his own circles, I presume he meant,’ I replied. ‘People in that line of work have reason to remain inconspicuous.’

‘No doubt that is true,’ Enid said.

The dining salon was filling rapidly. We had been among the first ones there, since Enid’s appointment with the police was for one o’clock. I watched the entering guests, wondering if ‘Mrs Axhammer’ would dare to make an appearance. She did not, but before long I saw another familiar form – that of Viscount Everly. He was alone, and for the first time since I had met him he was wearing proper morning dress instead of a bizarre costume. His eyes met mine, and after a moment of hesitation, he squared his shoulders, and approached.

‘Er–’ he began.

‘Don’t dither, young man,’ I said. ‘If you have any sensible remark to make, make it.’

‘Well, ma’am, it’s deuced difficult to do that with you looking at a chap as if he’d stolen your handbag,’ said the viscount plaintively. ‘It puts a chap off, you know.’

‘I am attempting, your lordship, to ascertain the colour of your eyes.’

The young man shied back, but not before I had discovered what I wanted to know. His eyes were an indeterminate shade of muddy brownish-grey, with flecks of green … It would have been hard to say what colour they were, but at least I was certain they were not black.

Enid stared at me in bewilderment, but I did not explain. I must confess I sometimes enjoy little mystifications of that nature. ‘Sit down, your lordship,’ I said. ‘I presume you wish to offer your condolences to Miss Debenham on the death of her kinsman?’

‘He said he was her affianced husband,’ said Everly, taking a chair.

‘He was mistaken,’ Enid said shortly.

‘Well, er – in any case – deuced sorry, you know. He was a fine chap – splendid shot – held his whisky… . No, forget that.’

‘Had you known him long?’ I asked.

‘Never met the fellow before I came to Cairo. Seemed a good sort. Ran into him at the Turf Club.’

‘And how did you know he was dead?’

I meant to catch him off guard, but he replied with prompt and ingenuous candour. ‘Why, it’s all over the city, you know. And besides, I was the one who told Gorst yesterday that he was missing and that I feared foul play.’

‘You!’ I exclaimed.

‘Why, yes.’ The viscount leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table, pulling the cloth askew and setting my wineglass rocking. He caught it before more than a few drops had spilled. ‘See that?’ he exclaimed proudly. ‘Quick as a conjurer! What was I talking about?’

‘You informed the police yesterday …’

‘Oh, right. It was last evening that he disappeared, you see. Smack out of his room at Mena House, while we were waiting for him to join us for dinner. Sent a waiter up to fetch him when he didn’t turn up; room in a shambles, tables overturned, drawers pulled out – deuced exciting! Well, it was sure there’d been a struggle, and he didn’t come back, and … I happened to run into Sir Eldon later, and mentioned it to him. Thought it was the least I could do.’

As I listened to his semi-coherent statement and studied his lax, undistinguished features, I could not imagine what had prompted Emerson to suspect him of being a genius of crime. Nor could Emerson accuse me of being careless and taking foolish chances in speaking with him; for what could even a desperate and brilliant criminal do to me in a crowded dining salon in the most popular hotel in Cairo?

I was soon to find out.

There were no preliminary warning symptoms, such as giddiness or nausea. The only thing I remember is seeing his lordship, still seated in his chair, suddenly rush away from me at the speed of an express train, until he was no larger than a bumblebee. I felt my chin strike the table and felt nothing more.

I dreamed the same strange dream. Every detail matched the first – the soft couch on which I reclined, the walls draped with rosy silk, the marble floor, the tinkling fountain. Knowing I would soon wake at Emerson’s side, I lay in drowsy content enjoying the voluptuous beauty of my surroundings. The ceiling above me was swathed in folds of soft fabric like the roof of a sultan’s tent; from it hung silver lamps that shed a soft and tender light upon the scene. Lazily I turned my head. It was there, just as I had seen it before – the low table of ebony and mother-of-pearl, the bowl filled with oranges and nectarines, grapes and plums. Only the wine decanter and crystal goblets were missing.

Musingly I pondered the possible significance of such a recurring dream. Further study of the subject suggested itself. I resolved to take advantage of the prolongation of this vision to explore the ambience more thoroughly, so I swung my feet off the couch and stood up.

A wave of giddiness sent me reeling back onto the cushions. But it was not that unpleasant sensation so much as the cool marble against the soles of my bare feet that brought the shocking truth home to me. This was not a dream. I was here, in the flesh – and someone had had the audacity to remove my boots!

And my tools! They were the first things I reached for; the dizziness had passed, and I was fully alert and capable of reasoning logically. Logic quickly informed me of the full horror of my situation. How he had abducted me in broad daylight from a crowded hotel I did not know, but I had no doubt of his identity. Only Sethos could be so bold; only he could carry out such a daring plot. And he was – he must be – the vapid viscount! The little trick with the wineglass, so deftly performed, had given him an opportunity to drug my wine. Emerson had been right and I had been wrong. The only consolation was that Ramses had been wrong too.

My heart was beating rather more rapidly than was comfortable, but the emotion that tingled through me was not so much fear as intense determination, mingled, I confess, with a burning curiosity. Was I at last to come face to face with the enigmatic personage whose exploits had aroused in me both repugnance and a certain unwilling admiration? There is, all critics agree, a dark grandeur in Milton’s Satan; his local emissary could not but inspire a degree of the same respect.

Without moving from my seat, I took stock of the situation. Now I understood the absence of the crystal glasses and decanter I had seen in my dream. There was not a single object in the room that could be used as a weapon. My tools and my parasol had been taken, my pistol had been removed from its holster; even the heavy boots were gone from my feet. I saw no mirrors, no vases, no glass objects of any kind, whose shattered shards could be used to strike at an enemy or slash a vein. A grim smile, worthy of Emerson himself, crossed my lips. If Sethos feared I would attempt self-destruction in order to cheat him of his revenge, he underestimated me.

The drug had left me extremely thirsty, but I was afraid to taste the delectable fruit or drink the water from the fountain, though a delicate silver cup had been provided. Rising cautiously to my feet, I was pleased to find that I experienced no recurrence of the giddiness. A hasty circuit of the chamber revealed what I had expected. The windows, concealed behind filmy draperies, were shuttered and bolted. The shutters were beautifully carved wooden affairs, pierced in a delicate pattern to admit air, but when I applied my eye to one of the larger holes I could see only a narrow sliver of daylight, owing to the cunning curvature of the aperture. No hinges were visible; evidently they were on the outside of the shutters.

The only other exit from the room was a heavy door behind a curtain of fringed damask. Its inner surface was unmarked by hinges or keyholes or handles. I put my shoulder against it but it did not yield so much as a fraction of an inch.

Returning to the couch, I pondered my new discoveries and was forced to conclude that they offered little hope. The room had been designed for a prisoner, and I was sure I knew what kind of prisoner. That the villain should insult me by putting me into a room of the harem made me grind my teeth in rage. Nor was my ire assuaged when I discovered, spread upon the couch, such a costume as was worn by favoured concubines of wealthy voluptuaries – the flowing, semi-transparent
shinityan
, or trousers, and the
antree
, or vest, that leaves half the bosom exposed. A respectable woman would wear a robe over these garments even in the privacy of her house, but none had been supplied. I tossed
shintiyan
and
anteree
contemptuously onto the floor.

At the moment there appeared to be nothing more I could do. The lamps were too high for me to reach, the door and windows were unassailable. I could probably twist the filmy fabric of the trousers into a rope, but a rope was of no use to me except to hang myself. Yet the situation was not entirely hopeless. In his consummate arrogance, Sethos had not bothered to change his headquarters. Not that I expected anything would come of Ramses’ ridiculous idea of locating the place by means of the muezzins’ calls, but I knew Emerson would raze the city of Cairo to its foundations before he gave up the search. There was hope as well in the information Mr Gregson had discovered. Perhaps even now he and Emerson were on their way to release me!

I cannot say the time dragged, for I was fully occupied in considering and dismissing ideas for escape (mostly, I confess, the latter). I had no intention of sitting supinely waiting to be rescued. When I heard the faint sound at the curtained door I was instantly on my feet and speeding across the room. I had no great expectation that my attempt would succeed, for I had only my bare hands with which to strike at the person who was about to enter, and I was also ignorant of whether the door opened in or out, to right or to left. Still, one must do one’s best. Clasping my hands together in the manner demonstrated to me by an Arab thug of my acquaintance, I took up my position by the door.

I did not see the door open, or hear it; the hinges had been well oiled. A faint draft of air was the only warning I had. It was followed by the abrupt displacement of the curtain as a man passed through. I was ready. I brought my clenched hands down with bruising force on the back of his neck.

At least that was where I planned to strike him. My fists landed in the middle of his back and fell numb and tingling to my side. The fellow was almost seven feet tall, and his muscles felt like granite.