Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (156 page)

He was an astonishing and formidable figure, one that might have stepped straight out of the pages of
The Arabian Nights
. His sole article of attire was a pair of knee-length drawers, bound at the waist by a wide crimson sash into which he had thrust a pair of long, curving swords, one on each side. Otherwise his body was bare, from the crown of his shaven head to his midriff and from his knees to the soles of his enormous feet. Every inch of his exposed skin gleamed with oil and bulged with muscle. His arms were as big around as my waist.

He glanced at me with mild curiosity. I suppose my blow must have felt to him like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. As he advanced slowly toward me I retreated, step by step, until the backs of my calves struck the couch and I sat down rather more rapidly than I had intended. That seemed to be what the apparition desired I should do. He halted, and then drew himself up into military rigidity as the curtain once more lifted to admit his master.

I knew him – yet he was no one I had ever seen before. A black beard and moustache masked the lower part of his face; but unlike the hirsute adornments he had worn in his disguise as Father Girgis, this beard was short and neatly trimmed. Tinted glasses concealed his eyes, and I had no doubt that his black, waving locks were false. He wore riding boots and breeches and a white silk shirt with full sleeves, a costume that set off his narrow waist and broad shoulders, and made me wonder how he could ever have played the role of the hollow-chested, feeble-looking young nobleman.

With a peremptory gesture he dismissed the guard. The giant dropped to the floor in a deep salaam and then went out.

‘Good afternoon, Amelia,’ said Sethos. ‘I hope I may call you that.’

‘You may not,’ I replied.

‘Defiant as ever,’ he murmured. ‘It does not surprise me to find your spirit undaunted and your courage high; but are you not in the least curious as to how I brought you here?’

‘Curiosity is a quality I hope I will never lose,’ I said. ‘But at the moment the question of how I came here interests me less than the more important question of how I will get away.’

‘Allow me to satisfy the former question, then,’ came the suave reply. ‘But first, let us make ourselves comfortable.’

He clapped his hands. The giant reappeared, carrying a tray that looked like a doll’s platter in his huge hands. He placed it on the table and withdrew. Sethos poured wine into the crystal glasses.

‘I know you must be thirsty,’ he remarked, ‘for the drug I was forced to use has that effect, and I observe you have not tasted the fruit or used the cup. I admire your caution, but it was unnecessary; the water and the fruit are untainted, as is the wine.’

‘I had expected cognac,’ I remarked ironically.

Sethos burst out laughing, displaying a set of handsome white teeth. ‘So you appreciated my little joke with the good father? Since some ignorant persons persist in regarding my divine patron as the Egyptian Satan, I feel I ought to live up to the reputation he enjoys. Tempting the smug and the pious, and observing the ludicrous haste with which they tumble from virtue, gives me a great deal of innocent pleasure.’

‘I am not amused,’ I assured him. ‘It was a childish, unworthy gesture.’

‘One day, my dear, you will learn to laugh with me at the follies of mankind. But I beg you will assuage your thirst.’

The sight of the pale liquid in the glass he offered made my throat feel drier than ever, but I folded my arms and shook my head. ‘Thank you, no. I never drink with assassins and kidnappers.’

‘You don’t trust me? See here.’ He raised the glass to his lips and drank deeply before offering it again. I took it; ostentatiously turning it so that my lips would not touch the spot his had rested upon, I quenched my thirst. The wine had a dry, tingling taste that was most refreshing.

‘Now,’ Sethos went on, seating himself on a cushion, ‘shall I tell you how I captured you?’

‘It is obvious,’ I said with a shrug. ‘You slipped something into my glass of wine when you caught it to prevent it from spilling. My collapse alarmed my companion; assisted by you, she had me carried to her room. Her balcony gives onto a courtyard, from which it would not be difficult to transport a trunk or a bag of laundry to a waiting carriage. Is Miss Debenham also a prisoner, or have you added another murder to your long list?’

Sethos was offended. ‘I do not murder women,’ he said haughtily.

‘You only have them abducted, accused of murder–’

‘The young woman was never in danger of being executed or even imprisoned,’ Sethos said. ‘Nor has she been harmed. A touch of chloroform, from which she has long since recovered …’

‘Then she must know you are the viscount – or you were – or perhaps I should say that the viscount was you …’

‘It does not matter. That persona is of no use to me now; it has been discarded. You never suspected me?’

‘Emerson did,’ I cried. ‘You cannot deceive Emerson; he is on your trail, and you will not escape his vengeance!’

‘Emerson,’ Sethos repeated, with a sardonic smile. ‘Never mind him; what about you?’

‘I thought you were Mrs Axhammer,’ I admitted. ‘And Ramses – you remember Ramses–’

‘Only too well.’

‘Ramses – after all, he is only a little boy – suspected the detective, Mr Gregson.’

‘I was Gregson.’

‘What!’

‘I was also Mrs Axhammer. I was all three!’

As the meaning of his words struck home, my sprits plummeted into the depths. I was as close to despair as I have ever been, even when I thought myself buried alive in the Black Pyramid. For I had counted on Gregson to assist Emerson in tracking Sethos to his lair.

Galvanized, I bounded to my feet. ‘Emerson,’ I shrieked. ‘He was to meet you – Gregson – what have you done with my husband?’

‘Damn Emerson,’ was the irritated reply. ‘Why must you keep mentioning him? I haven’t done anything to him. The appointment was a ruse, to get him out of the way. I never went near the Café Orientale, and I hope he is still sitting there swilling coffee and reeling from the conversation of that abominably loquacious offspring of yours.’

‘I don’t know why I should believe you.’

‘I don’t know why you should not.’ Sethos rose to his feet. Slowly and thoughtfully, he said, ‘Radcliffe Emerson is one of the few men in the world who could be a serious threat to me. An ordinary, unimaginative villain would have him exterminated; but that is not my way. Besides, I rather enjoy a challenge, and appreciate a worthy adversary. The only advantages I have over Emerson are, first, his preoccupation with his archaeological research, from which he is not easily distracted, and, second, his atrocious temper, which leads him to act without thinking.’

‘Yet,’ I said wonderingly, ‘you have destroyed the first of those advantages by abducting me; for if I am not restored to Emerson unharmed, every ounce of his considerable energy and intelligence will be bent on finding you. As for his temper, it is a terrifying thing to encounter when it is aroused. You, sir, have aroused it.’

‘Quite true. Don’t suppose I was unaware of the risks. Since I proceeded with my plan, you must believe I considered the result worth those risks.’

As he spoke, he advanced slowly toward me. I stepped back, circling the couch, until I could retreat no farther. Sethos came on, lightly as a panther stalking its prey.

I set my back against the wall, prepared to defend myself to the last. ‘Do your worst, you monster,’ I cried. ‘You have taken away my parasol and stripped off my tools; but never think you can break the spirit of a Peabody! Torture me, murder me–’

‘Torture? Murder?’ He gasped for breath, his hands tearing at the open throat of his shirt. ‘Madam! Amelia! You misunderstand me totally. Why, I killed a man yesterday and left him lying before your tent only because he dared hazard your safety by shooting at the man who was with you!’

Before I could take in this remarkable speech, much less respond to it, he had flung himself – not at my throat – but at my feet. ‘Most magnificent of women, I adore you with all my heart and soul! I brought you here, not to harm you, but to shower upon you the ardent devotion of a soul hopelessly caught in your spell!’ And he buried his flushed face in the folds of my trousers.

T
HOUGH
the astonishing turn of events surprised me considerably, it did not offer any reassurance for the future, and my indomitable will quickly conquered my amazement. Sethos continued to breathe heavily on to my left knee. His shirt collar had slipped back, exposing the nape of his neck. The trick had failed the first time; all the more reason why I should give it another try. Clasping my hands tightly together, I struck.

The results were most gratifying. Sethos let out a grunt and released his hold. His knees slipped on the polished marble and his head hit the floor as he fell forward. His head would have struck my feet had I remained motionless, but even as he toppled, I was running for the door.

I had forgotten the cursed thing had no handle. I pushed at it in vain. Turning at bay, I saw Sethos advancing toward me. His tinted glasses had fallen off. His black eyes – his brown eyes – or were they grey? Whatever colour they were, they were blazing with homicidal lust – or perhaps, considering his recent declaration, it was another kind of lust. To be honest, I did not really care which. Desperately I ran my hands over my trousers, hoping against hope some small tool had been overlooked – my penknife, my scissors, even a box of matches. He was almost upon me when a burst of inspiration illumined the darkness of despair. The belt itself! It was two inches wide and fashioned of thick though flexible leather, with a heavy steel buckle. Whipping it off, I whirled it vigorously.

‘Back!’ I shouted. ‘Stand back, or I will mark you in such a fashion that you will always bear one unmistakable stigma no disguise can hide!’

Sethos leaped back with agile grace. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. ‘That,’ he remarked, ‘is what made me love you, Amelia. You are so magnificently disdainful of common sense and discretion. The man who shares your life will never be bored.

‘Please put that down and be reasonable. Even if you could strike me unconscious you could not leave the house.’

‘I could try,’ I retorted, continuing to whirl my belt, which made a sharp singing sound, like that of an angry insect.

‘You could try. But you would fail; and if my men thought you had killed me or seriously injured me, they might harm you. Will you be more amenable if I promise on my solemn oath that I will not touch you or approach you again until you ask me to?’

‘That will never happen,’ I assured him.

‘Who knows? Life is full of unexpected happenings; that is what makes it endurable. If you won’t take my word, look at it this way: You know me to be – well, let us not say vain – let us just say I have a good opinion of myself. Does it not seem more in keeping with what you know of my character that I would derive a peculiar pleasure from winning your affection – turning hate to love, contempt to admiration – rather than resorting to the brute force lesser men might employ? I despise such crudeness. And,’ he added, with another smile, ‘I am sure your arm must be getting tired.’

‘Not at all,’ I said stoutly. ‘I can keep this up all afternoon. However, your argument has its merits.’ I did not mention another, more persuasive argument, and I must say he was courteous enough not to refer to it with so much as a fleeting glance - the fact that my trousers, deprived of a large part of their support, were responding to the inexorable law of gravity.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘It appears to be an impasse, Mr Sethos. I will take your word, but mind you, I give no promise in return.’

I had not used his name before. Upon hearing it, his eyebrows lifted and he laughed. ‘So you have discovered my favourite pseudonym! Leave off the honorific, if you please; it sounds a trifle absurd, and dispels the confidential air I would like to see between us.’

‘No, thank you,’ I replied. ‘I prefer to maintain as much formality between us as the unusual circumstances permit.’

‘But, hang it,’ he cried, half laughing and half angry, ‘how can I begin my wooing with soft phrases and tender words if I must refer to you as Mrs Emerson?’

‘I feel sure a little difficulty of that nature will only be a challenge to you.’

He held out his hand. With a shrug I gave him the belt.

‘Thank you, Mrs Emerson,’ he said gravely. ‘And now I must ask that you assume those garments I have had laid out for you.’

‘How dare you, sir!’

‘As a simple matter of self-defence, Mrs Emerson. Heaven knows what other hard or prickly objects you have concealed about your person. There is room for a set of carving knives in those trousers.’ Correctly interpreting my mutinous expression, he added, ‘Aside from removing the arsenal you carried on your belt, and your boots, neither I nor my assistants searched you. It was a mark of the peculiar respect I feel for you, but if you force me …’

‘Again your arguments are persuasive, sir. I trust you will show me the additional courtesy of leaving me alone while I carry out your command?’