Seeing a Large Cat (19 page)

"I have already been to see her," said my son without looking up. "If appetite is any indication of a successful convalescence, she is doing extremely well."

Breakfast came in, followed by Emerson, who explained he had been looking for his hat.

"It is there on the table," I said. "Where I put it yesterday after I brought it back from the Valley where you had left it. Nefret, do you want to go to Luxor with us?"

As it turned out, everyone expected to go to Luxor with us. This did not please Emerson. "We may as well invite Abdullah and Carter and a few dozen of the men, and make a parade of it," he grumbled. "What about guarding the tomb?"

"What about it?" I passed him the toast. "There is nothing left to guard, Emerson. I have never seen an emptier tomb."

"It is Friday," David pointed out. "The day of-"

"Yes, yes, I know. Cursed religion," Emerson added, snapping his large white teeth on a piece of toast.

Our own religious observances were, of necessity, eclectic. David's father had been a Copt, his mother Muslim. Nefret had been priestess of Isis in a society where the old Egyptian gods were still worshipped. Her father's attempts to teach her about the Christian faith had been halfhearted at best.

Emerson despised organized religion in all forms, and Ramses, through constant exposure to the faith of Islam, was more familiar with the Koran than the Bible-though what Ramses actually believed, if anything, would have been difficult to discover.

I believe I may say that I had done my best. When we were in England I always made certain the children attended services with me. In Egypt, such things were not so easy to arrange. There were Christian churches in Cairo, including the English Church of All-Saints, and upon occasion I was able to persuade my reluctant charges (excepting Emerson, of course) to accompany me. In Luxor, getting the children into proper clothes and across the river in time for the rather erratic services available there would have required considerable effort, even without the loud objections of Emerson. We had therefore become accustomed to working on Sunday, along with the men. I always say that formal observances are less important than what is in the heart.

Nefret insisted on seeing for herself how "Teti" was getting on. "Not that I don't trust your judgment, Ramses, my boy, but I am the physician in charge." She came back to report that the patient was doing well and eating everything it could get its teeth into.

"This place is turning into a confounded menagerie," Emerson grumbled. "I trust you do not expect to take it back to England with you, Nefret, because I draw the line at goats. Cats, a lion or two, yes; goats, no."

"Selim will look after her for me while we are away," Nefret said.

She was wearing a divided skirt and a wide-brimmed hat tied under her chin by a gauzy scarf and she looked very pretty. The boys . . . Well, they were clean, at least. When Cyrus arrived we were ready to go. Though no one, however attired, can match Emerson's impressive appearance, Cyrus was quite the man of the world in tweed jacket, well-cut riding breeches, and polished boots. Leaving the horses at the dahabeeyah, we boarded one of the small boats, and the men pushed off.

Sitting between Cyrus and Emerson, I said briskly, "Well, gentlemen, what are your plans? We must not waste time. There is a great deal to be done."

Cyrus nodded. "I have been thinking about that poor creature lying there like a piece of discarded lumber. I would be happy to supply a decent coffin if one can be found."

"That is her husband's responsibility," Emerson said. "And his right."

"He cannot be told," I began.

"He must be told." Emerson gave me a severe look. "Peabody, I insist that you leave off trying to manage the universe and everyone in it. I am willing to give up a day of my valuable time to these distractions, but I mean to have all of them settled by this evening so that I can return to work."

He ticked off the points on his fingers. "Firstly, I will telegraph Cairo. This is not a matter for the local police or the American consular agent."

I could not but agree. Ali Murad, the agent in question, was a Turk with whom we had had several unfriendly encounters. His primary occupation was dealing in antiquities-legally or otherwise.

"Secondly," Emerson went on, "I will talk to Willoughby about Bellingham's state of health. I believe he will agree with me that Bellingham is fit to hear the news and decide on the disposition of his wife's remains. Willoughby does lose a patient occasionally; he must have access to a morgue and a coffin maker and all the rest."

"Very good, Emerson," I said when he paused to draw breath. "I see you have it all worked out. Except-"

"Thirdly," Emerson said, very loudly. "I will call on the Frasers and deal with that Mrs. Whitney-Whatever. Aha, Peabody! You thought I had forgot them, didn't you? I told you, I mean to dispose of all extraneous distractions today. That is everything, I believe."

"Not entirely, Emerson."

"What, then?"

"Even assuming you can solve the Frasers' difficulties in a single interview, which I fear is unlikely, there is the matter of Dolly Bellingham."

Emerson's eyes narrowed. This had the effect of appearing to concentrate the brilliant blue of those orbs into slits of sap-phirine fire. "Dolly Bellingham," he said, forcing the words between his teeth like a stage villain, "is the silliest, vainest, most selfish, most boring female I have ever met-with the possible exception of your niece Violet. I am not a chaperon of young ladies, Peabody, nor, God be thanked, an uncle or other relation. Why you should assume ..."

I would never have supposed Emerson could be so eloquent on the subject of vain young ladies. I made no effort to stop him, nor did Cyrus, who listened with a smile and an occasional nod. Like Cyrus, I agreed with Emerson's assessment of the girl, but I had a feeling we would not easily rid ourselves of her.

My premonitions are generally correct. Almost the first person we encountered after disembarking was Dolly. Frilled and beruffled and squeezed into stays so tight I wondered she could breathe, she was strolling back and forth along the road near the landing stage, holding the arm of the young man Ramses had treated so rudely on the terrace of Shepheard's. He was wearing what I assumed to be the latest fashion in gentleman's attire-a cream flannel suit with narrow blue stripes, and a straw boater with a black band. Cream-colored gloves, a stick, and a loosely knotted pink tie completed the ensemble. Trailing the pair at a respectful distance was one of the local dragomen, an amiably incompetent individual named Saiyid.

An encounter was not to be avoided. After greeting us, Dolly introduced her escort as Mr. Booghis Tucker Tollington. While I was trying to assimilate this remarkable appellation, the young man bowed to me and Nefret and shook hands with Cyras, the only gentleman to offer a hand.

"I am glad to see you two have made it up," I said.

The young man looked sheepish. Dolly looked demure. "I didn't have the least idea Mr. Tollington was coming on to Luxor. You can imagine my surprise when we saw him this morning in the breakfast room."

Mr. Tollington grinned idiotically and mumbled something in which I made out the words "pleasure" and "coincidence." He then glanced curiously at Emerson, who was standing several feet away with his hands behind his back and his nose in the air.

"I am going on to the telegraph office," Emerson announced. "Are you coming, Vandergelt?"

Cyrus offered me his arm, and I said, "We must be on our way. I had expected to see you at the clinic, Miss Bellingham. I take it that your father is much improved?"

She was not so stupid as to miss the implied reproof. "Oh, yes, ma'am, he's so much better he just plain ordered me to go out for some fresh air. He doesn't like to see me looking pale and puny."

We proceeded on our way. Nefret ran ahead to walk with Emerson, and I remarked to Cyrus, "What strange names Americans have!"

"Now, Mrs. Amelia, you English are no slouches at inventing unpronounceable handles either. That unfortunate boy was probably given his mother's family name; our Southern neighbors go in for that kind of thing. I expect the Booghises are an old distinguished Charleston family."

The boys had more or less melted into the scenery as soon as they saw Dolly and her escort. I stopped and looked back for them. They were coming, but rather slowly, and I realized that an animated discussion was in progress. Ramses was doing most of the talking, of course. When he saw I was waiting he quickened his pace.

"What were you doing?" I asked suspiciously.

"Fahddling with Saiyid," Ramses replied.

"What about?"

"I asked him," said Ramses slowly and precisely, "whether he had been hired by Colonel Bellingham, and, if so, why the Colonel had discharged Mohammed, whom we saw with the party yesterday."

"And what did he say?"

"Yes to the first question, 'Only Allah knows' to the second."

"He must have some idea," I persisted. "Had Mohammed been insolent or failed in his duties?"

Ramses considered the question and condescended to elaborate. "Mohammed claimed he had not failed in any way. That is, of course, what one would expect him to say. Perhaps Miss Bellingham took a dislike to him. She is in the habit of dismissing attendants for no particular reason."

"I cannot imagine why she would prefer Saiyid," I said with a smile. "Mohammed is a tall, upstanding fellow, and Saiyid... Well, the poor man cannot be blamed for his squint and his warts, but I do not suppose he would rush to Dolly's rescue if someone attacked her."

"He is one of the most notorious cowards in Luxor," Ramses agreed. "But why should any guide or dragoman risk death or injury for the magnificent wages of twenty-five piastres a day?"

Cyrus demanded to know what we were talking about, so I told him of Bellingham's fears for his daughter. "Emerson denies there is any cause for concern, of course," I said. "But we have reason to suspect otherwise."

"Ramses has reason, anyhow," said Cyrus, glancing curiously at my son, who was strolling along with his hands in his pockets, looking bored. "It's a peculiar story all right. I never heard of a foreigner being attacked in the Ezbekieh-or anyplace else in Egypt, come to think of it."

"I am glad you agree with me about the gravity of the matter, Cyrus," I said. "But I beg you won't mention it to Emerson; he is already in a considerable state of aggravation."

"With good reason, Mrs. Amelia, my dear. You folks are always getting yourselves into scrapes, but I can't recall any as complicated as this one."

We arrived at the telegraph office in time to meet Emerson and Nefret coming out. "What kept you?" he demanded, frowning horribly.

"Finished already?" Cyrus asked in surprise.

Emerson is the only individual of my acquaintance who can bully the clerks at the telegraph office into swift action. He is never able to understand why it takes other people so long.

He was persuaded to hire a carriage to take us to the clinic, since it was outside the village, in a quiet country setting. Shaded by palm and tamarisk, surrounded by gardens bright with flowers, the sprawling whitewashed house had a reposeful air designed to soothe the nerves of Dr. Willoughby's patients. He believed-as do I-that comfortable surroundings, good food, and assiduous service are essential to physical as well as mental health.

Emerson cut the civilities short-"I am a busy man, Willoughby, and so are you"-and launched at once into his tale. The good doctor had heard many a wild story, but he was visibly shaken by this one.

"Are you certain?" he exclaimed.

"Of her identity? There can be little doubt, I am afraid. Her husband is the only one who can confirm it."

"The Colonel appears to have suffered only a fainting fit," Willoughby said. "His heart is strong. But I hesitate to take the responsibility. A shock such as this-"

"He suffered the shock yesterday," I said. "The truth can be no worse than what he already suspects."

And so it proved. Leaving the others waiting in his office, the doctor escorted me and Emerson to the Colonel's room.

Overstuffed chairs and low tables, vases of fresh flowers and pretty prints of kittens and puppies, made it look more like a guest chamber in someone's house than a hospital room. Bellingham was sitting by the open window. He greeted us with no appearance of surprise and rose to kiss my hand.

"So it is true," he said quietly.

"I am very sorry," I said, squeezing his hand sympathetically.

Willoughby took the Colonel's other hand and placed his fingers on his wrist. Bellingham shook his head.

"You will find my pulse perfectly steady, Doctor. I would not have exhibited such contemptible weakness yesterday if the sight had not been so sudden and unexpected. I am a soldier, sir; I will not give way again. Now, Professor and Mrs. Emerson, if you will be good enough to tell me ..."

Emerson left it to me, knowing I would soften the terrible facts as much as was possible. Bellingham's face went a shade whiter when I asked him about the initialed undergarment, but he confirmed my assumption in a voice firm and clear.

"Her name was Lucinda. She had a dozen such garments; we selected them in Paris, together. It remains, then, only to remove her to a more fitting final resting place."

"I fear," said Emerson, "that a great deal more remains to be done. Willoughby here has offered the use of his private chapel and mortuary, and I hope those arrangements can be completed today. However, the questions of how she died and how she came to be here are equally important."

"He killed her," the Colonel said.

"He?"

'That murdering swine Dutton Scudder." For the first time emotion distorted the Colonel's dignified face. "You know the story, of course? Everyone in Cairo knew-or believed they did. They were wrong. I told the police that the vile rumors were untrue! I told them she had not deserted me, that Scudder had abducted her against her will."

"He was your secretary?" Emerson asked.

"He performed the same services as a native dragoman," Bellingham said contemptuously. "I found him through an employment agency in New York; he had lived in Egypt and knew Arabic. Had I but known ..." The agonized lines in his face smoothed out. "She rests in peace now. Her good name will be restored and my faith in her will be vindicated."