Part 23 (1/2)

”Yes, madam,” said Sethos.

It required only a few minutes to explain the arrangements to Fatima, and we were soon on our way to the dahabeeyah. I left Sethos there, and got one of the crewmen, two of whom were always on duty, to take me across the river. I was not properly dressed for a social call, since I had not taken the time to change from my working costume, but I had put on my second-best hat, which had a nice wreath of pink roses and chiffon streamers that tied under the chin. Parasol in hand, I marched up the gangplank of the Isis, announced myself to the guard, and was shown into the saloon.

Tea had just been brought in, and they were all present-Justin and Maryam, Mrs. Fitzroyce, and the doctor. The doctor was the only one who appeared pleased to see me; he bounded to his feet, cheeks rounded in a smile. His waistcoat was a rainbow of bright embroidery. Hands resting on the head of her stick, Mrs. Fitzroyce looked me up and down, from my dusty boots to my rose-trimmed hat, as her late Majesty might have eyed a mongrel dog.

”I apologize for my intrusion,” I said. ”I will not stay. I came only to ask if I might borrow Miss Underhill for the evening. An old friend has arrived unexpectedly and would like to see her.”

A faint gasp from Maryam was the only response. The doctor's fixed smile did not change; Mrs. Fitzroyce did not move an inch. I am not easily disconcerted, but as the silence lengthened I began to feel slightly uncomfortable. There was something uncanny about the shadowy room, the motionless figures, and the eyes of Justin, gleaming like those of a cat.

Finally the old lady stirred and cleared her throat. ”I cannot permit Miss Underhill to absent herself. She knew when she accepted the position that I expected her to be on duty all day every day.”

”You mean she hasn't had a day or an hour to herself since she joined you?”

My tone was incredulous and critical; it seemed to me, as it must have done to most persons, that the arrangement was cruelly unfair. Mrs. Fitzroyce responded with a brusque ”That is correct.”

”But surely . . .” I modified my indignation. ”Since she has been so faithful in her attendance all this time, can you not spare her for a few hours? I would be extremely grateful. We will bring her back immediately after dinner.”

Unexpectedly and unnervingly Mrs. Fitzroyce's face broke into a broad smile, which added a new and interesting collection of wrinkles. I realized she was having another ”spell.” ”Very good,” she mumbled. ”Go and get your hat, Miss Underhill. The nice hat Mrs. Emerson gave you.”

Maryam got slowly to her feet. That she knew the ident.i.ty of the ”friend” I did not doubt. I could not see her features clearly, but her bent head and bowed shoulders suggested that she had resigned herself to face her father.

”You are inviting Miss Underhill to your house?” Justin's clear treble rang with surprise. ”Then I will come too.”

”I am sorry-” I began.

The old lady cut me off with a rusty chuckle. ”No, Justin, you have not been invited.”

”But she is only a servant,” Justin protested. ”Why can't I go? I want to see the pretty Mrs. Emerson and the children and the cats.”

The door opened to admit one of the guards, a swarthy fellow in turban and striped robe. He seemed out of breath. ”There is a gentleman-”

”Yes, yes,” said the gentleman, pus.h.i.+ng him out of the way. ”My apologies, madam. I came to fetch my wife.”

Ill-mannered and unexpected though it was, his appearance dispelled the uncanny atmosphere as a fresh breeze blows away fog. It would never have occurred to him to change into proper clothing; but Emerson never looks to better advantage than when he is attired in the casual garments he wears on the dig, his s.h.i.+rt open at the throat, his muscular arms bared to the elbow. Mrs. Fitzroyce inspected him with more interest than she had bestowed on me. Emerson has that effect on females, and in my experience a lady is never too old to appreciate a fine-looking man.

”Won't you and Mrs. Emerson stay for tea, Professor?”

”No,” said Emerson. I coughed meaningfully, and he amended his reply. ”Er-thank you, but we have not the time. Confounded rude of Mrs. Emerson to burst in on you, but the circ.u.mstances . . . Hmph. Amelia, shall we go? Where's the girl? That is, I mean Miss-”

I poked him with my parasol before he could shove his foot farther into his mouth.

Maryam had slipped out of the room. I hoped she had only gone to get her hat, but I wasn't taking any chances on her eluding me, so I rushed through my farewells and removed Emerson from the room. Somewhat to my surprise, Justin did not renew his demand to go with us. He had retreated and stood with his back against the wall like a cornered animal.

”He doesn't like me,” said Emerson, who had also observed the boy's reaction.

”You keep catching hold of him. It is just as well; he was determined to come along until you turned up. Now where is that girl? We will wait here at the head of the gangplank so she can't get away.”

”You think she may bolt?”

”I do not know, Emerson, but I prefer not to take the chance. That is why I came here at once, before she learned of the arrival of a mysterious stranger in an aeroplane. Whatever possessed you to follow me?”

”I wanted to be sure you had gone where you said you were going, Peabody.”

”You don't trust me?”

”Not one whit,” said Emerson. His curious gaze moved round the deck, taking in the elegant fittings and the crewmen who watched him with equal curiosity. ”The old lady must be filthy rich. She's set herself up in style. I don't recognize any of the crewmen. A st.u.r.dy lot, aren't they?”

”They are Cairenes, I suppose. She probably hired them with the boat.”

When Maryam came she was wearing the flowery hat. She had washed the paint off her face and loosened her hair. She looked very young and frightened. Emerson immediately offered her his arm and told her not to worry.

Emerson left us at the Amelia; he dislikes emotional scenes and antic.i.p.ated that this one would be particularly fraught. I led Maryam to the saloon, where we found young Nasir furiously dusting various articles of furniture. Fatima must have rousted him out of his house in the village and sent him to the boat to resume his former duties as steward. I had known I could leave everything to her; her standards were a good deal higher than mine.

”The beds are made, Sitt,” he announced proudly, waving the cloth, so that the dust immediately settled back onto the surfaces he had cleaned. ”And the tea is made, and the food is here, and Mahmud is ready to cook, and-”

”Very good,” I said. ”Where is the gentleman?”

”In his room, Sitt. There is hot water and towels and-”

I told Maryam to sit down and went to fetch Sethos. By accident or design, he had selected the same room he had once occupied when he was ill with malaria. He was standing at the window looking out across the rose and golden ripples of the river.

”She is here,” I said, though I knew he must have been aware of our arrival. ”I will leave you two alone.”

”No.” He turned slowly to face me. ”Please stay.”

”Come now, don't be such a coward. You aren't afraid of her, are you?”

”I am afraid of saying the wrong thing.” He pa.s.sed a hand nervously over his hair. I decided it was not a wig, though the color was a peculiar shade of rust-streaked brown.

”Very well,” I agreed. Only courtesy had led me to make the offer. I was immensely curious to know what they would say to each other, and it was likely that a mediator-or referee!-might be wanted.

Nasir had served tea; I told him we would wait on ourselves, and sent him away. After a brief interval, during which time Maryam sat with bowed head and Sethos stood staring, for once bereft of speech, I took a chair and said briskly, ”Maryam, will you pour, please? Milk only for me. Your father takes lemon, no sugar.”

The social amenities are considered meaningless by some, but in my experience they are useful in helping people over an awkward spot. Mechanically she followed my instructions. I gave Sethos a little nudge and gestured to him to take the cup from her. Not until then did she look up into his face.

”You've changed,” she whispered.

”For the worse.” He had regained his sangfroid. The practiced charm settled onto him like a garment. ”The same cannot be said of you. You have become a beautiful woman.”

”Like my mother?”

He flinched, but replied calmly, ”Not at all like your mother. I will answer your questions, Maryam, in due time, and make all the amends I can for my past mistakes. For now, can we not talk a little, get to know one another better?”

His humility gave her increased confidence. Her chin lifted, and she smiled faintly. ”What shall we talk about?”

”You.” Remembering his manners, he brought me my cup and then seated himself next to her on the divan. ”Mrs. Emerson has told me of your present situation. It cannot continue.”

”Has she told you the boy is dependent on me, and that I have given Mrs. Fitzroyce my word to remain as long as she needs me?”

”We'll find someone to take your place.”