Part 13 (2/2)

”Be silent a moment,” I begged. ”How can you hear him reply if you keep shouting?”

Emerson nodded. Then he turned like a tiger on poor Abdullah and clutched him by the throat of his robe. ”From what direction did the cry you heard come?” Abdullah and clutched him by the throat of his robe. ”From what direction did the cry you heard come?”

Abdullah gestured helplessly and rolled his eyes, finding speech impossible because of the constriction of the cloth around his throat.

”If you will forgive me, Emerson, that was a foolish question,” I said. ”You know how difficult it is to determine the origin of a faint, m.u.f.fled cry in this barren region. I have, I believe, more pertinent information which I will produce as soon as you are calm enough to hear it. Look there, Emerson. Look at the small pyramid.”

One glance was all that trained eye required. His hand fell in nerveless horror from the throat of our devoted reis; his eyes moved with mingled dread and deliberation over the new-fallen debris at the base of the small structure. None knew better than he the dangers of a careless attack on the unstable ma.s.s.

It was young Selim who gave a heartbreaking cry and flung himself onto the debris, where he began digging frantically. Emerson dodged a perfect rain of broken stone and lifted Selim up by the scruff of his neck. ”That won't do, my lad,” he said in a kindly voice. ”You will bring the rest of the heap down on your head if you aren't careful.”

Contrary to popular opinion, Arabs are very softhearted people and feel no shame in displaying emotion. Selim's face was wet with tears, which mingled horribly with the sand to form a muddy mask. I patted him on the shoulder and offered him my handkerchief. ”I don't think he is under there, Selim,” I said. ”Emerson, do you call again. Just once, my dear, and then wait for an answer.”

No sooner had the echoes of Emerson's poignant cry died into silence than there was an answer, high and faint and far away, quite easily mistaken by superst.i.tious persons for the wailing of a lost spirit. Abdullah started. ”That was it, O Father of Curses. That was the voice we heard!” faint and far away, quite easily mistaken by superst.i.tious persons for the wailing of a lost spirit. Abdullah started. ”That was it, O Father of Curses. That was the voice we heard!”

”Ramses,” I said, sighing. ”He has found the entrance, curse-I mean, bless him. Emerson, do you see that shadow ten feet above the debris and slightly to the right of center?”

A brief and, on my part, rational discussion of the situation resulted in the conclusion that the opening might indeed be the long-concealed entrance, and that it would be possible for us to reach it if we exhibited a reasonable amount of care. Emerson kept interrupting me with whoops of ”Ramses!” and Ramses kept answering, in that uncanny wail. I finally put an end to the procedure by reminding Emerson that shouting used oxygen, a commodity of which Ramses might be in short supply if indeed, as one could only a.s.sume, he was shut into a place from which he could not extricate himself unaided. Emerson at once agreed, and I must say I found it much easier to cogitate without him bellowing.

Like the larger stone pyramids, this smaller version had been built of blocks that ascended like a giant, four-sided staircase. However, this structure was-as we had evidence-much less stable than its neighbor; it would be necessary to ascend with extreme caution, testing each block before putting one's weight upon it. Emerson insisted upon leading the way. As he correctly (but, I thought, depressingly) pointed out, if the block would not hold his weight, I would know it was not safe to step on it.

At last we reached the level of the opening and discovered that it was indeed the entrance-or, at least, an entrance-to the interior. Nothing but blackness showed within. Emerson took a deep breath. I stopped him with a soft reminder. ”Even the vibrations of a loud shout...” within. Emerson took a deep breath. I stopped him with a soft reminder. ”Even the vibrations of a loud shout...”

”Hmmm,” said Emerson. ”True, Peabody. Do you think he is in there?”

”I am certain of it.”

”Then I am going in.”

But he could not. The narrow opening would not admit the breadth of his shoulders, twist and turn them as he might. I waited until he had exhausted himself before I mentioned the obvious. ”My turn, Emerson.”

”Bah,” said Emerson; but he said no more. An exclamation of distress came from quite another quarter. Donald had followed us; I had observed the skill with which he moved on the uneven surface, and deduced that he must have done some climbing. Now he said softly, ”Professor, surely you don't intend to let her-”

”Let her?” Emerson repeated. ”I never let let Mrs. Emerson do anything, young man. I occasionally attempt to prevent her from carrying out her more harebrained suggestions, but I have never yet succeeded in doing so.” Mrs. Emerson do anything, young man. I occasionally attempt to prevent her from carrying out her more harebrained suggestions, but I have never yet succeeded in doing so.”

”I am narrower through the shoulders than you,” Donald persisted. ”Surely I am the one-”

”Balderdash,” Emerson said brusquely. ”You have had no experience. Mrs. Emerson has an affinity for pyramids.”

While they were discussing the matter, I removed my coat and lighted a candle. After discovering that Ramses was not in his room (and before leaving the house) I had dashed to the roof to retrieve my belt and my parasol. The latter I had of necessity left below, but the belt and its accouterments had again proved their utility.

”A bientot, bientot, Emerson,” I said, and wriggled head-first into the hole. Emerson,” I said, and wriggled head-first into the hole.

There was no reply, but a surrept.i.tious caress upon the portion of my body yet exposed was sufficient evidence of his emotions.

I found myself in a narrow pa.s.sageway lined with stone. It was high enough for me to stand erect, but in view of the steep angle at which it descended I considered it better to proceed in a crawling position. I had not gone far before I saw something unusual. The darkness ahead was broken by an irregular patch of brightness. The light strengthened as I moved slowly forward, and I found that it streamed through a narrow gap in a huge fall of stone and brick which had blocked the pa.s.sage. Cautiously I a.s.sumed an upright position and applied my eye to the gap.

Seated on a large block of stone, his back against the wall of the pa.s.sage, was Ramses. He had stuck a candle onto the stone with its own grease, and he was scribbling busily on a notepad. Though I knew he must have heard my involuntary gasp of relief at finding him unharmed, he did not stop writing until he had finished the sentence and ended it with an emphatic jab of his pen. Then he looked up.

”Good evening, Mama. Is Papa with you, or have you come alone?”

No, dear Reader, the break in the narrative at this point is not intended to keep from your ears (or eyes) the words I spoke to my son. I did not dare shout at him for fear of disturbing the delicate balance of the stones around me. In fact, it was Ramses who spoke, describing in wearisome detail the method by which we ought to remove the fallen rubble in order to free him. He was still talking when I left. My head had scarcely emerged from the entrance hole when it was seized by Emerson. In between raining kisses on my face, more or less at random, he asked questions I could not hear owing to the fact that his hands were covering my ears. hole when it was seized by Emerson. In between raining kisses on my face, more or less at random, he asked questions I could not hear owing to the fact that his hands were covering my ears.

I was pleased but surprised; Emerson's demonstrations of affection, though extravagant in private, are not often displayed before an audience. And indeed, if he had seen Donald Fraser's grin, he would have desisted at once.

Having solved the auditory problem, I explained the situation. ”I cannot s.h.i.+ft the stones, Emerson; they are too heavy for me. I think we will have to take advantage of Mr. Fraser's offer after all.”

”Is Ramses all right? Is the dear boy injured?” Emerson inquired anxiously.

”He is working on a ma.n.u.script which I presume to be his Egyptian grammar,” I replied curtly. ”Mr. Fraser, if you will?”

Donald followed me into the pa.s.sageway. At the sight of the obstruction he let out a soft whistle. In the dim flame of the candle I held, he resembled one of the ancient workmen crouching on hands and knees before the burial chamber in which he had left his royal master hidden (as he vainly hoped) for all eternity.

I said softly, ”Study the situation, Mr. Fraser, I pray, before you touch any of the stones. A careless move-”

”I understand,” Donald said.

Then we heard a thin, high voice. ”I suggest, Mr. Nemo-or Mr. Fraser, as the case may be-that you endeavor to locate the pivotal point on which the relative ma.s.s of the rockfall is balanced; for according to my calculations the total weight of the portion of the pyramid over our heads is approximately eighteen and one-third tons, give or take a hundred weight....”

I find myself quite incapable of recording the rest of Ramses' lecture. It was accompanied by a monotonous undercurrent of profanity from Donald Fraser, for which, I must say, I could hardly blame him. He performed well, particularly under those somewhat exasperating circ.u.mstances, and soon succeeded in enlarging the hole through which I had first seen the light of Ramses' candle. As soon as it was big enough, Ramses' face appeared in the opening, hideously shadowed by the candle he held. His thin face looked alarmingly like the mummy of his namesake, and he was still offering suggestions. ”Mr. Nemo-if you will permit me to continue the use of that pseudonym until I am formally introduced to you under your proper name-I strongly request that you do not remove anything to the left- your right, it would be-of the present gap. My appraisal of the situation-” Ramses' lecture. It was accompanied by a monotonous undercurrent of profanity from Donald Fraser, for which, I must say, I could hardly blame him. He performed well, particularly under those somewhat exasperating circ.u.mstances, and soon succeeded in enlarging the hole through which I had first seen the light of Ramses' candle. As soon as it was big enough, Ramses' face appeared in the opening, hideously shadowed by the candle he held. His thin face looked alarmingly like the mummy of his namesake, and he was still offering suggestions. ”Mr. Nemo-if you will permit me to continue the use of that pseudonym until I am formally introduced to you under your proper name-I strongly request that you do not remove anything to the left- your right, it would be-of the present gap. My appraisal of the situation-”

The speech ended in a squawk as Donald, driven beyond endurance, s.n.a.t.c.hed his charge by the throat and dragged him through the opening. It was a chancy thing to do, but it had no ill effect except on the nether portion of Ramses' anatomy, which, as I later discovered, was violently scored by the rough edges of the rocks as he pa.s.sed rapidly under them.

”Precede me, Ramses, if you please,” I said coldly.

”Yes, Mama. I would rather do that in any case, since I have the distinct impression, from the strength of Mr. Nemo's grip, that he is in a state of emotional excitation that makes me prefer to have some obstacle between myself and his-”

I gave Ramses a push. He said later that I had struck him, but that is not correct. I simply pushed him in order to hasten his progress. It certainly had that effect.

Our return to the house was effected in utter silence. When we arrived it was completely dark, and Hamid the cook informed us indignantly that dinner was burned to a crisp because we had not told him we would be late. to a crisp because we had not told him we would be late.

After the required repairs to our physical and sartorial deficiencies had been effected, and a distinctly inferior meal had been consumed, we gathered in the sitting room for a council of war.

Feeling that repairs to shattered nerves were also required, I offered whiskey all round, except to Ramses, of course. He and the cat had milk and Enid chose a cup of tea. The genial beverage (I refer in this instance to the whiskey) had the desired effect, though in Emerson's case the improvement of his spirits was due in large part to the relief of recovering his son more or less unscarred, and to the fact that I was about to admit him to my confidence. As he put it, during a brief moment of privacy, while I was removing my (or Enid's) disheveled costume, ”Much as I deplore your insane escapades, Peabody, I resent even more being excluded from them.”

Yet, as I explained once we had settled around the table in the sitting room, there was very little he did not know, now that the ident.i.ties of the two young persons had been disclosed. He could not blame me for failing to inform him of Enid's real name, since he claimed to have recognized her from the start.

Ramses, of course, also maintained he had penetrated Enid's disguise. ”The bone structure is unmistakable. A student of physiognomy is never misled by superficial changes in appearance such as are wrought by clothing, ornaments, or cosmetics. Which reminds me, Miss Debenham, that at some future time I would like to discuss with you the devices ladies employ in order to change their natural appearance-for the better, as they no doubt a.s.sume, or they would not resort to such things. The coloring of the lips and cheeks reminds me of the Amazulu people, who often paint broad stripes-” doubt a.s.sume, or they would not resort to such things. The coloring of the lips and cheeks reminds me of the Amazulu people, who often paint broad stripes-”

We stifled Ramses, figuratively speaking-though Donald looked as if he would like to have done so literally. He had already informed me that he was beginning to understand my warnings concerning Ramses. ”The boy doesn't need a bodyguard, Mrs. Emerson, he needs a guardian angel-or possibly a squad of them.”

The young man was wearing his new s.h.i.+rt and trousers, and for the first time resembled the English gentleman I knew him to be. He sat with eyes downcast and lips pressed tightly together. Enid was also silent. The concerted effort both made to avoid touching or looking at one another was in my opinion highly significant.

Emerson was the first to break the silence. ' 'It seems that whether I will or not, I have become involved in the little matter of Kalenischeff's murder. Let me say at the outset that I cannot help but believe there is some connection between that event and the domestic matters Mr. Fraser has outlined. It is too much of a coincidence that a third party should have decided to do away with the villain-much as he deserved it-at the precise time when Miss Debenham had hired him to help find her missing kinsman.”

”Coincidences do occur, Emerson,” I said. ”I know you would rather eliminate from consideration that individual whose name I refrain from mentioning-”

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