Part 4 (1/2)
”Indeed?”
”You missed one, Peabody. What did you do with the rest, toss them overboard?”
The corners of his lips quivered, not with fury but with amus.e.m.e.nt. I was somewhat disappointed- for Emerson's outbursts of rage are always inspiring- but I could not help responding in kind.
”Certainly not. That would have const.i.tuted a wanton destruction of the property of others. They are under our mattress.”
”Ah. I might have noticed the crackle of paper had I not been distracted by other things.”
”I did my best to distract you.”
Emerson burst out laughing. ”You succeeded, my dear. You always do. I don't know why you were so determined to prevent me from seeing the story, I cannot accuse you this time of babbling to that fiend of a journalist. He only returned to England ten days before we left, and as soon as I learned of his imminent arrival I made certain you had no opportunity to see him.”
”Oh, you did, did you?”
”Kevin O'Connell”- Emerson's tone, as he p.r.o.nounced the name, turned it into an expletive- ”Kevin O'Connell is an unscrupulous wretch, for whom you have an unaccountable affection. He worms information out of you, Amelia. You know he does. How often in the past has he caused us trouble?”
As often as he has come n.o.bly to our a.s.sistance,” I replied. ”He would never do anything deliberately to harm us, Emerson.”
”Well ... I admit the story was not as damaging as I might have expected.”
It would have been a good deal more damaging if I had not warned Kevin off. Emerson does not believe in telephones. He refuses to have them installed at Amarna House. However, we were in London for two days before we left, and I managed to put through a trunk call from the hotel. I too had seen the notice of Kevin's impending return, and my premonitions are as well-founded as Emerson's.
”I suppose he picked up his information while he was in the Sudan,” Emerson mused. ”He was the only one to use it, there was nothing in the Times Times or the or the Mirror. Mirror.”
”Their correspondents were concerned only with the military situation, I suppose. Kevin, however- ”
”Takes a proprietary interest in our affairs,” Emerson finished. ”Curse it! I suppose it was unreasonable to hope O'Connell would not question the officers at Sanam Abu Dom about us, but one would have thought military persons would not spread gossip and idle rumors.”
”They knew we had gone out into the desert after Reggie Forthright, whose expedition was ostensibly designed to locate his missing uncle and aunt,” I reminded him. ”We could hardly conceal that fact, even if Reginald himself had not expressed his intentions to every officer at the camp. And when we returned, Nefret was bound to inspire curiosity and speculation. But the story we concocted was far more believable than the truth. Everyone who knew of poor Mr. Perth's quest for the Lost Oasis considered him a madman or a dreamer.”
”O'Connell didn't mention it,” Emerson admitted grudgingly. He had not mentioned it because I had threatened him with a number of unpleasant things if he did.
”Nefret's was not the only name to appear in Kevin's story,” I said. ”As I suggested . . as I expected of a journalist of his ability, Kevin took for his theme the miracle of survival. Nefret's story was only one of many, no one reading the article could possibly suspect that she was reared, not by kindly American missionaries, but by the pagan survivors of a lost civilization. Even if the Lost Oasis was not mentioned, the suggestion that she had been reared among naked savages-for that is how our enlightened fellow countrymen regard the members of all cultures except their own-would subject her to ridicule and rude speculation by society.”
”That's what concerns you, is it? Nefret's acceptance into society?”
”She has had trouble enough with narrow-minded fools as it is.” The clouds on Emerson's n.o.ble brow cleared. ”Your kindly concern for the child does you credit, my dear. I think it is all a lot of nonsense, but no doubt the impertinent opinions of the vulgar affect a young girl more than they would ME. In any case we can't explain her origins without giving away the secret we have sworn to keep. All in all, I find I am glad the children are safe at home in England.”
”So am I,” I said truthfully.
The first person I saw as the steamer nosed into the dock at Port Sa'id was our faithful foreman Abdullah, his snowy-white turban rising a good six inches over the heads of the crowd that surrounded him.
”Curse it,” I exclaimed involuntarily. I had hoped for a few more hours of Emerson's undivided attention. Fortunately he did not hear me, raising his hands to his mouth, he let out a ululating call that made the nearby pa.s.sengers jump, and brought a broad grin to Abdullah's face. He had been our reis for years and was far too old and dignified to express his excitement in violent physical demonstrations, but his younger relatives were not, their turbans bobbed as they jumped up and down and shouted their welcome.
”How splendid of Abdullah to come all this way,” Emerson said, beaming.
”And Selim,” I said, spotting other familiar faces. ”And Ali, and Daoud, and Feisal and- ”
”They will be of great help getting our gear to the train,” Emerson said. ”I can't think why I didn't suggest they meet us here. But it is like Abdullah to antic.i.p.ate our slightest desire.”