Part 14 (1/2)

He tossed the crumpled paper onto the breakfast table. It fell into the cream jug, by the time I had fished it out, the writing was so blurred as to be indecipherable.

”I will take your word for it,” I said, putting the soggy wad onto a clean saucer. ”Nor will I claim that even a young man might suffer a momentary lapse of memory or an inadvertent slip of the pen. The fact that the wrong turning led us into an ambush is proof positive that the misdirection was intentional. Have you ever done anything to offend Mr McKenzie?”

”I presume,” said my husband, distorting his handsome face into a hideous scowl, ”that you are attempting to be facetious, Amelia. The invitation did not come from McKenzie.”

He had not answered the question. It was a safe a.s.sumption that at some time or other he had offended Mr. McKenzie, because there were few people he had not offended. The reaction seemed somewhat extreme, however.

”How do you know it did not come from him?”

”I don't,” Emerson admitted. ”I sent round this morning to inquire, but the messenger has not yet returned.”

”He will deny it in any case.”

”True” Emerson brooded like a pensive sphinx over the m.u.f.fin he was b.u.t.tering. ”There are some curious stories about McKenzie. His age and the pa.s.sage of time have given him an air of respectability he did not always deserve. In his youth he swaggered around in Turkish costume- silken robes and a huge turban- and by all accounts behaved like a Turk in- er- other ways.”

I knew he was referring to women. Emerson is absurdly shy about such matters- with me, at any rate.

I had some reason to suspect he was not so reticent with other men, or with some women ”Did he keep a harim?” I inquired curiously

”Oh, well.” Emerson looked uncomfortable. ”It was not uncommon at that time for wild young men encountering a strange culture to adopt some of its customs. Early archaeologists were no more scrupulous about the monuments than they were about- er- other things. McKenzie's private collection of antiquities is said to be- ”

”He never married, I believe,” I mused. ”Perhaps it was not women he favored. There is one Turkish custom- ”

”Good Gad, Peabody!” Emerson shouted, crimsoning. ”A well-bred woman has no business knowing about such things, much less talking of them. I was speaking of McKenzie's collection.”

But I was not to hear of Mr. McKenzie's collection at that time The safragi entered to announce a visitor.

Mr. Vincey and his cat came in together, the great brindled feline leashed and walking beside his master like ... I was about to say a well-trained dog, but there was nothing of canine subservience in the cat's manner, it was rather as if he had trained Mr. Vincey to take him for a walk instead of the reverse.

I offered Mr. Vincey coffee, which he accepted, but when I poured a little cream into a saucer for Anubis he sniffed it and then gave me a contemptuous look before sitting down at Vincey's feet and curling his tail around his haunches. Mr. Vincey apologized at quite excessive length for his pet's rudeness.

”Cats are never rude,” I said. ”They act according to their natures, with a candor humans might well emulate. Many grown cats don't care for milk.”

”This one certainly has the air of a carnivore,” added Emerson. He is more courteous to cats than to people, he went on, ”Well, Vincey, what can we do for you? We were about to go out.”

Mr. Vincey explained that he had called to inquire whether I had fully recovered from my unfortunate adventure. I was about to reply when a fit of coughing and a pointed stare from Emerson reminded me that Vincey must be referring to the affair of the masked ball, for our most recent experience could not be known to him. I a.s.sured him I was in perfect health and spirits. Emerson began to fidget, and after a few more courteous exchanges Mr. Vincey took the hint. It was not until he rose and picked up the leash that I realized the cat was not attached to the other end of it. The collar dangled empty.

With an exclamation of amused chagrin Mr. Vincey surveyed the room. ”Now where has he got to? He seems determined to embarra.s.s me with you, Mrs. Emerson, I a.s.sure you he has never done this before. If you will forgive me . . .” Puckering his lips, he let out a shrill, sweet whistle.

The cat promptly emerged from under the breakfast table. Avoiding Vincey's outstretched hand, it jumped onto my lap, where it settled down and began to purr. It was clear that efforts to remove it without damage to my skirt would be in vain, for Mr. Vincey's first attempt resulted in a low growl and a delicate but definite insertion of sharp claws. I scratched it behind its ear,- releasing its grip, it rolled its head back and let out a reverberant purr.

”The creature demonstrates excellent taste,” said Emerson dryly.

”I have never seen him behave this way,” Mr. Vincey murmured, staring. ”Almost I am emboldened to ask a favor of you.”

”We are not adopting any more animals,” Emerson declared firmly. He tickled the cat under its chin. It licked his fingers. ”Not under any circ.u.mstances whatever,” Emerson went on. The cat b.u.t.ted its head against his hand.

”Oh, I would never give up my faithful friend,” Vincey exclaimed. ”But I am about to leave Egypt-a short journey to Damascus, where a friend of mine has requested my a.s.sistance in a personal matter.

I have been wondering where to find a temporary home for Anubis. I have not so many friends to impose upon.”

There was no self-pity in the last statement, only a manly fort.i.tude.