Part 18 (1/2)

Our friends rallied around. Howard Carter visited me almost daily Despite the differences of opinion that had often marked his relations.h.i.+p with Emerson, Neville was the first to offer his crew to help in the search. Telegrams arrived from Cairo, and from Cairo came, in person, Cyrus Vandergelt. He had abandoned his beloved dahabeeyah, he had not even waited for the regular train. Ordering a special, he had set out as soon as it was ready, leaving his luggage behind, and his first words to me were words of comfort and rea.s.surance

”Don't you fret, Mrs. Amelia. We'll get him back if we have to tear this two-bit town apart. Some good old American know-how is what is wanted here, and Cyrus Vandergelt, U.S.A., is the man to supply it!”

The years had been kind to my friend. There might be a few more silver threads in his hair and goatee, but their sun-bleached fairness looked just the same. His stride was as athletic and vigorous, the clasp of his hand as strong, and his wits as keen as ever. He brought to our problem a cynical intelligence and a knowledge of the world no one had been able to supply When, in answer to his questions, I described the imprisonment of the Gurnah thieves, he shook his head impatiently.

”Sure, I know those Curnah crooks detest my old pal, but this isn't their style. They're more inclined to throw knives or rocks. This smacks of something more sinister. What have you and the professor been up to lately, Mrs. Amelia? Or has that young rascal Ramses pulled another shady deal?”

I was tempted to tell him what I suspected, but I did not dare. I cleared Ramses, as was only proper, but replied that I could not explain the event.

Cyrus was too shrewd to accept this- or perhaps he knew me so well he sensed my hesitation. He was also too much of a gentleman to question my word. ”Well, I'll tell you what I think. He isn't dead. They'd have found the ... er ... found him by now. This has got to be a question of ransom. Why else would they hold him prisoner?”

”There are other reasons,” I replied, repressing a shudder. ”Now put that out of your head, Mrs. Amelia. Money is a lot more powerful incentive than revenge. I'll bet you you'll get a ransom note. If you don't, why, we'll offer a reward.”

It was something to do, at least. The following day every tree and wall in Luxor bore the hastily printed placards. For reasons of my own which I could not explain to Cyrus, I did not expect results, and indeed, the message that arrived that evening was only indirectly related, if at all, to the offer.

It was carried by a ragged fellah, whose willingness to be detained supported his claim of innocence. He was a messenger only, the man who had given him the letter, with a modest tip and an a.s.surance of greater reward upon delivery, had been a stranger to him. Few people are good observers, but it seemed evident from the messenger's confused description that there had been nothing distinctive about the man's dress or appearance.

We sent the messenger away with promises of untold riches if he was able to supply any further information. I thought he was honest. But if he was not, we were more likely to win him over by bribes than by punishment.

Cyrus and I had been in the library. After the messenger had gone, I sat turning the letter over and over in my hands. It was addressed to me, in large printed letters. The envelope bore the name of one of the Luxor hotels.

”If you would like to be alone when you read it . . .” Cyrus began. He had asked my permission to smoke and held one of his long thin cheroots.

”That is not why I hesitate,” I admitted. ”I am afraid to open it, Cyrus. It is the first ray of hope I have beheld. If it proves false . . . But such cowardice does not become me.”

With a firm hand I reached for a letter opener.

I read through the letter twice. Cyrus held his tongue, the effort must have been difficult, for when I looked at him he was leaning forward, his face drawn with suspense. Silently I handed him the letter.

I might have given it to an individual I trusted less than I did my old friend without fear of betraying the deadly secret. It was the most suavely villainous, discreetly threatening epistle I have ever read. I felt contaminated by the mere touch of the paper.

Your husband is disinclined to confide in us [it began], He claims his memory is faulty. It seems incredible that a man could forget so remarkable a journey in so short a period of time, but recent experiences may well have had an adverse effect upon his mind as well as his body.

I do not doubt your recollection is more accurate, and that you would be more than pleased to share it with us, in writing or in person. I will be sitting on the terrace of the Winter Palace Hotel tomorrow evening at five, in the hope that you will join me for an aperitif. Let me add only that, as one of your greatest admirers, I would be gravely disappointed if you sent a subst.i.tute.

Cyrus flung the paper to the floor. ”Amelia,” he cried in poignant accents. ”You aren't going, are you? You wouldn't be such a blamed fool?”

”Why, Cyrus!” I exclaimed.

My friend shook out an enormous snowy-white linen handkerchief and mopped his forehead. ”Pardon me. I took a liberty.”

”By using my first name? Dear Cyrus, no one is better ent.i.tled than you. You have been a pillar of strength.”

”No, but see here,” Cyrus insisted. ”You're as smart at reading between the lines as I am. I don't know what it is this dirty yellow dog wants, but sure as shooting he isn't going to exchange poor old Emerson for anything in writing. How'd he know you were telling the truth? This is just a trick to get ahold of you. Emerson's a tough nut and stubborner than any mule. You couldn't get him to talk if you stuck his feet in the fire or pulled out his . . . Oh, shucks, honey, I'm sorry. They aren't going to do anything like that, they know it wouldn't work. But if they had you in their filthy hands, he'd spill the beans all right.”

”As would I, rather than be forced to watch while they ...” I could not complete the sentence.

”You've got the idea. This ugly cuss needs both of you. That was a cute stunt of Emerson's, pretending to have amnesia, but it won't hold up for five seconds after he sets eyes on you. You can't take the chance, Amelia. It's for Emerson's sake as well as yours, they won't damage him permanently so long as you're on the loose”

”I realize that, my dear Cyrus. But how can I not go? It is our first, our only lead. You noted that the- dirty yellow dog seems a fitting description- that he gave no clue as to how I might identify him. That implies that he is someone I know.”

Cyrus slapped his knee. ”I've said it before and I'll say it again- you're the sharpest little lady of my acquaintance. But we've got to give this a lot of thought, Amelia. If I were running this scam, I wouldn't be at the Winter Palace. I'd have some innocent bystander pa.s.s you a note instructing you to go someplace else- someplace not so safe. You'd do it, too. Wouldn't you?”