Part 22 (1/2)

CHAPTER 7.

”Marriage should be a balanced stalemate between equal adversaries.”

Of course I did not mean what I said to Abdullah. There may be conditions worse than death, but there are few, if any, as irreversible. Gladly would I have searched the length and breadth of Egypt for my husband's dismembered body, as Isis did for Osiris, cheerfully I would have taken up my Orphean lyre and descended into the nethermost pits of Hades to fetch him back- had such deeds been possible. Unfortunately they were not, fortunately they were not necessary There was a light at the end of this Stygian tunnel. So long as he lived, anything was possible. And if a thing is possible, Amelia P. Emerson will tackle the job.

It took a while to sort things out. My first task was to comfort Abdullah, he sat down on the ground and blubbered like a child, with relief and with distress at seeing his hero laid so low. Then he wanted to rush out and kill a few more people, but there were none, our victory had been complete, and since our men had not been concerned with taking prisoners, the survivors of the battle had run or crawled or crept away. Among the fugitives, I was chagrined to learn, was the leader. ”But we will find him,” said Abdullah, grinding his teeth. ”I saw him in the fight, before he ran away, it was a bullet from his weapon that wounded Daoud. I will remember him. And Emerson will know . . .”

He broke off, with a doubtful glance at me. ”Yes,” I said firmly. ”He will. Now, Abdullah, stop ranting and be sensible. Daoud is not seriously injured, I hope? And your other men?”

Miraculously, none of our defenders had been killed, though several had been wounded. Daoud, who soon joined us, bore his b.l.o.o.d.y sleeve like a badge of honor and insisted on helping to carry the litter on which Emerson was borne away. I hated to move him, but the alternatives would have been more dangerous,- we could not remain there, and the village offered no accommodations in which I would have put a sick dog. Emerson was deeply unconscious and did not stir, not even when the cart Abdullah had commandeered jolted along the path to the riverbank.

It goes without saying that I did not leave his side for an instant. Though I had not brought my medical kit, my expertise (derided though it often had been by Emerson) a.s.sured me that his heart beat strong and steady and his breathing, though shallow, showed no evidence of distress. The drugs he had been given were enough to account for his present state, though I had reason to suspect he had been kept short of food and water as well. His injuries were superficial except for the wound on the back of his head. That concerned me most, for it must be connected with his loss of memory.

What I had taken to be a clever ruse to avoid questioning was the terrible truth. He had not been delirious or off his head, his remarks had been rational, his mind clear. Except in one rather important particular.

As we approached the Castle I saw that it was lit from cellar to attics. I ran on ahead, in order to lose as little time as possible in making Emerson comfortable. When I reached the gate Cyrus was waiting.

I will not endeavor to reproduce his remarks. American profanity is apparently unrelated to the mother tongue or to any other language known to me. Determined as I was to make myself heard, I could not stop the flow of his eloquence. Not until the litter bearers came in sight with their precious burden did Cyrus break off, with a sound that must have hurt his throat.

Taking advantage of his momentary paralysis of speech, I said, ”No questions now, Cyrus. Help me get him to bed. And make sure the doctor is admitted at once. I sent Daoud to fetch him when we pa.s.sed through Luxor.”

After I had put my stricken spouse to bed (for I would permit no other than myself to perform that tender duty), Cyrus joined me. Arms folded, he stood looking down at Emerson. Then he leaned forward and lifted one sunken eyelid.

”Drugged.”

”Yes.”

”What else is wrong with him?”

I had done all I could. Tucking in the last end of the bandages I had wrapped around his lacerated wrists, I sat back and nerved myself to admit the painful truth.

”Apparently they realized, as anyone who knows Emerson must realize, that torture would only stiffen his resistance. He is not seriously injured, except . . . We agreed, you remember, after we had read the message, that he must be pretending to have amnesia. He was not pretending, Cyrus. He- he did not know me.”

Cyrus sucked in his breath. Then he said, ”Opium produces strange delusions.”

”He was perfectly rational. His replies were sensible- sensible for Emerson, that is. Hurling insults and sarcastic remarks at a man who holds one a chained prisoner is not, perhaps, very wise.”

Cyrus let out a brief bark of laughter. ”Sounds like Emerson, all right. Still- ”

”There can be no mistake, Cyrus. Would that there were! Not only did he look me straight in the face and call me 'madam' but earlier he said .he said he would never be d.a.m.ned fool enough to saddle himself with a wife.”

Cyrus's efforts to comfort me were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor. He was not the pompous little Frenchman with whose medical inexpertise ! had been forced to deal on a previous occasion, but an Englishman who had retired, for reasons of health, to a warmer clime. Evidently the desired effect had been achieved, though his beard was gray and his body cadaverously thin, he moved with the vigor of a young man, and his diagnosis a.s.sured me that we were fortunate to have found him.

We could only wait, he said, for the effects of the opium to dissipate.

Though the dosage had been large, the patient had not been under its influence for long, there was every hope, given his splendid physique, that the process of recovery would be neither prolonged nor unduly arduous. The only serious injury was the wound on the back of the head, but this concerned Dr. Wallingford less than it had me. ”There is no fracture of the skull,” he murmured, probing the area with sensitive fingers ”A concussion, perhaps . . . We cannot a.s.sess that until the patient has recovered consciousness.”

”His loss of memory,” I began.