Part 35 (1/2)

”My poor girl,” Cyrus said gently. ”How courageously you performed your painful duty.”

”Oh, I am quite accustomed to st.i.tching Emerson back together. But Cyrus- it was such a near thing! We cannot go on this way, fending off one attack after another. A good offense is the best defense.

We must take the aggressive!”

Cyrus tugged at his goatee. ”I was afraid you were going to say that. You're as bad as he is, Amelia.

This is the second time you've snuck away and driven me to the brink of heart failure. I'm doing my level best to protect you- ”

”I am aware of that, Cyrus, and appreciative of your concern, though if you will allow me to say so, the role of a poor little woman in need of male protection does not suit me.”

It was Cyrus's turn to sigh. ”Okay. Just do me the favor of letting me in on your schemes, will you?

What do you propose to do now?”

”I am going to the village.”

”Then I am going with you.”

We had a nice little chat with the mayor. He threw up his hands in horror when I told him what had occurred, invoking every saint in the Moslem calendar, starting with the Prophet himself, he protested his innocence and that of the village as a whole. I a.s.sured him we would never, as some tyrannical authorities had been known to do, punish an entire community for the misdeeds of one man. I then proceeded to make him an offer he could not refuse.

We were climbing down the bank toward the gangplank before Cyrus recovered his voice. ”Dead or alive? A reward is a bully idea, Amelia, but did you have to say- ”

”That was just Arabic rhetoric,” I a.s.sured him. ”It sounded more emphatic.”

”It sure did. 'His head in a basket' carries a lot of punch.”

”I made it clear I preferred him alive. But I will take what I can get.”

Shaking his head, Cyrus went off to his quarters and I looked in on Emerson. He was sleeping soundly, which I had expected, because I had slipped a soupc,on of laudanum into his water bottle. With my mind at ease on that point I proceeded to my room, not to rest, as I had promised Cyrus, but to consider my next move.

I had my strategy worked out by the time the weary workers returned from the dig. The most difficult part was to decide whom to take into my confidence, and to what extent. I did not count on any cooperation whatever from Emerson, but I hoped by one means or another to induce him to discuss his intentions with regard to the excavation. Cyrus, I feared, had not entirely abandoned his charming but absurd idea of protecting me, so I would have to find means of eluding his attentions when it did not suit me to accept them. Men are frightful nuisances at times,- how much simpler life would be if we women did not have to make allowances for their little peculiarities.

Simpler, but not nearly so interesting. The sight of my now-beardless spouse, scowling at me across the dinner table, caused a thrill to run through my limbs and reminded me that no effort was too great to preserve him from peril. To my regret I had been forced to cover up the dimple in Emerson's chin, which he detests and which I cherish, strips of sticking plaster also disfigured the bridge of his nose and his upper lip. But the strong jaw was at last exposed, the magnificent modeling of one cheek at least was visible to my fond gaze.

I was about to compliment him on the improvement in his appearance when Cyrus entered, apologizing for his tardiness and looking rather sheepish. I dropped my napkin.

”Cyrus! You have shaved off your goatee!”

”A gesture of sympathy,” said the American, glancing at Emerson.

”Wasted,” said Emerson. ”You ought to have stuck to your guns, Vandergelt, as you Americans say.

You look ridiculous.”

”Not at all,” I said, considering the effect. ”I approve, Cyrus. You have a fine, well-shaped chin. Indeed, you look ten years younger.”

Emerson immediately changed the subject, demanding of Rene an account of the afternoon's work.

”You were right, Professor,” Rene said. ”The second structure appears to be exactly the same size as the one adjoining it, five meters wide by ten deep. The plans are identical- four rooms in all. Into one room, where we found a hearth with a patch of smoke-blackened plaster above it, a part of the ceiling had fallen. It was of matting covered with mud plaster- ”

”The roof, not the ceiling,” snapped Emerson. ”The houses had only one story. Stairs led to the roof, which was open but used for additional living and storage s.p.a.ce. Charles- what about the other house?”