Part 38 (1/2)

”The more honest a man, the easier he can be bamboozled,” Cyrus grunted. ”Just promise me, Amelia, that if Vincey asks you to meet him in some dark alley you won't accept the invitation.”

”Now, Cyrus, you know I would never do such a silly thing.”

When I returned to the little faience ring I had been carefully removing from its position, I saw that the cat Anubis was stretched out along the wall. I had forgotten it until that moment, and so, evidently, had Mr. Vincey. Evidently his ”faithful companion” was not so faithful as he had believed. Not that I blamed the intelligent animal for preferring Emerson's and my company.

With brushes and tiny probes I freed the ring from the matrix of hardened mud that held it. Emerson came loping over to see how I was getting on, and I handed him the ring- or, to be more accurate, the bezel of a ring. These common objects, made of cheap fragile faience, had usually lost the thinner shank portion when we found them, it may have been because they were broken that they had been discarded. Sometimes they bore the name of the reigning pharaoh and were worn as a token of loyalty, in other cases the bezel was ornamented with the image of a G.o.d favored by the wearer. ”Bes,” I said.

”Hmph,” said Emerson. ”So Akhenaton's devotion to his 'sole G.o.d' was not emulated by all the citizens of Amarna.”

”The appeal of the homely little G.o.ds of the household must have been difficult to combat.” I sat back on my haunches and rubbed my aching shoulders. ”Witness the popularity of certain saints in Catholic countries. Bes, being the patron of jovial entertainment and- er- conjugal felicity- ”

”Hmph,” said Emerson again. ”All right, Peabody, don't dawdle. There is a good-sized heap of sand to be sifted.”

I noted the ring on the record sheet and put it into the appropriate box, which had been labeled with the numbers a.s.signed to the square, the house, and the particular room. As I bent again to my task, I was conscious of a strange sense of depression. I ought to have been encouraged by Emerson's use of that loved and loving appellation- i.e., my maiden name, sans t.i.tle. He was using it now as he had originally, with sarcastic intent, but even that was a step forward, for it tacitly awarded me the same equality he would have given a fellow worker who happened to be male.

It was not Emerson who had affected my mood, or even the startling discovery of Mr. Vincey's innocence, though the knowledge that we now had to deal, not with an ordinary criminal, but with that enigmatic and unknown genius of crime who had evaded capture so often, was certainly discouraging. What disturbed me most was being forced to acknowledge I had been mistaken in my a.s.sessment of Sethos's character. I had been gullible enough to believe in that strange man's honor- to trust his word that never again would he impinge upon my life. Obviously he was no more to be trusted in that area than in any other. I ought not to have been surprised or disappointed. But I was.

The swollen globe of the sun hung low over the river, veiled by the rising mist of evening, when we started back to the dahabeeyah. Emerson had driven the men unmercifully and himself just as hard- and me even harder. I was so stiff and cramped with squatting I was glad to accept the offer of Cyrus's arm. Rene had given his to Bertha, watching the oddly a.s.sorted pair- the slim, dapper young man and the perambulating bundle of shapeless cloth beside him- I said thoughtfully, ”I have never been one to interfere with romantic attachments, Cyrus, but I do not approve of that relations.h.i.+p. His intentions cannot be serious- in the way of matrimony, I mean.”

”I hope not,” Cyrus exclaimed. ”His mother is a member of some n.o.ble French house, the old lady would have a fit if he brought home a squashed blossom like that.”

”Please don't mention that to Emerson. He is as prejudiced against the aristocracy as he is against young lovers. However, Cyrus, I cannot approve of an unlicensed attachment, it is not fair to the girl.”

”I suppose you've got her future all planned,” Cyrus said, the corners of his mouth twitching. ”Are you going to give her any say in the matter?”

”Your sense of humor is delightful, dear Cyrus. I haven't had time to consider the matter seriously, first I will have to ascertain what talents she has, and how best to employ them. But I certainly will not allow her to fall back into the life of degradation and abuse she has experienced thus far. Honorable marriage or an honorable profession- what other choices are there for any woman who is given the opportunity to choose?”

Cyrus's hand went to his chin. Finding no goatee on which to tug, as was his habit when perplexed or perturbed, he rubbed his chin. ”I reckon you're a better judge than I am,” he replied.

”I reckon I am,” I said, laughing. ”I know what you are thinking, Cyrus, I am a married woman, not an inexperienced girl. But you are wrong. Men always believe what they want to believe, and one of their least attractive delusions concerns the- er- the . . .”

While I was considering how best to express this delicate matter (and really, there is no way of expressing it delicately), I saw the black-robed form of Bertha sway closer to Rene, and her head tilt toward him. I caught my breath.

”Never mind, my dear, I get your drift,” said Cyrus with a smile.

However, it was not embarra.s.sment that had caused me to lose track of what I had been saying. The girl's sinuous, swaying movement had roused a long-forgotten memory. I had known another woman whose gestures had that serpentine grace. Her name was one of those on the list I had sent to Sir Evelyn Baring.

The mayor was waiting for me when Cyrus and I reached the village square. His dour expression told me, before he spoke, what news he had to give.

”No sign of Mohammed yet?” I inquired.

”He has not returned to the village, Sitt, and some of the men searched the cliffs all day. Ha.s.san ibn Mahmud believes he has run away again.”

”I would like to speak with Ha.s.san.” I sweetened the request with a few coins, adding, ”There will be the same for Ha.s.san if he comes at once.”

Ha.s.san promptly appeared, he had been watching from behind a wall. He frankly admitted that he was one of those Mohammed had asked to join him. ”But I would never do such a thing, honored Sitt,” he exclaimed, opening his eyes as wide as they would go. The effect was not convincing, like those of many Egyptians, Ha.s.san's eyelids were inflamed by recurrent infections, and his other features were not precisely prepossessing.

”I am glad to hear that, Ha.s.san,” I remarked pleasantly. ”For if I believed you meant to harm the Father of Curses, I would tear the soul out of your body by means of my magic, and leave it shrieking in the fires of Gehenna. But perhaps you agreed to go along with Mohammed yesterday in order to prevent him from carrying out his evil plan?”

”The honored Sitt reads the hearts of men!” exclaimed Ha.s.san. ”It is as the honored Sitt has said. But before we could act, the Sitt appeared, shooting and shrieking, and we knew the Father of Curses was saved. So we all ran away.”