Part 59 (1/2)
To my surprise Emerson was not- or at least he put up a good pretense of not being- surprised. If I must be candid, which I always endeavor to be (at least in the pages of this private journal), it was a relief to have her off my hands. How much of an obligation we owed her was questionable, if one balanced the evil against the good, I doubted the debt would have been in her favor. She was a woman and she had been much tried, but really, as I pointed out to Emerson, it would have been hard to find a suitable career for such a person.
”Hmmm,” said Emerson, fingering the cleft in his chin. ”I rather suspect, Peabody, that she has found a suitable career by herself”
He refused to elaborate on this enigmatic remark, so I did not pursue it for fear of provoking sentiments that might mar the activities I had planned for the remainder of the evening.
Thanks to the a.s.siduous a.s.sistance of Cyrus's steward, we were able to catch the afternoon train the following day He salaamed profoundly when we thanked him and bade him farewell, and I a.s.sured him that if he required a recommendation I would be happy to render him the praise his excellent service deserved. It was sad to say farewell to the Nefert.i.ti Nefert.i.ti. I doubted I would see her like again, for as I have said, such elegant sailing vessels were fading from the scene.
Emerson slept a good deal of the way, with Anubis curled up on the seat beside him. We appeared to have acquired another cat. The creature followed Emerson as devotedly as Bastet did Ramses, and I knew my husband's sentimental nature well enough to be certain he would not abandon the animal-especially when it showed him such flattering attention. Anubis's change of allegiance was not a sign of cold-blooded self-interest, it demonstrated an intelligent appreciation of Emerson's superior character. I wondered what Bastet would make of the newcomer. The possibilities were somewhat alarming.
But there was little room in my heart that day for dark forebodings. I had brought a book from Cyrus's excellent library, but I read very little, it was pleasure enough watching the rise and fall of my husband's breast, listening to his deep sonorous breathing, and occasionally yielding to the temptation to stroke the lines of weariness that yet marked his face. Whenever I did, Emerson would mutter ”Cursed flies!” and swat at my hand. At such moments the happiness that filled me was well-nigh unendurable. Soon our loved ones at home would know the same happiness, we had dispatched telegrams early that morning with messages of undying affection and a.s.surances that all was well.
Night had spread her sable wings over the ancient city when we arrived. We hired a carriage to take us directly to the Castle. As it rattled away I looked back and saw, or thought I saw, a familiar form dart into the shadows. But no, I told myself, it could not have been. Kevin had left several hours before us, to catch the up-train to Cairo.
The carriage lamps shone dimly through the dark. The slow plodding of the horse's hooves formed a fitting accompaniment to my melancholy thoughts. It was difficult to imagine the Castle, in which Cyrus had taken such pride, without him Every room, every pa.s.sageway, would be haunted by a tall, kindly ghost. I fancied Emerson must feel the same, in respect for my feelings he remained thoughtfully silent, holding my hand in his.
I a.s.sumed Rene had notified the servants of our imminent arrival, and indeed we were greeted by the majordomo as welcome and expected guests. Bowing, he led the way, but when I realized where he was taking us, I stopped.
”I cannot face it, Emerson. Not the library- not tonight. We spent so many hours together in that room, his favorite . . .”
But Anubis had preceded us along the hall, and the servant threw the door open. The scent of smoke- the smoke of a fine cigar- reached my nostrils. From a deep leather chair near the long table, with its scattering of books and periodicals, a man rose. Cheroot, goatee, beautifully tailored linen suit...
It was the ghost of Cyrus Vandergelt, exactly as he had appeared in life.
I did not swoon. Emerson claims I did, but he is always trying to find evidence in me of what he calls ”proper ladylike” behavior. It is true- and who can blame me?- that my knees gave way and a gray mist swirled before my eyes. When it cleared, I realized that I was seated on the sofa with Emerson slapping my hands and Cyrus bending over me, his goatee quivering with kindly concern.
”Oh, good Gad,” I cried . . . But the Reader can well imagine the agitated iterations that escaped my lips in the course of the succeeding minutes. The warm clasp of Cyrus's hand a.s.sured me it was he, and not his apparition, the application of a mild stimulant restored my customary calm,- and before long we were busily satisfying our mutual curiosity.
Cyrus was thunderstruck to discover he was supposed to be deceased. ”I only got here an hour ago,”
he exclaimed. ”The servants told me you were expected, which was sure good news, but they didn't tell me I was dead. You'd think one of 'em would have mentioned it. How did I pa.s.s on?”
”First we had better hear your story,” said Emerson, with an odd glance at me. ”Where have you been for the past weeks?”
As I listened, a queer creeping feeling came over me. It was not the first time I had listened to such a tale.
”They s.n.a.t.c.hed me right after I got off the consarned train in Cairo,” said Cyrus. ”I felt a little jab in my arm- reckoned a mosquito bit me. Then everything went fuzzy. I remember a couple of fellows stuffing me in a carriage, and that was it, till I woke up in what looked like a luxury hotel- bedroom, bathroom, a fancy sitting room with overstuffed chairs and bookshelves. Only difference was, there weren't any handles on the doors.”
He had been treated with perfect courtesy, he a.s.sured us. The food had been prepared by an excellent chef and served by servants who did everything for him except answer his questions.
”I was beginning to wonder if I'd spend the rest of my life there,” Cyrus admitted. ”I went to bed as usual last night- I guess it was last night- and if you can believe it, I woke up this morning in a first-cla.s.s compartment on the Cairo-to-Luxor express. I raised a commotion, as you might expect, the conductor grinned and leered at me and informed me I'd been a little under the weather when my friends put me on the train. They'd handed him my ticket, straight through to Luxor, so that was all right. Folks, I was in something of a daze, I tell you, but I decided I might as well come on here and then try to figure out what was going on. 1 have a feeling you can tell me.”
”I have a feeling we can,” said Emerson, glancing at me.
I was bereft of speech Visibly pleased at being the chosen narrator, Emerson launched into his tale.
Not a word, scarcely a breath, was heard until he finished.
”Aw, shucks!” Cyrus gasped. ”I tell you flat out, Emerson, I wouldn't believe a yarn like that if anybody else had told it. I don't think I believe it anyhow. How could anybody fool you into thinking he was me? You've known me for years.”
I had been studying Cyrus's lean, lined face. The years had not been as kind to my old friend as I had believed I ought to have known that trim, tall (but not so tall by several inches) body and that remarkably well-preserved face were not his. The goatee had not been his either! How relieved Sethos must have been to dispense with it.
Naturally I put the matter more tactfully. ”We had not seen you for several of those years, Cyrus. His imitation of your speech and mannerisms was perfect, he is a natural mimic, and he had several days to study you, from hiding, before he left Cairo. His most useful weapon, however, was psychological. People see what they expect to see- what they have been told they are seeing. And once they have convinced themselves of that belief, no evidence to the contrary can persuade them they are wrong.”
”Never mind the psychological mumbo-jumbo, Amelia,” Emerson growled. ”1 suppose, Vandergelt, you do not have individuals named Rene D'Arcy and Charles H. Holly on your staff?”