The Hippopotamus Pool (44 page)

"My darling," Evelyn cried. "You saved him, he is unhurt. But oh, heaven, you are wounded!"

"It is nothing," muttered Walter. "But you, my dearest, are you injured?"

"No, sweetheart!"

"Darling!"

"Well, well," said a voice from the doorway. "I seem to have arrived just in time for one of those sickeningly maudlin conversations. What have you been up to, Peabody?"

"Emerson!" I threw myself into his arms. "Oh, Emerson, you are safe! My dearest—"

"Please, Peabody, spare me another exchange of public sentimentality. From the alacrity with which you moved, I believe I may assume you are undamaged." He put me gently aside and knelt by his brother.

"It is only a scratch," Walter assured him.

"Good Gad," said Emerson, "what an idiotic thing to say. You have been reading too many thrillers." He eased Walter's coat off. "Hmph. Not too bad. Don't sit there crooning over him, Evelyn, tear up some extraneous garment or other and bandage his arm." His hand closed over Walter's, and they exchanged a long look before Emerson rose to his feet.

"Ramses is safe, Emerson," I said.

"I know." He hesitated for a moment. "I am sorry, Peabody. Not a trace of her. Not to worry, I had barely begun my inquiries and I don't believethe situation is as desperate as this one was. Which reminds me: were you careless enough to allow that bastard Riccetti to get away?"

I knew Emerson's little jokes were only his way of concealing his ownanxiety in order to lessen mine. I was about to respond in kind when one of the interested watchers cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Professor. Would you care to give us a statement now?" Kevin O'Connell ducked behind Daoud, and Emerson turned, snarling,on the
Times.

"It was somewhat disconcerting," said Emerson, "to stroll into the bar at the Luxor hotel and behold my son being plied with brandy by a plump Dutchman in a red fez."

"I don't see what the fez has to do with it," I remarked. "I would not have recommended brandy to counteract the effects of opium, but it appears to have been effective."

My eyes kept returning to Ramses. I had put him to bed and washed some of the dirt off him and replaced his filthy robe with a clean one; except for his bruised face, he looked quite normal. All the same, I somehow felt the need to keep looking at him.

Emerson was looking at the bruises too. Most of them might have been made by a large hand clamped over Ramses's mouth. Most, but not all.

"Was it Riccetti who struck you, Ramses?" Emerson asked.

"No, sir. Signor Riccetti," said Ramses critically, "is not a well-bred person. He continually interrupted me. We had only been talking for a few minutes when he lost his temper and told the very large man to ... if I recall correctly, his precise words were to 'teach the brat how to hold his tongue.'"

"So it was the very large man who hit you?" Emerson smiled at me. "You robbed me of the pleasure of returning the favor, Peabody. That was the man you killed, I suppose."

"It was Evelyn who killed him, not I."

Emerson looked askance at his sister-in-law. One hand in Walter's, the other resting on the head of David, who sat at her feet, she was the image of an English lady of impeccable lineage and good breeding. "So you told me," Emerson muttered. "I still cannot take it in. Well, well, life is full of surprises."

It had certainly surprised
me
to find Ramses drinking brandy with aDutchman at the Luxor bar. He was still at it (and trying, rather incoherently, to persuade the kindly gentleman to let him follow the rescuers) when we stopped to collect him on our way to the dinghy. By the time we landed near the
Amelia,
the fresh air had restored him, but Emerson insisted on carrying him to his room. I sent Daoud at once to fetch Abdullah, and the rest of us gathered round Ramses's bed, where we were soon joined by Cyrus Vandergelt. I had left the door open, since Emerson was smoking his pipe and Cyrus had lit one of his favorite cheroots.

Silent and unheralded, robed in white and wreathed in smoke, Abdullah appeared in the doorway like a ghostly apparition. David got slowly to his feet. For a long moment neither moved. Then Abdullah held out his arms, and the boy ran into them.

After that was settled, Abdullah, and Daoud, who had followed him, found places to sit on the floor. The room was very crowded, but there was an empty place in our hearts, and no one wanted to be the first to speak of it.

Ramses cleared his throat. "I would like to say two things."

"Only two?" Kevin inquired sotto voce.

Ramses, who had ears like a cat's, fixed him with a cold stare. "First, I am deeply indebted to all of you. You risked your lives to save me."

"Och, 'twas nothing," Kevin said. "I rather enjoyed—"

"Second," said Ramses, "I apologize for my carelessness and lack of foresight. You would not have had to take those risks had I behaved more sensibly. It will never happen again."

"Ha," said his father. "Never mind, my boy, it was not your fault. Er— not entirely."

"It is my fault that Nefret is now in danger," Ramses said. "That is a fact, and nothing you can say will alter it. Nothing I can do will redeem my error, but. .." He turned the catch in his voice into a cough and went on in the same cool voice, "But I would appreciate it if you would start planning how we are going to get her back."

"Well said, by Jupiter!" exclaimed Cyrus. He was sitting on the floor, since there were not enough chairs, and he looked rather ridiculous with his long legs doubled up and his knees on a level with his chin, but his eyes were cool and steady. "That's why I'm here. I sure appreciate you folks letting me know the good news about Ramses right away. Maybe I shouldn't have come barreling on over here at this hour of the night, but I couldn't sleep thinking about that purty li'l gal. If we put our heads together we should be able to figger out where they took her."

"That's the spirit, Vandergelt," Emerson exclaimed. "I will tell you what I learned this evening. It is not a great deal, but what the devil! It is a beginning.

"They were seen boarding the afternoon ferry and disembarking in Luxor. None of the crewmen could hazard a guess as to where they went after that, so I next inquired of the carriage drivers. I finally found one who remembered seeing Nefret and another Sitt get into a carriage. After some animated and maddeningly prolonged discussion they agreed it was the carriage of Ali Mohammed. He had gone off with a party of tourists, no one knew where, so I had to wait for him to return. I need not tell you," Emerson said quietly, "that it seemed an eternity. It was, in fact, over an hour, but I had no choice but to wait. He remembered them—Nefret is hard to forget—and offered to take me to the place where he had driven them."

"The Luxor?" I asked, as Emerson paused to light his pipe. "That was incredibly bold of the cursed woman. How could she hope to keep Nefret there?"

"I don't believe they remained at the hotel," Emerson said. "But before I could continue my inquiries I observed a group of men erupt out of the bar and onto the street. I recognized O'Connell; I caught only a glimpse of his companion, but that particular galabeeyah and turban were strangely familiar, so I looked into the bar to ask what had happened, and was thunderstruck—to say the least—when I saw Ramses. He was beginning to come round, but he was still uncertain as to where he was or how he had got there. Fortunately the Dutch gentleman speaks English quite well; he told me of the dramatic appearance of Daoud, a knife in one hand and the unconscious body of Ramses over his shoulder; he had forced his way past porters, clerks and doormen and was demanding assistance for Ramses and rescue for the Sitt Hakim at the top of his lungs."

"He was clever to think of going to the hotel," I said, with an approving nod at Daoud. "It was the nearest place in which he could count on finding help."

"I looked for him," said Daoud smugly, indicating Kevin. "He is always in the bar of the Luxor."

"A vile canard," said Kevin with a broad, unabashed smile. "It's thankful I am that I was there on this occasion, but once Daoud had told his story, he. had every chap in the place ready to rush to the rescue."

"To resume," said Emerson loudly.

"I beg your pardon, Professor," said Kevin.

"Hmph," said Emerson. "To resume: I stayed with Ramses until I was certain he was all right. He had not the faintest recollection of how he had got there, but he was able to give me some indication of where he had been, and I began to put the pieces together. O'Connell on the rampage, Daoud in Luxor, Ramses delivered—who else could have instigated a melee like that but you, Peabody?"

"Thank you, my dear," I replied, much gratified.

"And I knew I was right," Emerson continued, "when I got near the place and heard shots, shouts, and people battering on doors. I apologize for being delayed, but luckily you didn't need me, did you?"

"No," Evelyn said. "Walter was there. But I think he should go to bed now."

Walter tried to look modest. His eyeglasses had been broken in the struggle but it was not their absence that made his face look so changed. A man does not have to be a hero to gain confidence in himself; he only needs a woman to think he is one. In this case, however, Walter had earned his laurels.

"I am perfectly fit, my dear," he said. "And I cannot rest until we have explored every possible clue. Radcliffe, has it occurred to you that the trip to Luxor may have been a blind? Suppose they returned to this side of the river?"

"In disguise," Ramses said. "Well done, Uncle Walter."

"Thank you, Ramses," said his uncle.

"However," Ramses continued, "it is my opinion that attempting to pick up the trail would be a waste of time. There is no one more anonymous in this land of black-veiled women than another black-veiled woman. We should rather try to determine the identity of the individual who has taken her. Miss Marmaduke is a dupe or a subordinate. She was given orders by someone else."

"The letter proves that," I said impatiently. "It also proves that Riccetti was not responsible for kidnapping Nefret."

Ramses coughed. (I was beginning to dislike that cough.)

"The phraseology of the letter leaves open the possibility that the writer was in league with Riccetti. However, other indications suggest that you are correct, Mother. If he were holding Nefret, he would have taunted you or threatened you during that dramatic confrontation you described so vividly."

"But he is not out of the picture," Emerson muttered, clenching his fists. "He will be back, more dangerous than ever."

"I'm not so sure about that," Cyrus drawled. "You folks haven't had time to sit still and think straight tonight, but consider what happened. Riccetti got away with his low stunts before because nobody in authority really cared what he did to a bunch of poor Egyptians. This time he kidnapped an English boy and tried to shoot up a whole crowd of foreigners. The British administration isn't going to put up with that sort of thing."

"And neither will British public opinion," Kevin said eagerly. "Don't underestimate the power of the press, Mrs. E. and gentlemen. My storyand those of my colleagues will have every British citizen howling for justice."

"Hmph." Emerson stroked his chin. "Do you mean I may be forced to admit that the confounded press is of some use after all?"

"God forbid, sir," Kevin said piously.

"You may be right," Emerson admitted. "All the same, I hope we haven't seen the last of Riccetti. I would like to deal with him personally. See here, O'Connell, you do understand that no word of Nefret's disappearance must get out?"

"Yes, sir, I do." Kevin's face grew sober. "It's not a word I'll breathe till the little colleen is safe home again. You've no idea who could have engineered her disappearance?"

"We know how she was lured away," I said. "And by whom. That knowledge is of no use to us, since Miss Marmaduke has also vanished. At one time I believed that Abd el Hamel was a member of the same group, but of late I have begun to wonder about that. I saw him, or a man closely resembling him, near Riccetti's house a few days ago. Curse it, Abd el Hamel must be involved in some manner; on two occasions he sent would-be killers onto this boat. He wouldn't risk that unless he stood to lose something vital to his interests or those of the individual who employed him."

All eyes turned to David. He sat unmoving, his head bowed, and the silence lengthened.

"We are brothers," Ramses said finally. "He would tell me if he knew."

David raised his head. He looked, not at Ramses, nor at Evelyn, whose hand had stroked his hair, nor at Walter, who had saved his life that evening, nor at his grandfather—nor at me. His gaze locked with that of Emerson, blue eyes and black intent on one another.

"I have thought till my head was empty," he whispered. "I have told you all I know. I spied on Abd el Hamed, yes. I hated him! Often at night when I could not sleep for hunger or bruises, I would creep out and listen, hoping to learn something that would harm him. Many came to see him in secret—the thieves with their stolen goods from the tombs, the dealers from Luxor, the Inglizi who bought the antikas. No strange man came in secret. No man who was—"