The Hippopotamus Pool (45 page)

"Just a moment," Emerson said, his voice strained and harsh. "No man, you say? No strange human beings?" He used the plural word
nas,
which means "people."

A great light seemed to burst in my brain. "Good Gad!" I cried.

David's eyes grew round. "They said 'man.'" He used the English word. "I thought—"

"No blame to you," Emerson broke in. "There was a woman, then? A strange woman?"

"Women did not come to Abd el Hamel. He went to them. But .. . one night, not long ago ..."

"What did she look like?" Emerson's voice was gentle and encouraging. He carefully refrained from looking at me. I appreciated that.

"She wore the black robe and veil, but she was not Egyptian. No! I cannot tell you how I knew, they spoke softly and apart, I heard no words; but it was not Arabic they spoke, there is a difference in the way the words rise and fall. And she walked like a man." He was panting with excitement now, his eyes shining. "Does it help? Do you know her? Is she the one?"

"It helps," Emerson said. "It may be the clue we needed. Thank you, my son."

"I might have known there would be a woman in this," I remarked sometime later, after exhaustion had finally forced us to disperse.

"That," said Emerson, dropping his shirt onto the floor, "was decidedly an uncalled-for remark, Peabody. After I politely avoided pointing out that you, of all people, ought to have realized—"

"Yes, my dear, and I appreciate your forbearance. All the same, you cannot deny that there is always some female in your vicinity. This is the third—or is it the fourth?—time in a row. I cannot seem to get rid of ..."

Splashing at the washbasin, Emerson was unaware of my failure to complete the sentence. When he turned (after dropping the towel onto the floor), his face was grave.

"It helps, but not enough. We know the mysterious female was not Marmaduke; she was with us on the boat. Who the devil can it be? And don't suggest that Sir Edward is a woman in disguise."

"No, there can be no doubt of his masculinity." Emerson's eyes narrowed and I hurried on. "She must be a tourist—or pretending to be one. We will investigate them tomorrow."

"I wish to God it could be tonight." He sat down on the side of the bed and covered his face with his hands. "Forgive me, Peabody. I should try to put a brave face upon it—you are as worried as I, I know—but the thought of that child, imprisoned, threatened, afraid ... I may as well go over to Luxor. I shan't be able to sleep."

I sat down beside him and put my arms around his shoulders. "You can do nothing tonight, Emerson; the managers of the hotels won't let you roust all the female guests out of bed so that you can roar at them. You must rest, my dearest, or you will be of no use to Nefret. Come, lie down."

"I shan't sleep," Emerson muttered.

I knew he would, though. I had slipped just a few drops of laudanum into his coffee.

I had not taken any myself. I lay down beside him, but long after his deep breathing assured me he was asleep I stared open-eyed into the darkness trying to think, not of Nefret—for I could not bear that—but of some way of finding her.

The pieces were falling into place. David's escape, the meaning of the hippopotamus goddess, the strange behavior of Gertrude Marmaduke ... I had not told Emerson; it would have been cruel to raise hopes that might be dashed. And besides, he would have informed me that "this theory, Peabody, is even more fantastical than your usual theories, and that is saying a great deal!"

He would have been right. Moreover, there was no guarantee that my suspect would continue playing her role. She might have gone into hiding by now with her captive and her confederate.

I did not expect to sleep, but I did at last. When I woke, the cold light of dawn showed at the window; and the first object my drowsy eyes beheld was the form of a golden-haired girl sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the bed.

        CHAPTER 15

No Mystery Is Insoluble-It Is Simply a Matter

    of How Much Time and Energy One Is

                 Willing to Expend

"I hit her with the chamber pot," Nefret said.

It was not the first thing she said, but it was the first statement I clearly remember, out of the joyful confusion that followed. I believe I pinched myself; it was not until I had actually got hold of her that I could believe she was real and not a fantasy shaped by fear and hope. Then the others had to be aroused, and I had to remind Emerson to put on his trousers, and I had to tell Nefret of Ramses's safe return—which she already knew, since her first act upon returning had been to look into his room. At least I think she said that. She was certainly not surprised to see him, but Ramses's face, when he beheld her, was a sight I will long remember. Seldom if ever had I seen that phlegmatic countenance so unguarded.

A certain touch of chagrin mingled with his pleasure, however, after we had gathered on the upper deck and Nefret had begun her story.

"You escaped without assistance?" he asked. "You did not require to be rescued?"

"From Miss Marmaduke?" Nefret sniffed. "She took me for a silly, helpless, civilized girl, and I did all I could to confirm that opinion. You would have been ashamed of me, Aunt Amelia, if you had seen me pretending to believe all the lies she told me."

"No, my dear, I would have been, and am, immensely proud of you," I said warmly. "But did it not occur to you that Miss Marmaduke might be leading you into a trap?"

"Yes, of course," Nefret said, opening her eyes very wide. "Otherwise what would have been the sense of going with her?"

Yet Gertrude's initial actions had made her wonder if she had been mistaken. She had not objected to Nefret's leaving a message, and they had driven to the hotel without attempting to conceal their movements. She would not answer questions, however. She claimed she was only a humble servant of one greater than she, who would supply all the answers.

From Nefret's description I realized that the room to which Gertrude had led her was the same one I had booked for her. She must have kept it on after she moved to the Castle. Nefret noted and approved the balcony and the convenient vine. She still had her knife, and felt certain she could get away if the situation became dangerous.

"She was in quite a strange state," Nefret said. "She kept talking in that vague way of hers about the goddess and the Path; but the most peculiar thing was the way she behaved toward me—almost with reverence. I began to fear she was not a spy at all, but only a believer in some occult nonsense. She ordered tea to be brought to us .. ."

The first sip told Nefret that there was something wrong with the tea. She had to make a decision, and she did so without hesitation. She drank the tea.

Emerson could contain himself no longer. "Good God, child! How could you?"

"How could I not? I had learned nothing that would help me find Ramses or unmask Miss Marmaduke's mysterious superior. Unless they believed me to be helpless, they would make certain I did not learn anything. I threw up the tea, though, when Miss Marmaduke left the room for a moment. She was very nervous," Nefret said thoughtfully. "I have observed that when people are nervous they need to go—"

"Very true," I said. "How did you—"

"Over the balcony. When she came back, I complained of feeling dizzy. She helped me to lie down, and I pretended to fall asleep."

She must not have rid herself of all the drug, for her succeeding memories were hazy and confused. With the assistance of another woman, Miss Marmaduke removed her outer clothing—and her knife. She could not remember what the other woman looked like, except that she wore a severe, dark gown of European design, and that she was stout and strong. After wrapping her in a long hooded robe, the two women placed her in a large traveling trunk and packed pillows and blankets carefully around her before closing the lid. As she drifted in and out of consciousness she was aware of the trunk being lifted and carried and finally set down. The gentle motion that followed told her she was on a boat, and she deduced they were returning to the West Bank. At last it stopped; the lid of the trunk was opened and she saw stars shining in the dark sky. Someone bent over her. It was not Miss Marmaduke, for she heard the latter's voice, high-pitched with anxiety.

"Is she all right?"

"Yes." The other voice was a woman's, deeper and harder. "She will sleep for another hour."

Taking her cue from this, Nefret remained limp and unresponsive as she was lifted out of the trunk and onto a litter. To her annoyance the woman then covered her, even her face, with a cloak or coverlet. She could see nothing as she was carried rapidly along, but other senses told her when they left the cultivation: the scent of moist vegetation was replaced by the drier air of the desert, and then by the sounds and smells of habitation. Someone lifted her from the litter, carried her up a flight of stairs, and placed her on a hard surface. There was a murmured exchange in Arabic; a door closed; and then the cloak was removed. She dared not open her eyes, but she knew the hands that smoothed her hair and straightened her garment even before Miss Marmaduke spoke.

"She still sleeps."

"She will wake soon. Get her to take more tea."

"But you said—"

"This place is no longer safe. As soon as the lady comes, we will move on."

"She may not take it from me. She has no reason to trust me."

"There are other ways." Impatience and contempt hardened the woman's voice. "That is the easiest for her, but if you cannot manage it—"

"Oh, I don't like this," Miss Marmaduke moaned. "I was told it would be tonight. Surely, if I explain to her—"

"That she is Tetisheri reborn and that she must confront the remnants of the body she once inhabited in order to progress along the Way?" A contemptuous laugh. "Never mind the tea, I will deal with her."

The door closed and a key turned in the lock. Nefret ventured to open her eyes a slit. The first thing she saw was her erstwhile governess, pacing up and down and wringing her hands. The room was lit by a single lamp. The walls were of plastered mud-brick, the single window shuttered. The furnishings were meager—a few sticks of furniture, a few baskets, a few pottery vessels.

Her heart pounding, Nefret knew she must think as quickly as she had ever thought in her life. The outlines of the plot were clear now. Miss Marmaduke was just what she had appeared to be, a simpleminded believer in occult religion who had been duped by ... By whom? The leader must be a woman, that mysterious "lady" to whom the other female had referred. And she, Nefret, was to be held hostage until Emerson gave up the mummy and the treasures of the tomb.

All this raced through her mind as she tried to decide what to do. She might learn more, including the identity of the unknown leader, if she remained; but the perils of that outweighed any possible advantages. There was no longer any reason for them to continue the pretense that had delivered her into their hands. She would be drugged or bound and carried off to another place from which escape might be impossible. And if she was to act, it must be instantly, before the other woman returned with the means to "deal" with her.

"So I hit Miss Marmaduke with the chamber pot," Nefret said. "She didn't even see me; she was standing at the window mumbling to herself."

As soon as Nefret looked out, she recognized the houses and walls of a village. Behind the dwellings, silvered by moonlight, rose the cliffs of the high desert. The room was on the upper floor; she was considering how she might best manage the descent when she heard heavy footsteps approaching. Climbing quickly out the window, she lowered herself by her hands and dropped onto a surface of hard-baked earth liberally sprinkled with animal droppings.

"Then you can lead us back to the house," I exclaimed. "Was it that of Abd el Hamel?"

"I don't know. The village was Gurneh, but I never saw the front of the house. The window was at the back, and after I got out the window I was too concerned with escaping to notice my surroundings. If I had not found the donkey, they might have caught me."

Ramses tried not to look pleased at this admission of fallibility. I thought he succeeded rather well, but Nefret saw the look.

"The place is a maze—no streets, hardly even alleyways! I had only been there once before, and ... I suppose you think you could have done better!"

"No," said Ramses. "On the whole, I think I did much worse. I am ..." He cleared his throat. "I am very glad to see you safely back."

Emerson went directly to Luxor next morning—accompanied, I hardly need say, by the rest of us. To his extreme annoyance, he discovered that the vulture had flown. The house was deserted, and further inquiries produced the information that a man of Riccetti's description had taken the train to Cairo early that morning. It was the quickest means of transportation available, and his willingness to sacrifice comfort for speed indicated that he had, somewhat belatedly, realized that his recent indiscretions might get him into serious trouble. We dispatched messages to the authorities in Cairo, telling them to intercept and arrest the villain, and then I persuaded Emerson to return to the West Bank.

"May as well," he agreed, brightening. "Riccetti got away from me, curse him, but if I can lay my hands on Abd el Hamel . .."

My poor Emerson was due to be disappointed again. When we reached Gurneh the village was abuzz with the news. Abd el Hamel had been found in an irrigation ditch by two farmers setting out for their fields. He had not been identified immediately, since several parts of him were missing.

"Now, Emerson, calm yourself," I said. "You are always telling me you resent having your work interrupted by these little criminal encounters; this one is ended, so why don't you stop swearing and get back to the tomb?"

It was not ended, however. There was one more loose end to tie up, and I determined to deal with it later that day while Emerson was busy in the burial chamber. If he had known of my intentions he would have forbidden me to go or insisted on going with me—and in the (unlikely) event that my theory proved to be incorrect, he would never let me hear the end of it.

The only person who observed my departure was Sir Edward. In fact, he had the impertinence to ask where I was going. I informed him I had a little errand to do in Gurneh and that I would return shortly. When he persisted, declaring he would accompany me, I was forced to be blunt. "I am tying up a loose end, Sir Edward. It is a private matter, and I prefer to go alone."

I did not suppose I would be unobserved. When I opened the carved door, Layla was waiting for me, silver on her brow and slim brown wrists. The bracelets jingled softly as she raised her cigarette to her lips.

"Marhaba, Sitt Hakim," she said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "It iskind of you to visit me. Have you come to offer sympathy on the death of my husband?"

"No; I thought congratulations might be more in order." She laughed, and I went on, "I wondered why you married him."

"And now you know?"

"I think so. I did not come to see you. Where is she?"

"She?" Her eyes widened in pretended surprise.

"You know whom I mean. Will you call her or shall I go looking for her?"

The curtains at the back of the room opened and a woman appeared. She was clad in the same severe, uniform-like dress she had worn at the hotel when attending upon the "widow"—and when she had helped Gertrude abduct Nefret. "What do you want of me, Mrs. Emerson?"

"Not you," I said.

She advanced toward me. She was indeed a large woman, several inches taller than I, broad-shouldered and stout as a man. "There is no one else here. Will you go, or must I—"

"No, Matilda." The voice was the one I had expected. It came from the room beyond the curtain. "Bring her here."

With a shrug that sent muscles rippling down her arms, the "nurse" held the curtain back for me.

The room was shadowy, the shutters tightly shut. She stood in a doorway opposite the one by which I had entered. She wore the long black garment of an Egyptian woman, uncannily similar in color and design to the widow's weeds she had worn in Cairo and in Luxor; but now the thin veil that had hidden her fair hair and blurred her features was gone. I knew those features well, though I had not seen them for almost a year—at Amarna, on the day Sethos met his end.