Death Comes as End - Agatha Christie [78]
She stopped with a happy little cry.
‘Oh Yahmose, I’m so glad it’s you.’
He was coming up to her rapidly. She was just beginning another sentence–a recital of her foolish fears, when the words froze on her lips.
This was not the Yahmose she knew–the gentle, kindly brother. His eyes were very bright and he was passing his tongue quickly over dried lips. His hands, held a little in front of his body, were slightly curved, the fingers looking like talons.
He was looking at her and the look in his eyes was unmistakable. It was the look of a man who had killed and was about to kill again. There was a gloating cruelty, an evil satisfaction in his face.
Yahmose–the pitiless enemy was Yahmose! Behind the mask of that gentle, kindly face–this!
She had thought that her brother loved her–but there was no love in that inhuman, gloating face.
Renisenb screamed–a faint, hopeless scream.
This, she knew, was death. There was no strength in her to match Yahmose’s strength. Here, where Nofret had fallen, where the path was narrow, she too would fall to death…
‘Yahmose!’ It was a last appeal–in that uttering of his name was the love she had always given to this eldest brother. It pleaded in vain. Yahmose laughed, a soft, inhuman, happy little laugh.
Then he rushed forward, those cruel hands with talons curving as though they longed to fasten round her throat…
Renisenb backed up against the cliff face, her hands outstretched in a vain attempt to ward him off. This was terror–death.
And then she heard a sound, a faint, twanging musical sound…
Something came singing through the air. Yahmose stopped, swayed, then with a loud cry he pitched forward on his face at her feet. She stared down stupidly at the feather shaft of an arrow. Then she looked down over the edge–to where Hori stood, the bow still held to his shoulder…
VI
‘Yahmose…Yahmose…’
Renisenb, numbed by the shock, repeated the name again, and yet again. It was as though she could not believe it…
She was outside the little rock chamber, Hori’s arm still round her. She could hardly recollect how he had led her back up the path. She had been only able to repeat her brother’s name in that dazed tone of wonder and horror.
Hori said gently:
‘Yes, Yahmose. All the time, Yahmose.’
‘But how? Why? And how could it be he–why, he was poisoned himself. He nearly died.’
‘No, he ran no risk of dying. He was very careful of how much wine he drank. He sipped enough to make him ill and he exaggerated his symptoms and his pains. It was the way, he knew, to disarm suspicion.’
‘But he could not have killed Ipy? Why, he was so weak he could not stand on his feet!’
‘That, again, was feigned. Do you not remember that Mersu pronounced that once the poison was eliminated, he would regain strength quickly. So he did in reality.’
‘But why, Hori? That is what I cannot make out–why?’
Hori sighed.
‘Do you remember, Renisenb, that I talked to you once of the rottenness that comes from within?’
‘I remember. Indeed I was thinking of it only this evening.’
‘You said once that the coming of Nofret brought evil. That was not true. The evil was already here concealed within the hearts of the household. All that Nofret’s coming did was to bring it from its hidden place into the light. Her presence banished concealment. Kait’s gentle motherliness had turned to ruthless egoism for herself and her young. Sobek was no longer the gay and charming young man, but the boastful, dissipated weakling. Ipy was not so much a spoilt, attractive child as a scheming, selfish boy. Through Henet’s pretended devotion, the venom began to show clearly. Satipy showed herself as a bully and a coward. Imhotep himself had degenerated into a fussy, pompous tyrant.’
‘I know–I know.’ Renisenb’s hands went to rub her eyes. ‘You need not tell me. I have found out little by little for myself…Why should these things happen–why should this rottenness come, as you say, working from within?’
Hori shrugged his shoulders.
‘Who can tell?