Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [25]
Be that as it may, as soon as the train slowed, the brave fellows got to their feet, and when one of them saw Emerson descend from the carriage, the whole group erupted into wild gesticulations of welcome. Outstanding among the men in physical stature as in dignity was the reis, Abdullah, who had served as our able foreman for many seasons. He immediately enfolded Emerson in a fraternal embrace, the voluminous folds of his robe billowing around my husband like a sudden snowstorm. Emerson suffered this gesture stoically, and sent the rest of the men scampering off to assist with the removal of our baggage.
I received Abdullah’s respectful and affectionate salutation somewhat distractedly, for, to my utter astonishment, there before me was the man who had called himself Nemo.
He made no attempt to conceal his presence. He stood aloof from the other men, his arms folded across the breast of his ragged robe. He was bareheaded, and the noonday sun turned his red-gold hair to flame.
Abdullah’s eyes followed the direction of my gaze. “I hope I did not err in allowing him to remain here, sitt. He is dressed like the lowest beggar, but he said Emerson had hired him, and when we saw he was an Inglizi . . .”
“Yes, quite right, Abdullah.” So that was why the fellow had abandoned his disguise. Our loyal men would have driven him away otherwise.
Nemo strolled toward me. “Good morning, Mrs. Emerson. Or should it be good afternoon? I am a trifle out of practice with expressions of polite usage.”
The fellow had the effrontery to be sarcastic. His drawling voice and educated accent, the courteous inclination of his head (in lieu of removing his hat, of which he had none) were in the best manner. He had even shaved. I must confess that the countenance thus displayed would have prejudiced me in his favor had I not had reason to suspect him of the most appalling duplicity. It was no wonder I had taken him for a Berber. His high cheekbones and hawklike nose, his broad brow and thin lips were characteristic of that race.
“How is your arm?” I inquired.
“I beg you will not mention it.” The scowl that accompanied this courteous disclaimer turned the statement into a demand.
“It is necessary for me to mention it in order to ascertain whether you are fit for the duties for which you have been employed,” I declared. “I do not allow anyone on my expeditions to suffer from an ailment I can relieve. That includes the donkeys. Abdullah—”
“Yes, sitt,” Abdullah said resignedly. “The donkeys have been washed.”
“Good. You see, Mr. Nemo, I am showing you the same concern I would show a donkey—an animal which in many ways you resemble. If you are not ready to accept this, you can take yourself off.”
A spark of emotion that might have been amusement or anger warmed the sea-blue depths of Nemo’s eyes. They were clear; apparently he had not recently indulged in drugs. “Very well, Mrs. Emerson. I will demonstrate my ability to carry out my duties, and I think I had better begin at once. Young Ramses is about to be flattened by that packing case, which is too heavy for him.”
So saying, Nemo departed. His leisurely stride was deceptive; he covered the ground at quite a rapid pace, arriving on the scene he had described just in time to lift the case under whose weight Ramses was slowly sinking to his knees.
“Well, Abdullah,” I said. “What do you think?”
I had the greatest regard for Abdullah, whom I had known for many years. He was a splendid specimen of manhood, almost as tall as Emerson; and though his hair and beard were snowy white, he had the strength of a man half his age. He and his group of associates had been trained by Emerson in the methods of proper excavation, so that many of them were better qualified than the majority of European archaeologists. They were in great demand by