Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [118]
“No, you have not,” said Emerson, who was holding his prisoner by the throat. The man was no longer struggling. His terrified eyes were fixed on Emerson.
Gargery was almost as wild-eyed as the prisoner. He kept flailing around, trying to stand, and would, I expect, have gone running off in frantic and futile pursuit had I not restrained him. I was, of course, intensely concerned, but I knew haste would accomplish nothing. It was too late to follow the other villain. I said as much to Gargery, adding, “This fellow knows where his companion has taken her. How you managed to hang on to him I do not know, but when we find her—as we will—it will be because of your courage and loyalty.”
“Not just mine, madam,” said Gargery.
He got to his hands and knees and crawled painfully toward an object that lay motionless on the ground, its tawny fur almost indistinguishable from the sand that surrounded it. Gargery gathered the cat’s body in his arms and sat down, holding it on his lap.
“He kept biting and scratching until that barstard kicked him, madam, square in the ribs. Excuse me, madam. He’s a hero, madam, poor old fellow.”
He bowed his head. Two tears dropped down onto the ruffled fur.
“You are both heroes,” said Emerson. “Selim, get this fellow to the house and lock him up. He has told me where they were to take her.”
The rest of our men, including Amherst, had gathered round. A dozen eager hands reached for the quaking villain, and Emerson added, “He is not to be harmed. Is that understood?”
“Let me go with you, sir,” William begged. Emerson shook his head. “Mrs. Emerson and I will deal with the matter. Selim, I leave you in charge, we must go at once. Look after Gargery—and the cat.”
“I will carry him, sir,” said Gargery, getting to his feet with Selim’s assistance. “It’s the least I can do for the poor, brave . . . Aaah!”
He dropped his burden and clutched at his arm. Horus gave him a malevolent yellow stare, rolled over, and began licking his side.
A hasty and necessarily cursory examination assured me that Gargery had no broken bones, though his bruises were extensive. I knew better than to try to examine Horus, but the energy with which he fought my attempt to wrap him in Emerson’s coat suggested his injuries were less severe than I had feared. I handed the squirming bundle to William, who took it with the same look of terrified disgust with which an elderly bachelor might receive a wet, howling baby.
“Hold him tightly,” I instructed. “He will try to follow us if you let him go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said William. “Whatever you say.”
Emerson kept patting Gargery mechanically on the shoulder, but every muscle in his body was tensed, and I knew I could not keep him from pursuit much longer. Not that I wanted to. I was as frantic as he.
“Now, Emerson,” I began, and got no further. He caught my hand and set off with long strides toward Mena House, where we had left the horses. His pace was so rapid I could not find breath enough to speak until after we had reached the stable. Emerson’s curses inspired the stableman to quick action, and it was Emerson’s hands that saddled and bridled his own steed.
“Where are we going?” I asked breathlessly.
“Kafr el Barud. It’s a hamlet due east of here.” He tossed me into the saddle and mounted.
The grounds of the hotel were crowded with people and vehicles; we were unable to go quickly at first, and Emerson took advantage of the enforced delay to utter a few sentences of explanation.
“They had horses and a rug or cloak to wrap round her. The first man fled with Sennia while the other one was struggling with Gargery.