The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [69]
‘What the devil do you mean, creeping up on us like that?’ he shouted.
‘Emerson, please lower your voice,’ I begged. ‘The noise is positively deafening in this confined space. I do wish you would not be so precipitate; just look at you, you are bleeding all over the antiquities. I could have told you it was Selim approaching.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’ Emerson picked up the knife and freed my hands and feet.
‘You did not give me the opportunity, that is why. Fortunately I brought two handkerchiefs. Let me tie up your wrists, you cannot climb a rope when your hands are slippery with blood.’
‘Oh, bah,’ said Emerson. But he said no more because Selim was spouting questions and excuses. He had not known how to proceed. Had he delayed too long? Had he come too soon? What should he do now?
‘Get out of here, I should think,’ I replied to the final question. ‘I hope you will not take this as criticism, Selim, for you acted quite properly, but if someone cuts that rope we will be in deep difficulty.’
‘Deep indeed,’ said Emerson. ‘Selim–I apologize for shouting at you, my boy, I was not myself – how did you elude the gentlemen who climbed that same rope a few minutes ago?’
‘No one climbed it, Father of Curses. I saw no one. I heard terrible noises, the falling of rock, the voices of demons from the depths, but finally they died away. Sitt Hakim, I did not hesitate out of fear, I waited only because –’
‘Impossible,’ I exclaimed.
‘Hmmm,’ said Emerson, fingering his chin. ‘I suggest we postpone further discussion until after we have acted upon your sensible suggestion, Peabody. I will go first, then you, my dear. Put out the lantern before you follow her, Selim; some of these scraps are as dry as tinder.’
Emerson was waiting for me on the lip of the opening, a lighted candle in his hand. ‘This explains one mystery,’ he said, indicating a second rope that hung down from the edge. ‘Our friends departed by means of the back door. Shall we follow their example?’
I took the candle from him and leaned out. ‘But it is a dead end, Emerson; I can see the bottom of the cleft, only a few feet below.’
‘Nonsense. The rope would not be here if it led nowhere. Curse it, Peabody, don’t stand so close to the edge. I will go down and have a look.’
Grasping the rope, he lowered himself. ‘Ah,’ he said, with satisfaction. ‘I thought as much. There is an opening. A bit narrow, but I believe I can . . . Stop where you are, Peabody, don’t so much as stir until I give you permission.’
Slowly he sank down out of sight; first his feet and lower limbs, then his body, and finally his head were swallowed up by shadows. Selim, still in the tunnel awaiting my word to proceed, began to wail.
‘Oh, Sitt, what is happening? Oh, Father of Curses, do not leave me here!’
‘Be quiet!’ I said sharply, for my nerves were beginning to feel a certain strain. So thick were the shadows below, I felt as if I had seen Emerson swallowed up by black quicksand.
Then his head rose out of the depths. ‘All right, Peabody,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Wait until you feel three sharp tugs on the rope before you follow me; I would rather not risk a double weight. It is easy going once you squeeze through that narrow space, my dear; can you manage?’
The face that looked up at me wore an encouraging smile, but his furrowed brow was evidence of his concern.
‘I got down this far, didn’t I?’ I replied. ‘Oh, Emerson, do be careful.’
‘And you, my love.’
‘Sitt Hakim,’ said a quavering voice from the tunnel. ‘Something is holding my foot. It is an afreet, I think.’
Kneeling, my eyes fixed on the taut, quivering rope, I said over my shoulder, ‘Give me your hand, Selim. My power will pass through you down to your foot and the afreet will let you go.’
Sure enough, he was able to free himself from the afreet (actually a bit of fallen stone), and I helped him out onto the ledge, suggesting that he remain motionless since the space was confined. Scarcely had he emerged than the rope went limp.
‘Emerson!’ I shrieked,