The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [111]
I had unconsciously turned to Brother David as I made this explanation; it was his colleague who replied, and his words explained some of his good humor. “Yes, we heard you had stopped digging at the cemetery. I’m glad you took my words to heart, friends. You committed a grievous error, but your hearts were not of adamant; you did right in the end.”
Emerson’s eyes flashed, but he can control his temper when it serves his purpose. “Er—yes. Mr. Jones, we came to talk to you about a serious matter. There have been a number of distressing incidents, not only here but in our house.”
“You are referring to the death of poor Brother Hamid?” David asked.
“In the past ten days,” said Emerson, “there has been a murder, three burglaries, a fire here at the mission and another mysterious fire in the desert. I understand Miss Charity was also attacked.”
“Some naughty child—” Brother David began.
“It was no child who broke into my son’s room.”
“Are you implying that these incidents are connected?” Brother David asked doubtfully. “How can that be? The criminal acts committed against you—and the baroness—have nothing to do with us. Our own small difficulties are of the sort we have come to expect; the hearts of those who wander in darkness are of flint, but eventually our gentle persuasion will—”
Emerson cut him off with a loud “Bah!” He went on, “I warned you before. I warn you again. The dangers that threaten us all may not be entirely of your making, but you are not improving matters by your intemperate behavior. Leave off attacking the priest, or find another place in which to employ your gentle persuasion.”
Brother Ezekiel only smiled smugly and emitted a string of pompous references to truth, duty, salvation and the glorious crown of the martyr. The final item cast a deeper gloom over Brother David’s morose countenance, but he remained silent.
Emerson turned to me. “We are wasting our time, Amelia. Let us go.”
“I bear no malice,” Brother Ezekiel assured him. “The meek shall inherit the earth, and I stand ready at all times to pour the refreshing water of salvation on the spirit of the haughty. You have only to ask and it will be given unto you, for there is no way to the Father but through me. Come to me at any hour, Brother Emerson.”
Fortunately Emerson was at the door when he heard this affectionate epithet, and I was able to propel him out with a hard shove.
We had not gone far when we heard footsteps, and turned to see Brother David running toward us.
“Do you really think we are in danger?” he panted.
Emerson’s eyebrows rose. “What the devil do you suppose I came here for if not to warn you of that? It was not for the pleasure of Jones’s company, I assure you.”
“But surely you overestimate the peril,” the young man persisted. “Brother Ezekiel’s zeal sometimes overcomes his sense of caution. The saints of the Lord do not know fear—”
“But we weaker vessels do,” Emerson said drily. “Don’t be ashamed to admit it, Mr. Cabot.”
“I am concerned,” David admitted. “But I tell you, Professor, the incidents you mentioned cannot be the result of our labors here.”
“What is your theory?” Emerson asked, watching him keenly.
David flung out his hands in a despairing gesture. “It can only be that, by an unhappy accident, we have stumbled into the midst of some sinister conspiracy.”
“An interesting idea,” said Emerson.
“But what can we do?”
“Leave,” Emerson said tersely.
“That is impossible. Brother Ezekiel would never consent—”
“Then let him stay and roast,” said Emerson impatiently. “Take the young woman and go. That idea does not appeal to you? Think it over. If common sense triumphs over your devotion to your leader, we will assist you in any way possible. But the decision must be yours.”
“Yes, of course,” David said unhappily. He stood twisting his hands, the very picture of guilt and indecision.
We walked back to the fountain, where we had left the donkeys. As we rode away Emerson said, “An interesting encounter, Peabody. Cabot knows more than he is telling.