The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [116]
In a dangerously soft voice Emerson requested eludication of this speech. I obliged in general terms, omitting certain details of our former encounters with Sethos. When I had finished, Emerson studied me pensively before speaking.
“I had begun to believe you suffered less from woolly-mindedness than other members of your sex, Peabody. I would be sorry to learn I was mistaken, but this farrago of nonsense, this piece of sensational fiction—”
“There is such a man,” Vincey said. Emerson’s critical gaze moved to him and he flushed faintly. “Anyone who has been involved with the illegal antiquities trade knows of him. The unfortunate incident in my past, which I bitterly regret and which I have endeavored ever since to live down, brought me in contact with that trade.”
“Ja, ja,” Karl nodded vigorously. “I too have heard such stories. One is inclined, natürlich, to dismiss them as idle rumor, but no less a distinguished individual than M. de Morgan—”
“Balderdash!” Emerson shouted, his countenance reddening. “It seems necessary to admit that someone took advantage of Vincey’s absence, but let me hear no more nonsense about master criminals. You credulous fools may sit here and spin fairy tales all day if you like; I am going back to work.”
And off he went, with Abdullah close on his heels and the cat close on the heels of Abdullah. Vincey smiled ruefully. “I have lost the allegiance of Anubis, it seems. Cats are unforgiving creatures; he blames me for leaving him, I suppose, and will accept no excuses. I hope, Mrs. Emerson, that you are more merciful. You do believe me?”
“No reasonable individual could doubt your evidence,” I replied, glancing from the little pile of receipts and statements—which I had of course examined carefully—to the solemn face of Karl von Bork. “And the misunderstanding has given me the pleasure of seeing Karl again. How is Mary, Karl? We heard she had been ill.”
“She is better, I thank you. But—the Herr Professor… It is true, then, what we heard from friends? He did not seem to know me.”
“He has suffered a temporary loss of memory in some areas,” I admitted—since it would have been folly to deny it. “But that fact is not generally known, and I hope you will be discreet about mentioning it—especially to Walter, if you have occasion to write to him.”
“We communicate less often than I would like,” Karl said. “A scholar of the most profound brilliance is Mr. Walter Emerson; in my own field of philology he is the brightest star. He does not know of his most distinguished brother’s—”
“We expect a complete recovery,” I said firmly. “There is no need to distress Walter. Much as I would enjoy chatting with you, Karl, I had better return to my duties. Will I see you later? Perhaps you will both dine with us this evening on Mr. Vandergelt’s dahabeeyah.”
I glanced at Cyrus for confirmation of the invitation. Still preoccupied with the problem of drinking tea left-handed, he nodded brusquely.
“It would be better not, I think,” said Vincey. “You are a kind, just woman, Mrs. Emerson, but you cannot be wholly comfortable in my presence just now; it must recall too many painful memories. We will spend the night at Minia and be on our way next morning. Karl must return to the dig; he has already given too much of his time to my affairs. As for me, I am at your disposal at any time and for any purpose.”
“Where will you be?” I asked.
“At my apartment in Cairo, engaged in the same business as yourself.” His face hardened. “My good name has been tarnished, my reputation impugned. That stain will remain until the blackguard who defamed me is caught and punished. My motive for tracking him down is not as compelling as yours, but I hope it will comfort you to know that I am bent on the same object.”
I embraced Karl, which made him blush and stammer, and shook Mr. Vincey’s hand. Cyrus did neither. He did not remove his hand from his pocket until the two retreating