The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [149]
“Certainly I know. He hoped to entice our enemy into attacking him again, so that he could catch the fellow. So far only half that brilliant plan has succeeded. We have been attacked twice—”
“Not we, Sitt Hakim. You.”
“And Mohammed. That is three attempts, and we are no nearer a solution than before.”
“It has made Emerson very angry,” said Abdullah. “He did very foolish things today, even more foolish than is his custom. Once he almost escaped me. Fortunately Ali saw him slip away and followed him. He was almost at the end of the wadi before Ali came up to him.”
“What was he doing?” I demanded.
Abdullah spread his hands out and shrugged. “Who can follow the thoughts of the Father of Curses? Perhaps he hoped they were waiting to find him alone.”
“All the more reason why we must persuade him to leave this place,” I said firmly. “It is too dangerous. I will go now and find him.”
“I will have the rug ready, Sitt,” said Abdullah.
Emerson was not in his tent. It was getting dark; night gathered in the narrow cleft like black water filling a bowl. Stumbling over stones and swearing under my breath (an indication, if any were needed, that my state of mind was far from the calm that ordinarily marks it), I finally smelled tobacco and made out the red glow of his pipe. He was sitting on a boulder some distance from the fire. At first I took the dark shape at his feet for another rock. Then its outlines shifted, like shadows moving.
“Get up at once, Bertha,” I said sharply. “A lady does not squat on the ground.”
“I did offer her a rock,” said Emerson mildly. “So spare me the lecture I feel sure you were about to deliver. She was in need of comfort and reassurance, as any normal female would be under these circumstances. You would not expect an English gentleman like myself to turn away a lady in distress.”
“She might have come to me.” I fear my tone was still a trifle critical. “What is the matter, Bertha?”
“How can you ask?” She continued to crouch at his feet, and I thought she pressed closer to him, if that were possible. “He is out there, watching and waiting. I can feel his eyes upon me. He is toying with me, like a cat with a mouse. Your guards are useless, he can come and go as he likes, and when he wishes to strike at me, he will.” She rose to her feet and stood swaying. Even in the dark I could see the agitated trembling of her draperies. “This is a horrible place! It closes in around us like a giant tomb, and every rock, every crevice hides an enemy. Are you made of ice or stone, that you cannot feel it?”
I would have slapped her soundly across the cheek if I had been able to locate that part of her body precisely. Reaching out blindly, I took hold of some part—an arm, I believe—and shook it vigorously. “Enough of that, Bertha. None of us is pleased to be here, but an exhibition of unwomanly hysteria won’t help matters.”
A voice from the dark repeated, “Unwomanly?”
Ignoring it, I went on, “You will only have to endure one more night here. We are leaving tomorrow.”
“Do you mean it? Is it true?”
Emerson must have inadvertently inhaled a quantity of smoke. He began coughing violently. “Yes,” I said loudly. “It is true. Now go and—and—oh, I don’t care what the devil you do, only stop keening and wailing and getting everyone in a state of nerves.”
She moved away, gliding over the uneven ground as easily as if she could see in the dark. Emerson had got his breath under control. He remarked, “Nothing seems to affect your nerves, MISS Peabody. Or your monstrous self-confidence. So you have decided we are leaving, have you?”
“Circumstances that should be apparent to any reasonable individual demand a brief interlude for rest and reorganization. I cannot collate the rubbings and squeezes I made in the royal tomb under these conditions. The men are entitled to their day of rest, and I used most of my medical supplies on Mohammed, and furthermore… Good Gad, why am I arguing with you?”
“It would be a departure for you to deign to explain your decisions,