The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [177]
The story Emerson told our men was quite different. It was like coming home again, to perch on a packing case on the deck with the men gathered around, smoking and listening, with occasional “Wahs!” and murmurs of amazement interrupting the tale. The stars shone brightly overhead; the soft breeze stirred Emerson’s hair.
Some of what Emerson said was new to me as well. He had had an advantage over me, of course, having “enjoyed” Vincey’s hospitality so long, as he put it. And when I thought of that despicable villain, lounging at ease in his comfortable chair and gloating over his suffering prisoner, I only regretted that Emerson had despatched him so quickly. I had observed the incongruity of that article of furniture in the foul kennel where Emerson had been imprisoned; but not until I heard the note in Emerson’s voice when he referred to it did I fully comprehend how so harmless an object as a red plush armchair could become a symbol of subtle and insidious cruelty. I would never be able to sit in one that color again.
Vincey’s alibi had been wholly convincing to me. The written evidences of his residence in Syria had been forged, of course, but even if I had questioned them I would not have got around to checking their validity until it was too late. Nor had I Emerson’s reason for doubting poor Karl von Bork (I reminded myself I must inquire after Mary and see how I could be of assistance to her), especially when Bertha confirmed…
“What?” I cried, when Emerson reached this part of his narrative. “Bertha was Vincey’s spy all along?”
“One up for me,” Emerson remarked with a self-satisfied smile and a vulgar gesture.
“But her bruises—her courageous gesture in throwing herself at the door of your cell to prevent the guard from entering—”
“She was only trying to get out,” Emerson said. “She wanted no part of murder and she was frantic to escape. Seeing you come popping down out of the ceiling like a demon in a pantomime was enough to throw anyone into a panic. I myself was—”
“Please, Emerson,” I said with as much dignity as I could command. It was not much; the horrid little creature had fooled me completely. I wanted to squirm when I remembered telling her she should overcome her squeamishness. Squeamishness! It must have been she, then, who drove the knife into Mohammed.
“Yes,” Emerson said, when I expressed this opinion. “She was as deadly and sly as a snake. Small wonder, when you think of the life she has led.”
“I suppose her sad story of being thrown into poverty by the death of her father was a lie, too,” I said, clenching my teeth.
“Oh, is that what she told you? I fear her—er—career began much earlier, Peabody; she had been Vincey’s companion for several years. One of his companions … As for her bruises, they were all paint and padding. Weren’t your suspicions aroused when she refused your medical attention and kept her face hidden until the supposed injuries could heal?”
“Oh, curse it,” I said. Abdullah had concealed his face behind his sleeve and several of the younger men were snickering audibly. “Was that why you went to… Never mind.”
“I had set out to win her over early on,” Emerson said. His voice was quite serious. “By appealing, not to her better nature, but to her self-interest. She is a brilliantly clever young woman, with no more morals than a cat. Vincey was only the latest of her—er—associates. Affection had nothing to do with those relationships; she has changed allegiance as often as expediency dictated, seeking, I rather imagine, a man whose amoral intelligence was the equal of her own. Women are sadly handicapped in criminal activities, as in all others; society makes it difficult for them to employ their natural talents without the assistance of a male partner. I fear, Pea-body, that your honorable and forthright character limits you when it comes to dealing with such persons. You always try to bring out the hidden virtues in people. Bertha had none.”
I let him enjoy his triumph, though of course he was mistaken. I remembered the expression on the girl’s face when she said,