The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [43]
It was too late. The narrow way was lighted only by a lantern some considerate householder had hung over a door a few feet behind us, but it cast sufficient light to allow us to see, in the shadows beyond, the hulking forms of several men. Their turbans showed pale in the darkness.
“Damnation,” said Emerson calmly. “Get behind me, Peabody.”
“Back to back,” I agreed, taking up that position. “Curse it, why did I come out without my belt of tools?”
“Try the door there,” Emerson said.
“Locked. There are other men ahead,” I added. “At least two. And this is only a flimsy evening parasol, made to match my gown, not the one I usually carry.”
“Good Gad,” Emerson exclaimed. “Without your parasol we dare not face them in the open street. A strategic retreat would seem to be in order.” With a sudden movement he whirled and kicked out at the door I had tried. The lock gave with a crack, the door swung back; seizing me around the waist, Emerson thrust me within.
Squeals and flutters greeted my abrupt appearance. The two men who had occupied the room fled, leaving the narghila they had shared bubbling gently. Emerson followed me and slammed the door. “It won’t hold them for long,” he remarked. “The lock is broken and there is no piece of furniture heavy enough to serve as a barricade.”
“There is surely another way out.” I indicated the curtained doorway through which the men had gone.
“We will investigate that if we must.” Emerson leaned against the door, his shoulders braced. “I don’t fancy more dark alleys, though, and I would rather not rely on the kindness of strangers—especially the sort of strangers that inhabit a warren like this. Let us consider other options, now that we have achieved a momentary—”
He broke off as a sound from without reached us through the flimsy panels of the door. I started, and Emerson swore. “That was a woman’s scream—or worse, that of a child.”
I flung myself at him. “No, Emerson! Don’t go out there. It may be a trick.”
The cry came again—high, shrill, quavering. It rose to a falsetto shriek and broke off. Emerson tried to loosen my grip; I struggled to hold on, throwing my full weight against his.
“It is a ruse, I tell you! They know you, they know your chivalrous nature! Fearing to attack, they hope to lure you out of sanctuary. This is no simple attempt at robbery; we were deliberately led astray.”
My speech was not so measured, for Emerson’s hands had closed bruisingly over mine, and he was employing considerable force to free himself. It was not until a cry of pain burst from my lips that he desisted.
“The damage is done, whatever it was,” he said breathlessly. “She is silent now … I am sorry, Peabody, if I hurt you.”
His taut muscles had relaxed. I leaned against him, trying to control my own ragged breathing. My wrists felt as if they had been squeezed in a vise, but I was conscious of an odd, irrational thrill. “Never mind, my dear. I know you didn’t mean to.”
The silence without did not endure. The voice that broke it was the last I expected to hear—bold, unafraid, official— the voice of a man giving crisp orders in faulty Arabic.
“Another ruse,” I exclaimed.
“I think not,” said Emerson, listening. “That chap must be English; no Egyptian speaks his own language so badly. Have I your permission to open the door a crack, Peabody?”
He was being sarcastic. Since I knew he would do it anyway, I agreed.
By comparison to the darkness that had prevailed earlier, the street was now brightly lit by lanterns and torches carried by men whose neat uniforms made their identity plain. One of them came toward us. Emerson had been correct; his ruddy compexion proclaimed his nationality just as his erect carriage and luxuriant mustache betrayed his military training.
“Was it you who screamed, madame?” he inquired, politely removing his cap. “I trust you and this gentleman are unharmed.”
“I did not scream; but thanks to you and your men we are quite unharmed.”
“Hmph,” said Emerson. “What are you doing in this part of the city, Captain?”
“It is my duty, sir,” was the stiff