The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [50]
“Hmph,” said Emerson. He had jeered at me when I rubbed the cat’s paws with butter during luncheon in the time-honored and traditional method of training it to stay in a new home. He had also pointed out that Vandergelt might not thank us if we turned Anubis into a permanent resident. I replied that we would deal with that difficulty when and if it arose.
I had requested that dinner be served early, since I hoped to persuade Emerson into a moonlit stroll—without Abdullah and Daoud. However, when I proposed it he declined. We retired to the library, therefore—Vandergelt had one of the finest collections of Egyptological works in the country—and Emerson took out his pipe.
“Peabody,” he said. “Will you come here?”
He had seated himself on the sofa, a large structure in the Turkish style, with a quantity of soft pillows. I had chosen a straight-backed chair and taken up a book.
“No, thank you, Emerson, I prefer this chair.”
Emerson rose. Picking up the chair, with me in it, he carried it to the end of the sofa and set it down with a thud. “I bow to your wishes, my dear Peabody.”
“Oh, Emerson,” I began; and then, as he loomed over me, fists on his hips and lips curving, I could not but smile. I got up and took my place on the sofa.
“That is better,” said Emerson, joining me and putting his arm around my shoulders. “Much more friendly. Besides, I don’t want to be overheard.”
The cat jumped up onto the other end of the sofa and sat down. Its wide green eyes regarded us unwinkingly. “Anubis is listening,” I said.
“Be serious, Peabody. I want you to promise me something. I do not order you, I ask you.”
“Certainly, my dear Emerson. What is it?”
“Give me your solemn word that you will not go wandering around the cliffs, or anywhere else, alone. If you receive a message asking for your help, or offering to show you where a valuable antiquity is hidden—”
“Why, Emerson, you make me sound like some silly Gothic heroine instead of the sensible, rational woman you know me to be. When have I ever done such a thing?”
Emerson’s lips parted and indignation furrowed his noble brow; but experience had taught him that contradicting my statements led only to further argument, not to the agreement he wanted. “Let me put it this way. You have an unnerving self-confidence, Peabody; when armed with your parasol you consider yourself capable of defeating any number of adversaries. Have I your word?”
“If you will give me yours, to the same effect.” Emerson’s brows drew together. I went on, “You have an unnerving self-confidence, Emerson; you consider yourself capable—”
Laughing, Emerson stopped my speech in a manner I find particularly pleasant. It was a rather short embrace, however; the unwinking stare of the cat seemed to disturb him, for he glanced uneasily at it before speaking again.
“The cases are hardly the same, Peabody, but I am willing to take some precautions. I hope you do not suppose I declined your invitation to walk in the moonlight because the idea was unpleasant to me? No. We are not going out at night until this matter is settled.”
“What matter?”
“Oh, come, Peabody. You are usually the first to find ominous portents and harbingers of disaster in the accidents that befall us. At the time we first discussed the situation, the evidence was inconclusive; but it is beginning to mount up. The search of our room, three attempts at assault or abduction in less than a week—”
“Three? I can only think of two.”
Emerson removed his arm and leaned forward, reaching for his pipe. “The incident at Meidum had certain interesting features.”
At first I could not think what he meant. Then I laughed. “That foolish young German shooting at a gazelle? I told you, Emerson, the bullet came nowhere near me. Consider, as well, that only a madman would try to murder me in broad daylight with witnesses all around. Success would have been tantamount to suicide for the killer; that hasty temper of yours would have moved you to exact retribution on the spot. Oh, it is too absurd.”
“I am rather inclined to regard the young