The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [53]
“It is only the cat,” I said loudly. “Abdullah, for pity’s sake, stop thrashing around. You will muss your beautiful robe.”
Abdullah had never cursed in my presence. He did not do so now, but he sounded as if he were strangling on repressed epithets.
“Damnation,” said Emerson. “What a nuisance. I refuse to take a cat to dine at the Luxor, Amelia.”
“Throw it overboard,” Abdullah offered.
I ignored this suggestion, as Abdullah no doubt expected I would. “We haven’t time to take it back to the house. Perhaps the boatman has a bit of rope we can use as a lead.”
“I don’t approve of dragging cats around on a lead as one does a dog,” Emerson declared firmly. “They are independent creatures who do not deserve such treatment.” The cat walked along the bench, balancing like an acrobat, and settled down next to him. “Such a fuss over a cat,” Emerson grumbled, scratching Anubis under his chin. “If he wanders away, he will simply have to fend for himself.”
Emerson and I often attract considerable attention when we appear in public. I hope I may not be accused of vanity when I say that on this occasion it was no wonder all eyes were drawn to us as, arm in arm, we swept into the dining salon of the hotel. Emerson’s splendid height and ruggedly handsome features were set off by the stark black-and-white of his evening dress, and he walked like a king. I fancied I looked rather well myself. However, I suspected that some of the wide-eyed stares focused on us—and the smothered laughter that rippled through the room—were occasioned by something other than admiration. Anubis had refused to stay in the cloakroom. He stalked along behind us with a dignity equal to Emerson’s—tail erect, eyes straight ahead. His expression also bore a striking resemblance to that of Emerson. The phrase “well-bred sneer” comes to mind.
He was better behaved than some of the guests. A party of young male persons (they did not merit the name of “gentlemen”) at a nearby table had clearly taken too much to drink. One of them leaned so far out of his chair to watch the cat that he fell to the floor. His companions were more amused than embarrassed by this performance; with cheers and comments in the accents of brash young America, they hauled him upright and restored him to his place. “Attaboy, Fred,” said one of them. “Show these folks how a sport takes a fall!”
Howard arrived in time to see the end of this performance. “Perhaps Mrs. Emerson would like to move to another table,” he suggested, eyeing the raucous party askance.
“Mrs. Emerson is not to be disturbed on account of rowdies,” said Emerson, beckoning the waiter. He addressed this individual in tones loud enough to be heard throughout the dining salon. “Kindly inform the manager that if he does not remove the people over there at once, I will remove them myself.”
The young men were duly removed. “There, you see,” said Emerson, smiling at Howard in a kindly fashion. “That is the way to deal with such things.”
We had to explain Anubis, who made his presence known to Carter by sniffing loudly at his trouser leg. I suppose the sound and the accompanying sensation must have been a trifle startling to one who was unaware that there was a cat under the table. Once the situation was made clear, Howard laughed and shook his head. “I should have learned not to be surprised at anything you and the professor do, Mrs. Emerson. It is like you to take charge of poor Vincey’s pet. He is fanatically attached to it, and it does not get on with most people.”
“Since you refer to him as ‘poor Vincey,’ I take it you are of the opinion that he was treated unjustly?” I inquired.
Howard looked a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know the truth of the matter. I doubt