The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [59]
I was rushing toward the door when Cyrus caught me up. Taking me by the shoulders, he strove to restrain me. “Don’t go riding off in all directions! You shall send your telegram; sit down, compose it, while I find a man to take it over to Luxor.” Leading me to the desk, he thrust pen and paper into my hands.
Desperation and remorse gave me the strength to write. When Cyrus returned I had finished the message. I handed it to him. Without looking at the paper he took it to the servant waiting at the door.
“It will be in London tomorrow,” he said, returning.
“If it traveled on the wings of the wind, it could not arrive too soon for me,” I cried. “How could I have failed to realize… But it was not until now that I knew for certain.”
“I prescribe a little brandy,” Cyrus said.
“I believe …” I had to stop to collect myself before I went on. “I believe I would prefer a whiskey and soda, please.”
When Cyrus brought it to me, he dropped onto one knee like a medieval page serving his master. “You’re not only the sharpest little lady I know, but the coolest and bravest,” he said gently. “Don’t give way now. I reckon I’ve an idea now what this is all about. You and Emerson, young Ramses and the girl—Willy Forth’s daughter, isn’t she? Uh-huh. Say no more, Mrs. Amelia, my dear. And don’t worry about the kiddies. If half of what I’ve heard about that son of yours is true, he can take care of himself—and the girl too.”
I always say there is nothing like a whiskey and soda to calm the nerves. After a few sips I was able to speak more composedly. “What a comfort you are, Cyrus. No doubt you are right. All the same, I don’t know how I am going to endure the suspense until I hear from them. It will take at least three days to get a reply.”
But a benevolent Providence spared me that suspense. No doubt It felt I had quite enough to bear already. When Cyrus’s servant returned from Luxor he carried another telegram with him. I had already retired to my rooms, but I was not asleep. Cyrus himself brought the message to my door. How long it had been sitting in the telegraph office I never determined; Egyptians do not share our Western concern about haste. It was addressed to Emerson, but I did not let that deter me from opening it, for I had seen whence it came.
“Warning received and acted upon,” Walter had written. “All is well. Guard yourselves. Letter follows. Guard yourselves.”
I handed it to Cyrus. He had refused the chair I offered him and stood by the door, hands behind his back, looking extremely uncomfortable. What Puritans these Americans are, I thought in amusement. Only affectionate concern could have brought him to the room of an unchaperoned married lady after nightfall. And I in deshabille, too! I had snatched up the first garment that came to hand when I heard his knock; it was a particularly frivolous, ruffled, beribboned, lace-trimmed peignoir of yellow silk.
The message made Cyrus forget the ruffles and ribbons. “Thank heaven,” he said sincerely. “That relieves one source of anxiety. ‘All is well,’ he says.”
“Evidently I am more skilled at reading between the lines than you, Cyrus. Why does he repeat ‘Guard yourselves?’ Something must have happened.”
“Now that is just your mother’s anxiety, my dear. You don’t know what Emerson said in his message. He must have sent a telegram to his brother some days ago, warning him of danger.”
“Apparently that is the case. He did not tell me he had done so; no doubt he supposed I would jeer at his concern, as I did on the occasions when he tried to convince me of our peril. How cruelly Heaven has punished me for failing to heed him!” Cyrus’s eyes followed me as I paced back and forth, the skirts of my robe swirling around me. “I will take what comfort I can from Walter’s reassurance,” I went on. “There is nothing more I can do.”
“Get some sleep,” Cyrus said kindly. “And don’t worry. I will do whatever I can to serve you.”
But it was not he who served me best.
Needless to say, I did not sleep. I lay awake as I had done every night since it happened—not