The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [62]
He went on to list all the reasons why Cyrus should not make one of the party. Obviously he was reluctant to share the glory, but his arguments had merit. The strongest of them was that Cyrus would try to prevent me from going—and that was unthinkable. I would go mad if I had to sit waiting for news like some feeble heroine of romantic fiction, and I could trust no one but myself to act with the ruthlessness and determination the situation might well demand.
I arranged to meet Abdullah in an hour, in the garden behind the house, and assured him I would find a way of deceiving Cyrus. Do I sound calm and collected? I was—then. I knew I had to be. When I returned to the table where Cyrus awaited me, I gave one of my most convincing performances—a brave, sad smile, a forced cheerfulness.
“He is still pursuing idle rumors,” I said, taking up my napkin. “I am sorry I was so long, Cyrus, but I had to comfort him and make him feel his efforts were useful. Poor Abdullah! He takes this very much to heart.”
We returned to discussing our plans (only his part in them, had he but known) for the afternoon. I allowed myself to become increasingly agitated as he continued to insist I not keep the appointment. “Someone must go,” I cried at last. “I could not bear it if we failed to pursue even the frailest hope.”
“Why, sure, my dear. I have it all figured out. I’ll go in person to direct operations, as soon as you promise me you’ll not leave the house till I get back.”
“Very well. I yield only because I must—and because I know it is the safest course, for him. I shall go to my room now, Cyrus, and stay there, with the door locked, until you return. I think I may take a little something to make me sleep; otherwise the minutes will drag too slowly. Godspeed and good fortune, my friend.”
Cyrus patted me clumsily on the shoulder. Handkerchief to my eyes, I fluttered out of the room.
When I reached my room I found Anubis stretched out on the bed. How he had got there I did not know; he came and went as he pleased, as mysteriously as the afreet the servants believed him to be. Abdullah hated him as much as he feared him, blaming the poor creature for Emerson’s capture. Of course that was nonsense. Cats cannot be held guilty for their actions, since they have no morals to speak of. If I had been given to superstitious fancies, I would have imagined Anubis regretted his inadvertent involvement in the disaster. He spent a good deal of time wandering about the house as if in search of something—or someone?—and he was often in my room, tolerating and even inviting my caresses. The feel of a compliant cat’s fur has a surprisingly soothing effect.
After greeting the cat in an appropriate if hurried manner, I hastened to change. I dared not wait until after Cyrus had left the house; Abdullah and I had to cross the river and travel a considerable distance, and I wanted to reach the suspected house before nightfall. A surreptitious entry into unfamiliar territory is hazardous in the dark. It took only a few minutes to rip off my ruffled gown and replace it with my working costume. I reached automatically for my belt; a voice audible only to my inner ear stopped me. “You jangle like a German brass band, Peabody,” it reminded me. Sternly repressing the emotion that threatened to overcome me, I abandoned my belt, slipping revolver and knife into my handy pockets. I locked my door—making certain Anubis was inside—and went onto the balcony. The cursed vine I had counted upon to assist my descent proved to be too far away. I had to hang by my hands and drop a considerable distance. Fortunately there was a flower bed below. Cyrus’s petunias and hollyhocks cushioned my fall nicely.
Abdullah was waiting. I did not question or commend at that time the arrangements he had made—the donkeys, the felucca ready to sail, the horses waiting on the other side. One thought permeated every cell in my frame. Soon I would see him—touch him—feel his arms around me. For, as I am sure I need not say, I did not mean to content myself with a cautious reconnoiter