The Snake, The Crocodile And The Dog by Elizabeth Peters

Author:Elizabeth Peters
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1973-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

The Snake, The Crocodile And The Dog

CHAPTER 10

“The worse a man is, the more profound bis slumber,

for if he had a conscience, be would not be a villain.”

In the midday stillness the sound of the shots had echoed far, and, as I later learned, our friends had already noted our absence and begun searching for us. When we emerged from the entrance to the

wadi I saw Abdullah approaching, at a speed I would never have believed he was capable of attaining. When he saw us he stopped and stared, and then crouched on the ground, covering his head with his arms. He remained in that position, motionless as a statue, until we came up to him.

“I have failed,” said a sepulchral voice from under the folds of fabric. “I will go back to Aziyeh and

sit in the sun with the other senile old men.”

“Get up, you melodramatic old fool,” growled Emerson. “How have you failed? I did not hire you as

a nursemaid.”

This is Emerson’s idea of affectionate reassurance. He went on without waiting for a reply. The others were in sight now, led by Cyrus, so I allowed him to proceed without me. Slowly Abdullah rose to his

full height. He does relish drama, as do most Egyptians, but I saw that his dignified face was drawn

with shock and remorse. “Sitt Hakim,” he began.

“Enough of that, my friend. Allah himself could not stop Emerson when he is determined to do

something stupid. He owes you his life. I know that, and so does he, it is just that he has a rather unconventional way of expressing the gratitude and affection he feels for you.”

Abdullah’s face brightened. Finding the sonorous and dignified vocabulary of classical Arabic inadequate for my feelings, I added in English, “We will just have to watch him more closely, that is all. Curse the man, there are times when he is more trouble than Ramses!”

* * *

Fortunately Emerson was feeling rather feeble, so it only required ten minutes of concentrated shouting

to persuade him to return to the dahabeeyah— though not until after he had lectured Rene and Charles about how to proceed with the excavation and insisted Abdullah stay with them to supervise. He would not lean on Cyrus or on me, but when Bertha approached him— any emotion she might have felt effectively concealed by her veil— he accepted the arm she offered.

In silent efficiency she assisted me in my medical endeavours until I began stitching the wound. Fortified by brandy and bullheadedness, Emerson uttered not a sound during this process, which I did not enjoy

a great deal either. When I finished I saw the girl crouched in a corner with her back to me.

“Strange how squeamish some people are about needles,” I said musingly, cutting lengths of sticking plaster.

“Yes, isn’t it,” said Cyrus, turning around. “Why don’t you let me finish that, Amelia? It can’t have

been a pleasant experience for you— “

“Ha,” said Emerson, still supine.

“It will only take a moment,” I replied. “You see how impossible it would have been to apply sticking plaster over all those whiskers, though.

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