The Snake, The Crocodile and The Dog by Elizabeth Peters

Author:Elizabeth Peters [Peters, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Women Detectives, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery & Detective, Egypt, General, Peabody; Amelia (Fictitious Character), Women Sleuths, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780606305075
Google: KiRiPwAACAAJ
Publisher: Demco Media
Published: 1992-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

I had left our uninvited guest to herself, since she had intimated that she did not find my company desirable. So far as I was aware, she had not emerged from her room. Her meals were carried to her and Cyrus insisted that her door be locked at night. That evening I decided that a serious discussion with the young woman could not be postponed any longer. I had hoped Emerson would want to question her, but to the best of my knowledge he had not done so. His intent was clear to me now. I had suspected from the moment he expressed it that his proclaimed intention of ignoring Vincey unless the latter again attempted to interfere with him was a flat-out lie. "If he turns up, I'll settle the fellow," indeed! He expected Vincey would "turn up", he fully intended to "settle the fellow," and in order to hasten the confrontation he meant to leave the safety of the dahabeeyah and station himself somewhere in the desert, like a tethered goat staked out as a lure for a tiger, in the hope Vincey would initiate another assault. It was also clear to me that Emerson was still skeptical about the Lost Oasis. (I had to admit I would have doubted the story myself if I had not actually been there.) Hence his references to hidden tombs and Nefertiti's treasures. He would employ any means possible to intrigue an enemy and encourage him to attack. He meant to go his solitary, stubborn way without consulting the rest of us or taking us into his confidence. It left me with no choice but to do the same, and since I was cognizant of facts Emerson did not know and would not have admitted if he had, the burden was as usual on my shoulders.

Bertha was sitting by the open window. The cool night breeze stirred the muslin curtains. A single lamp burned by the bed. In its light I saw that she was wearing one of the robes I had purchased at a village bazaar. It was black— only young unmarried girls wore colors— but unlike her original garment it was clean and unworn. She looked like a giant crow huddling against an approaching storm, and as she turned toward me I saw her lower her hand from her face. The veil was in place.

"Why do you feel it necessary to hide your face from me?" I asked, seating myself in the chair next to hers.

"It is not a pretty sight."

"Still? The swelling should have gone down by now. Let me have a look."

"I do not need your medicine, Sitt Hakim. Only time— if you will allow me that."

"For your face to heal, yes. For other things— no. Not while the life of the Father of Curses is still in danger."

"And yours, Sitt Hakim." There was a strange note in her voice, as if she smiled as she spoke.

"Yes, I suppose so. Bertha"— I still stumbled over that inappropriate name— "we have left you in peace, to rest and recover your health.

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