The Serpent on the Crown (10 page)

With an exclamation of pleasure, Nefret went to the door to admit him and offered her hand. He bowed over it and greeted me in military fashion, clicking his heels and inclining his head.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he began.

“Not at all,” Nefret replied. “In fact, you have saved our lives, Mr. Ayyid. We were both dying of curiosity.”

I asked Fatima to bring fresh coffee and Ayyid eyed us quizzically. “As I understand it, you have been involved in the case from the beginning. You were at the hotel last night. That is the reason for my visit, to request information from you.”

“Not until after you have given us the latest news,” I said, smiling to indicate it was just one of my little jokes. “Has Mrs. Petherick returned?”

“No. Mrs. Petherick’s children insist that she has been abducted, and the police, as well as the British authorities, have been asked to assist in the search for her.”

He took out a notebook and pencil, and opened the former.

“This is an official visit, then?” I inquired.

“Yes, madam.”

“You can count on our full cooperation, of course,” I declared. “The Professor is in Cairo, but my son is here. Nefret, will you go and tell Ramses he is wanted?”

I noticed that Mr. Ayyid’s black eyes followed Nefret’s slim form as she left the room. They had a look of wistfulness quite alien to his normal keen gaze. The two had not often met socially, for Mr. Ayyid had consistently if courteously refused our invitations, but he had called upon her on several occasions to assist in identification of remains. Meeting under such circumstances would not seem conducive to the development of tender feelings, but it was obvious to me, for I am sensitive to such things, that he had conceived a great admiration for her. Being a gentleman and devoutly religious, he would never tell her so. What he needed was a wife. Daoud had a granddaughter, a pretty girl of seventeen, who had attended Miss Whiteside’s school in Luxor…

Ayyid shifted position, and I realized I had been staring rudely as my thoughts wandered. “I may as well give you the background,” I said. “It will save time in the end. This business began when Mrs. Petherick called upon us two days ago.”

I had not got far before Ramses and Nefret came in. Fatima brought more coffee and a plate of buns. She hadn’t been asked to do so, but she was looking for an excuse to listen in on the conversation. I continued my account, up to and including our search of Mrs. Petherick’s rooms the previous night, and then invited Mr. Ayyid’s comments.

“It is a strange story,” he said slowly.

“Not so strange, if one considers Mrs. Petherick’s probable motive,” said Ramses. “The whole thing is a hoax, designed to bring her publicity and promote the sale of her books.”

“Then you are not of the opinion that she was abducted?” Ayyid asked. He looked at Nefret, but it was Ramses who answered.

“I believe she stole out of her room, unseen by Abdul, and in disguise. You know the arrangement of her suite, sir. There is an outer door, leading to a small vestibule; with two inner doors, one on the right leading to the bedchamber and the other, opposite the outer door, leading to the sitting room. She may even have waited in the bedchamber until Abdul and I were in the sitting room and then slipped out.”

Ayyid made a note. “Several of the guests claim to have seen a tall figure robed in black descending the stairs,” he said dryly.

“I am not surprised,” said Ramses with equal dryness. “There was no such figure. She threw the empty robe over the balcony.”

Nefret leaned forward. “What did Mr. and Miss Petherick have to say? Surely they don’t believe their stepmother was carried off by a supernatural demon.”

Mr. Ayyid did not point out, as he might have done, that he was supposed to be the one asking the questions. “They claim she was abducted by someone who wanted the statue. How valuable is it?”

“Quite valuable,” Ramses said. “But that is an absurd suggestion. Mrs. Petherick didn’t have the statuette in her possession; we did.”

“Who was aware of that?”

“Everybody in Luxor, I should think,” Ramses replied.

“And there have been several attempts to break into your house,” Ayyid said sternly. “Why did you not inform the police of these incidents?”

“We prefer to deal with such things ourselves,” I said. Mr. Ayyid’s expression strongly suggested that he disapproved of this point of view. I was about to elaborate, reminding him of our long experience in criminal matters, when Ramses got in ahead of me.

“There was no harm done, sir, and no danger of harm. Only a fool would believe he could locate a hidden object without a prolonged search and the risk of—”

He broke off abruptly. Ayyid’s eyes narrowed.

“But Mr. Adrian Petherick is not a sensible man, is he? And he is obviously obsessed with retrieving the statue.”

“He’s not such a fool as to risk something like that,” Ramses said. “He knows my father intends to return the statue to Mrs. Petherick; he heard him say so.”

“She is the legal owner?”

“We assume so.”

“But you don’t know for certain?”

“We are unacquainted with the terms of Mr. Petherick’s will,” Ramses said. “If you believe that question is relevant, you are in a better position to determine the answer than we.”

“Perhaps.” Mr. Ayyid made another note. “Can you describe the first intruder?”

“He had gone by the time Ramses arrived,” I said, since Ramses was looking somewhat put out. “I saw only his legs disappearing over the wall. He wore European trousers. Ali claims he was tall and formidably strong, but I do not believe we can rely on that assessment.”

“I would like to question Ali Yussuf.”

“Feel free to do so, but you won’t get much out of him. It was dark and he was dozing.”

“And on the second occasion? You would not say no harm was intended that time.”

“It may be that there was no intention of causing serious injury,” Ramses said. “The primary purpose was to get us out of the house so that the fellow could conduct another search.”

“Hmmm.” Ayyid looked skeptical. “No one caught even a glimpse of the criminal?”

Ramses explained about the footprints. “We haven’t had a chance to develop the film yet. I will make sure you see them, but I admit there was nothing distinctive about them.”

“Bare feet,” Ayyid said thoughtfully. “Any man can take off his shoes.”

“May I ask why you are putting such emphasis on this affair instead of pursuing the search for Mrs. Petherick?” I inquired.

My critical tone did not disconcert Ayyid. He closed his notebook and rose. “I would do so, Mrs. Emerson, if I had the slightest idea of where to look. However, at this moment we have no evidence that her disappearance can be considered a criminal matter. Should you hear anything, I hope you will forgo your normal habits and communicate with…Allahu Akhbar! What is that?”

He had not seen it coming. We had; but we were so thunderstruck and its progress was so rapid we had no time to react—a large tawny beast, moving in great bounds like those of the lion it resembled. Behind it was Daoud, waving his arms and uttering broken ejaculations. Behind Daoud the curiosity seekers scattered in all directions, shrieking and shouting. The beast rose on its hind legs and threw itself at the screened door with a force that made that structure shudder. It began to howl.

I must confess that even I recoiled. All I could think of was the Countess Magda’s tales of vampires and werewolves. Then Daoud came charging up. He was too out of breath to speak at first; he grabbed hold of the creature’s collar and forced it down. It immediately collapsed at his feet, rolled over, and waved four enormous paws.

Ramses was the first to recover himself. “I said a dog, Daoud, not a lioness! Where on earth did you—”

“It is a dog, Brother of Demons,” Daoud panted. “A fine dog, a gentle dog. And you hear how loud it can bark!”

Fatima had fled into the house. Opening the door a crack, she cried, “Daoud, you are a crazy man. We cannot have that creature near the children.”

“We’ll see,” said Nefret. “Bring it in, Daoud.”

Daoud raised the creature to its feet and led it in, maintaining a firm grip on its collar. There was a moment of suspense, while the dog looked from one of us to the other, with an expression of intense interest. I could not but suspect it was considering which throat to tear out first, but in this case I was wrong and Nefret, who had advanced to meet it, was right. She had always had a knack with animals of all species. The dog dropped at her feet and repeated its performance of submission, paws flopping, tail thrashing. Nefret scratched the great jaws.

“You see? It’s perfectly harmless,” she said.

“You could put your hand in its mouth,” said Daoud proudly. “It belongs to Mohammed ibn Rashid, from Gurneh. He has eight children, and they pull its ears and ride it like a pony. He is happy to give it to you.”

“What is its name?” Nefret asked.

Daoud looked blank. Only domestic pets have names, and pets as such are a luxury in a country where a man must struggle to feed his children. Veterinarian medicine is almost nonexistent, even if the ordinary fellah could afford it. Now that I examined the dog more closely, I saw its ribs were too prominent, and that there were untended sores on various parts of its body. Wriggling with pleasure, the dog sat up and leaned heavily against Nefret’s lower limbs, lifting its head to invite additional caresses.

“I shall call her Amira,” Nefret said.

“She does not look like a princess,” said the voice of Fatima, still behind the door.

“She will, when I’ve fed her up and tended to her,” Nefret said. “And when she gets her full growth.”

“You mean she is not full grown?” I exclaimed. “How large is she likely to get?”

Nefret laughed. “Goodness only knows. But she’s barely out of the awkward puppy stage. Look at the size of those paws, and at her teeth.” Unconcernedly she pried the dog’s jaws apart. The teeth certainly looked healthy.

Fatima opened the door a little wider, and out came the Great Cat of Re. He stopped and stared. His huge plumy tail began to switch back and forth. Then he marched up to the dog and smacked it across the nose. The dog lay down and covered its head with its paws. The Great Cat of Re swaggered to the settee, jumped up, and began cleaning his foot.

Nefret led Amira off toward the clinic, and I said, “Well, Daoud, it seems the creature is as docile as you claimed. But why did she fling herself at the door?”

“She wanted to come in,” said Daoud.

Looking a trifle bemused, Mr. Ayyid took his leave and the rest of us sat down for an enjoyable gossip—Daoud’s specialty. It was sometimes necessary to winnow the grains of truth from the chaff of rumor, but his report was a good deal more entertaining than the terse comments of Mr. Ayyid. He had got the news of Luxor from his son Sabir, who operated a popular boat service to the East Bank, and the views of the West Bank villagers during his visits to friends early that morning. Contrary to what some might believe, the supposedly enlightened European and American tourists were as given to wild superstition as the fellahin of the West Bank.

“Many ladies in the hotel saw the black afrit last night, walking in the hall or looking in their windows,” Daoud explained.

“That’s a good name for it.” Ramses leaned back, hands folded. He was devoted to Daoud, but sometimes he was unable to resist egging him on. “But, Daoud, why would the afrit hang about the hotel after it had carried Mrs. Petherick off? She didn’t even have the statue; she had given it to us.”

Daoud considered this. “Once an afrit has been freed to do evil deeds, it will go on doing them until it has finished the task for which it came.”

“That is eminently logical,” Ramses said gravely. “However, we can’t return the statue to its owner, since we don’t know where it came from.”

“The Father of Curses can send the afrit away,” Daoud said. “The villagers wish to know when he will do that. They all want to come and watch.”

“I’ll speak to Father,” Ramses promised.

“No, you will not,” I said. “Daoud, have you and Selim learned anything about where and when the statue was found? He meant to question the dealers and the better-known tomb robbers.”

Daoud shook his head. “No one has admitted to finding such a thing. But we will go on asking.”

After Daoud had departed, Ramses said, “I doubt Selim will come up with anything useful. We’ve a better chance of tracing the thing if we start with Petherick and the dealer from whom he purchased it. Father means to pursue that line of inquiry while he’s in Cairo.”

“That isn’t all he means to do. You know what he’s up to, don’t you?”

“I’m beginning to think I do.”

We sat in silence for a time, and then I said, “How are your translations coming along?”

Ramses’s face lit up, as it always did when someone had the common courtesy to ask about the work that interested him most. “Very well, Mother. I’ve been working on a group of ostraca we found near the temple—prayers for forgiveness, one might call them. They cover a long period of time, and since only a few are dated, one must rely on textual evidence and linguistic changes to sort them into a sequence.”

“Most interesting, my dear. Er—why do you want to do that?”

Ramses leaned forward, hands clasped and eyes bright. “There is a distinct change over time in the attitudes of the penitent—a greater consciousness of wrongdoing, of personal sin. Professor Breasted has lectured on the development of moral standards, as demonstrated in the Wisdom Texts; I see something of the same sort in these simple prayers. Instead of denying guilt, they admit it and ask for forgiveness from the god, whichever one it may be.” He broke off with a self-conscious laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with my far-fetched theories.”

“I assure you, dear boy, you did not bore me. It sounds as if you have hit upon a most interesting and productive line of inquiry.” I put my hand over his. “I intend to see that you are allowed to pursue it.”

Ramses eyed me askance. “What are you up to now, Mother?”

“Your father will be back tomorrow morning. We will discuss it then. Run along and enjoy your translating.”