Evelyn said she was too tired to go down to the boat that day, so we took a carriage back to the hotel. She was pensive and silent during the drive; as we neared Cairo, I said slyly,
"Mr. Emerson's young brother does not have the family temper, I believe. Did you happen to hear his name?"
"Walter," said Evelyn, and blushed betrayingly.
"Ah." I pretended not to notice the blush. "I found him very pleasant. Perhaps we will meet them again at the hotel."
"Oh, no, they do not stay at Shepheard's. Walt-Mr. Walter Emerson explained to me that their money all goes for excavation. His brother is not supported by any institution or museum; he has only a small yearly income and, as Walter says, if he had the wealth of the Indies he would consider it insufficient for his purposes."
"You seem to have covered quite a lot of ground in a very short time," I said, watching Evelyn out of the corner of my eye. "It is a pity we can't continue the acquaintance with the younger Mr. Emerson, and avoid his insane brother."
"I daresay we shall not meet again," Evelyn said softly.
I had my own opinion on that score.
In the afternoon, after a rest, we went to shop for medical supplies. The guidebooks advise travelers to carry a considerable quantity of medicines and drugs, since there are no doctors south of Cairo. I had copied the list of suggested remedies from my guide, and was determined to do the thing properly. If I had not been a woman, I might have studied medicine; I have a natural aptitude for the subject, possessing steady hands and far less squeamishness about blood and wounds than many males of my acquaintance. I planned to buy a few small surgical knives also; I fancied I could amputate a limb- or at least a toe or finger- rather neatly if called upon to do so.
Our dragoman, Michael, accompanied us. I thought he seemed quieter than usual, but I was occupied with my list: blue pills, calomel, rhubarb, Dover's powder, James's powder, carbolic acid, laudanum, quinine, sulfuric acid, ipecacuanha… It was Evelyn who asked Michael what the trouble was. He hesitated, looking at us in turn.
"It is my child, who is ill," he said finally. "She is only a girl-child, of course."
The faltering of his voice and his troubled countenance betrayed a paternal emotion that contradicted the words, so I modified what had begun as an indignant comment into an offer of assistance. Michael protested, but it was clear that he would welcome our help. He led us to his home.
It was a narrow old house with the intricately carved wooden balconies that are typical of Old Cairo. It seemed to me appallingly dirty, but compared with the squalor and filth we had seen elsewhere, it could have been worse. The sickroom where the child lay was dreadful. The wooden shutters were closely barred, lest evil spirits enter to harm the child further, and the stench was frightful. I could scarcely see the small sufferer, for the only illumination came from a clay lamp filled with smoking fat, with a wick of twisted cloth. My first move, therefore, was to go to the windows and throw them open.
A wavering shriek of protest arose from the women huddled on the floor. There were six of them, clad in dusty black and doing nothing that I could see except add to the contamination of the air and keep the child awake by their endless wailing. I evicted them. The child's mother I allowed to remain. She was a rather pretty little thing, with great black eyes, and was herself, I suspected, not more than fifteen years of age.
Careless of her dainty gingham skirts, Evelyn was already seated on the floor by the pallet where the child lay. Gently she brushed the tangled black curls from its face and dislodged a cluster of flies swarming around its eyes. The mother made a gesture of protest, but subsided after a frightened glance at me. Evelyn and I had already had cause to be horrified at the way these people allow insects to infest the eyes of the children; I had seen pitiful infants so beset by flies that they looked as if they were wearing black goggles. If they attempted to brush the stinging, filthy creatures away, the mothers slapped their hands. One sees tiny children who have already lost the sight of one or both eyes through this dreadful custom; and, of course, infant mortality is extremely high. One authority claims that three children out of five the young.
I looked at Michael's agonized face, and at the flushed face of the small sufferer, and I decided this was one child that would not succumb if I could help it. How fortunate that we had just come from purchasing medical supplies!
The cause of the child's illness was not hard to discover.
She had fallen and cut herself, as children will; infection had entered the wound, which naturally had not been washed or cleaned. One small arm was puffed and swollen. When I cut into the swelling, after disinfecting the knife as best I could, the infected matter spurted out in an evil-smelling flood. I cleaned and dressed the wound, then lectured the distracted parents on the necessity of keeping it clean. Evelyn was a tower of strength. It was not until we got back to the hotel that she was quietly and thoroughly sick. I dismissed Michael for the remainder of the day, telling him to go home and keep his horde of female relatives out of the child's room.
By evening Evelyn was feeling better, and I insisted that we dress and dine downstairs, instead of having a bowl of soup in our room, as she wished to do. Although she never complained, I knew she was often depressed on her own account. We had as yet heard no word of the Earl's fate, but Evelyn expected news of his death daily, and it fretted her tender heart to think of him dying alone. For my part, I felt the old reprobate was meeting the end he richly deserved.
In her soft-rose evening dress, with its wide lace cuffs and ruffled undershirt, Evelyn looked quite charming; the wistful droop of her mouth only added to her appealing appearance. I put on my crimson satin, feeling we needed something bright and cheerful, although I still felt self-conscious in the dress. We made a fine show. Several of our gentlemen acquaintances followed us into the lounge after dinner, and attempted to win a smile from Evelyn. Suddenly I saw a rosy flush spread over her face. I suspected the cause even before I followed her gaze to the doorway. There stood young Walter Emerson, looking very handsome in evening dress. He had eyes only for Evelyn, and crossed the room so quickly that he nearly stumbled over a low table.
He had brought his brother with him. I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of the irascible Emerson, he wore a look of such gloom. His evening clothes looked as if they had been pulled out of a traveling bag and put on without the benefit of pressing; his collar seemed to be too tight. He had lost all his swagger and shambled along behind Walter like a great black bear, darting suspicious glances at the elegantly garbed travelers around him.
After greeting me hastily, Walter turned to Evelyn and they were soon deep in conversation. The other gentlemen, being ignored, faded away; and I was left face-to-face with Emerson. He stood looking down at me with an expression of sullen dejection.
"I am to make my apologies," he growled.
"I accept them," I said, and indicated the place next to me on the sofa. "Do sit down, Mr. Emerson. I am surprised to see you here. I understood that social life was not to your taste."
"It was Walter's idea," said Emerson bluntly. He sat down, edging as far away from me as the limited confines of the sofa would allow. "I hate such things."
"What things?" I inquired, enjoying myself hugely. It was delightful to see the arrogant Emerson cowed by society.
"The hotel. The people. The- the- in short, all this." He waved a contemptuous hand at the handsome chamber and its finely dressed occupants.
"Where would you rather be?" I asked.
"Anywhere in Egypt but here. Specifically, at the site of my excavations."
"In the dust of the desert, away from all the comforts of civilization? With only ignorant Arabs for company- "