Lucas hesitated for a moment, looking at Evelyn. She didn't see him; she was gazing up into Walter's face like an acolyte adoring a saint. Lucas shrugged, or perhaps he shivered; the movement rippled through his body and was gone.
"I am not so noble as that," he said, with a faint smile. "Excuse me. I think I want to be alone for a while."
"Off into the sunset," said Emerson, as Lucas's retreating form was silhouetted against the west. "How theatrical these young persons are! Thank God for our sober, middle-aged common sense, eh, Peabody?"
I watched Evelyn and Walter walk away. His arm was about her waist; her head still rested on his shoulder, and if he felt pain, where it pressed against the bullet wound, he showed no signs of it.
"Yes, indeed," I replied sourly. "Thank God for it."
11
I NEVER expected I would be concerned about Lucas, but as the hours passed and he did not return, I began to worry.
We had eaten one of the vilest dinners imaginable. It had been cooked by Abdullah; he explained that Lucas's cook and the waiter who had accompanied us to camp that morning were not to be found. I found this alarming, but Emerson, who was in an inexplicably good mood, shrugged it away.
We were all sitting on the ledge together, watching the moon rise; but Emerson and I might as well have been alone, for all the conversation we got out of the other two. They didn't hear a word anyone said to them. I was therefore forced to confide my worries about Lucas to Emerson, although I did not expect to find much concern in that quarter. In this assumption I was correct.
"He has probably gone with his men," Emerson said calmly. "I think, Peabody, that we have seen the last of his lordship."
"You mean- he has deserted us? He would not be so cowardly!"
"I fancy he might. But let me do him justice; he has not abandoned us to danger. Indeed, I think it possible that we have also seen the last of the Mummy."
"Nonsense," I said irritably. "Lucas could not have been the Mummy. We saw them together on more than one occasion."
"I may be wrong," said Emerson- in a tone that contradicted the false modesty of his words. "His suggestion- which had also occurred to me- may be the correct one: that there is an unrobbed tomb back in the hills which the villagers hope to exploit. In any case, it must be obvious even to you, Peabody, that the instigator of the plot is not an Egyptian; it contains too many features that could have been invented only by a European or an Englishman. Or perhaps an American; they have their share of unscrupulous collectors -- "
"What are you talking about?"
"Professional jealousy, Peabody. No doubt it seems incredible to you that any reasonable man would act so, but I assure you, there are colleagues in my field who would go to any extreme to exploit a sensational discovery such as a royal tomb. I have the concession at Amarna; I had a devil of a time wringing it out of Maspero, but not even he would dare take it away now. The man is quite capable of employing such tricks to make me abandon my excavation and leave the field open to him. Another feather in his cap! Not that Maspero is the only one- "
"Of all the absurd ideas!"
"What is the alternative? If not the place, it is a person who is under attack. I have no enemies- "
"Ha," I said.
"A few individuals may resent my justified criticism," Emerson said meditatively. "Yes; I daresay there are some individuals so degraded that they might respond to my well-intended suggestions with rancor-"
"If anyone murders you," I interrupted, "which seems quite likely, it will be in the heat of anger, with a club or some other convenient blunt instrument. I am only surprised it has not happened before this."
"My enemies are professional, not personal," Emerson insisted. "Walter has none, of either kind. His character is regrettably mild. Are you sure there are no discarded lovers pursuing you?"
The question did not deserve an answer. After a moment, Emerson went on, "Then it must be Miss Evelyn who inspires such agitated activity on the part of our unknown enemy. If that is the case, the events of this evening must settle the question. His lordship, having received his congee, has departed- "
The rattle of pebbles on the path below disproved his words as soon as they were spoken. I knew the step.
The moon was a spectacular silver orb, almost at the full, shedding a silvery radiance over the silent desert, the river, the cliffs. The light was not quite bright enough for me to distinguish Emerson's expression. I much regretted that.
"Lucas," I said, turning to welcome the newcomer with a warmth I had not heretofore displayed. "I am relieved you are back. I was worried about you."
"How kind of you." Lucas looked, betrayingly, into the shadows behind us, where Evelyn and Walter were sitting. Receiving no greeting from that quarter, his eyes returned to me. "I felt the need of a walk. I have walked; I have accomplished my purpose. You did not suppose I would desert you?"
"I felt sure you would not," I said. From Emerson, beside me, came no comment. "Of course not. Tomorrow I will endeavor to forget certain… personal griefs in hard work; it will be delightful to explore the cliffs for buried treasure. In the meantime, I remembered Emerson's suggestion; I have brought a bottle of wine, in which to drink to my cousin."
I could not help shooting a triumphant glance at Emerson. He sat in glum silence, his face in shadow; only his hand was visible, clenched whitely on the arm of his chair. I don't know why I should have been so pleased to see Lucas behaving like a gentleman for a change. I never liked the man… But of course I do know why. I would have defended Satan himself if he had been in disfavor with Emerson.
Lucas was as good as his word; it was as if he had determined to humble himself as thoroughly as possible. He carried a tray with glasses and a bottle; putting this down, with a flourish that struck me as rather pathetic, he began to work at the cork.
"Won't you persuade Evelyn to join us?" he asked in a low voice. "I dare not; to be candid, I am ashamed of myself for my behavior this afternoon. I am of a passionate nature; I suppose dear old Grandfather would say it was my Latin blood."
So I called Evelyn, and she came out of the deep shadow where she had been sitting, holding Walter by the hand and smiling shyly at her cousin. I found his excuses inadequate. Nothing could possibly excuse his reference to her misfortune in front of Walter. But, on the other hand, this very reference had brought about the present happy state of affairs, and I must say that Lucas made his apologies like a man and a Briton. Walter received them in the same spirit; to see the two young fellows clasp hands, there in the moonlight, was a touching sight.
Then Lucas handed us each a glass and raised his own. "To Evelyn's future!" he cried. "May it bring all that her closest kinsman could desire!"
We drank. Even Emerson took a sip. He made a face, like a nasty little boy taking medicine. He had moved his chair out near the table, and I could see him quite well; his expression of sour disapproval pleased me no end. Seeing that he was in no mood to do the proper thing, and realizing that it was a little too much to expect of Lucas, I proposed the next toast.
"To Walter! May he make Evelyn as happy as she deserves-or I will deal with him!"
"Spoken with characteristic tact," said Emerson under his breath. Walter leaned forward and put his hand on mine.
"You may deal with me as you see fit, Miss Amelia," he said warmly. "Don't think I shall ever forget that it is to your encouragement, in large measure, that I owe my present happiness. I hope you will be often with us; you may keep your eye on me that way and make sure I measure up to your expectations."