Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [110]
He chortled like a mischievous child. He wasn’t much more than nineteen or twenty, with a fresh complexion and merry brown eyes under brows as sun-bleached as his hair.
“I do hope you won’t get in trouble for this,” I said.
“Couldn’t refuse good old Badger, ma’am. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
The slower members of the party had caught us up. Lia was carrying the Great Cat of Re, and I could hear Horus spitting and swearing in his basket. Walter stared. “Badger?” he echoed.
I gave him a little poke, and the boy went on blithely, “I’ll need petrol. Can you help me there?”
He addressed Emerson, who could never be taken for anything but the leader of any group of which he made part. However, Emerson was glowering at his brother, who leaned pathetically on his arm, so Ramses took it upon himself to reply.
“Yes, of course. It will be dark before long, though. Wouldn’t you prefer to wait until morning?”
“Piece of cake” was the breezy reply. “Just follow the river. Can’t miss Cairo. Sooner the better, though, so if you don’t mind . . .”
“Quite,” said Ramses. “Selim will . . . Selim?”
Selim was gaping at the aeroplane in open adoration. He had seen them, not only here but in Palestine, during our little hegira to Gaza, but I believe this was the first time he had ever seen one on the ground—not a distant flying thing but an actual machine, with an actual engine. “Yes,” he said, starting. “What did you say, Ramses?”
Sethos let out a faint groan. “I had better get—er—good old Badger back to the house,” I said, giving him a hard look. “Will you excuse us, Lieutenant? The men will stay—of course—to help you. I hope you will come for a proper visit one day.”
“Delighted, ma’am.”
“Frightfully good of you, old chap,” said Sethos, overdoing the accent a bit.
“I will be along shortly,” said Emerson. He heaved his brother unceremoniously onto Selim’s stallion and went back to staring at the aeroplane with the same expression of vacant adoration as Selim’s. A sense of deep foreboding ran through my limbs.
When we reached the house I sent Sethos to our room to freshen up and asked Fatima to make tea. A few tactful hints dispersed most of the others, though Evelyn had to drag Walter away and I knew Gargery would probably listen at the door.
Sethos was back almost at once. His face and hands were cleaner, but the uniform, that of a major in the Egyptian Army, was a mass of wrinkles. Passing his hand over his bristly chin, he said, “I know I look like the devil, Amelia, but don’t lecture me. I haven’t been able to shave for a week. I brought a change of clothing with me, but not much else; cargo space in those machines is limited.”
“What happened to your face?” I asked.
Sethos settled himself in the most comfortable chair. “I encountered several fellows who considered I had no right to be where I was.”
“Doing what?”
“Never mind.” He leaned forward, hands clasped. “Where is she?”
“Employed as companion to an elderly lady and her mentally disturbed grandson. They are staying on their dahabeeyah in Luxor.”
His expression did not alter. “That doesn’t sound like her. What became of the rich husband?”
“Imprudent investments stripped him of his fortune. He died leaving her penniless.”
“You are uncharacteristically terse, my dear. What are you keeping from me?”
Gargery came out with a tray, which he placed on the table. I had to speak to him sharply before he sulked away.
“I think it best if you hear the details from Maryam herself,” I said, pouring a cup of tea. “But not here.”
He drank thirstily and I refilled his cup. “I suppose you have it all worked out,” he said.
“Certainly. It would not be advisable for you to go to her. There is no need for her employer to meet you or learn of your relationship at present. I will go across to Luxor and fetch her back.”
“Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
“Don’t tell me you are getting cold feet? The sooner the better, in my opinion. We are somewhat crowded here, and you will want privacy, so you had better stay