Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [40]
“It can wait,” Sethos said coolly. “But you might tell me a little more about it. Emerson’s telegram was of necessity cryptic.” He fished in his pocket and took out a crumpled piece of paper. He handed it to me and I read it aloud.
“ ‘M. gone missing with ladies’ property. Where would he take it? Advice urgently needed.’ “
“How did you get here so quickly?” I asked.
“I was in Constantinople. Margaret sent the message on, since it sounded urgent. I came as soon as I could. Now tell me the rest of it. What precisely is missing?”
“Three bracelets—the most valuable of the lot—and a magnificent pectoral.” In my usual efficient fashion I summarized the facts that were known to us. David exclaimed, “Poor Cyrus! What a blow.”
“It is as great a blow to me,” Sethos said. “I had nothing to do with it, Amelia. Do you believe me?”
“Yes. You would have taken the lot.”
Sethos threw his head back and laughed heartily. “You flatter me, my dear. I thank you for your confidence. To be honest, I am surprised at Martinelli. If he has reverted to his old habits I would have expected him to be more thorough. Unless he had found a particular buyer who wanted particular items, for reasons unknown . . . I will of course pursue inquiries here in Cairo, but don’t get your hopes up. My old organization is dispersed and its members scattered.”
“You can’t do anything until tomorrow,” Emerson said. “I—er—you—er—Amelia is tired.” I had not been the only one to observe the lines of weariness in Sethos’s face. He must have traveled day and night to respond to our plea.
“Quite,” I said. “Have you booked a room here?”
“I have quarters elsewhere.”
Emerson’s eyes narrowed. Affection had been replaced by suspicion. Sethos went on, “Before I leave you in peace, we must confide fully in one another.”
“You mean you expect us to confide fully in you,” snapped Emerson.
“I assure you, brother, I will reciprocate as soon as I have something to confide. Is there anything you haven’t told me that might have bearing on this business?”
The indeterminate color of his eyes had been very useful to a master of disguise, since they could appear gray, green, or brown with the skillful application of makeup. Sunk in shadowed sockets, they looked darker now, as they came to rest on Ramses’s bandaged hands.
“That has nothing to do with—” Ramses began.
“We cannot be certain,” I interrupted. “Sethos may see a connection that eludes us. You young people needn’t stay, if you are tired, as you must be.”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” David declared. “Have you ever had an entire season without some kind of mischief? Don’t think for a moment that you can keep me out of it.”
“Or me,” said Lia firmly.
Sethos’s hard face softened. “The family blood runs true,” he said, in a tone that made Lia’s face turn pink. “All right, Ramses, let’s have it.”
“Hell,” said Ramses, running his fingers through his hair. “Must I?”
“Allow me,” I said, for I knew Ramses would not mention the most interesting details. He was inclined to be self-conscious about his encounters with amorous females. “You can correct me if my narrative goes astray.”
I made the narrative as matter-of-fact as I could, but I had not got far along before Sethos’s mouth began to twitch. His amusement was so evident, I frowned severely at him.
“The story appeals to your notorious sense of humor?”
His smile faded into sobriety. “Good God, Amelia, you don’t suppose I had a hand in it, do you? In my bygone and exceedingly ill-spent youth I was guilty of a number of extravagances, but never anything so wild as this.”
“Hmph,” said Emerson, glaring.
“Well, there was one that came close,” Sethos conceded, with a sentimental look at me.
“Stop that,” I said sharply. Emerson had never forgotten or entirely forgiven that occasion when I had been held prisoner by my amorous (had I but known) brother-in-law, in surroundings as voluptuous as those Ramses had described.
“I beg your pardon. And yours,