Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [99]
“To say the least,” Nefret replied wryly. “But is it really unexpected, Mother?”
“You expected something of the sort? My dear, I wish you would confide more freely in me. I am a firm believer in premonitions. They are the workings of the unconscious mind, which fits together clues—”
“Yes, Mother, I agree. In this case, though, it was my conscious mind at work. Ramses’s escape from the woman in Cairo must have disappointed her, considering the effort she made to get her hands on him. Isn’t it logical that she would try again?”
“If that was another attempt at abduction it was very poorly organized,” I said critically. “She’d have needed a dozen sturdy henchmen to deal with all four of you. Not to mention that hysterical boy and his entourage.”
Nefret’s lips parted in a reluctant smile. “It was ludicrous, really—pure melodrama, without a competent stage director. Everyone was rushing around, getting in one another’s way, tripping over things and shouting. François and his lot—there were three of them, crewmen from the dahabeeyah—tumbled over the wall and joined in the confusion.” Her smile faded. “I was too worried about Justin to enjoy the farce, however. When I saw him stretched out across that slab, white-faced and rigid, his eyes wide open, staring up at the moon, I thought he was dead.”
“But he wasn’t.”
“He was alive and fully conscious,” Nefret said somewhat sourly. “François wouldn’t let me examine him. I didn’t insist, since the little wretch was as happy as a schoolboy on holiday, laughing exultantly and crowing about how the goddess had smiled and held out her hands to bless him.”
“Did she?”
“Damned if I know. I lost my head,” Nefret admitted. “I took my bow because . . . Well, because I felt someone ought to be armed with something, just in case. You know how Ramses feels about guns.”
“A firearm would have been excessive.”
“One couldn’t have shot the woman in cold blood,” Nefret conceded. “I’m better with a bow than with a gun anyhow, and I aimed at her feet, or rather, at the ground in front of where I thought her feet must be. Ramses snatched the bow from me—he had to detach Maryam first, she was hanging on to him and screaming. By the time we reached the temple entrance she was gone. Ramses and David searched, but she had plenty of time to get away if she knew the plan of the place, which she obviously does.”
I filed this fact away for future consideration. By itself it meant nothing—or rather, it might mean a number of different things. Once all the facts were put together, a picture might emerge. I would have to find the time to make one of my little charts, which had proved useful in earlier investigations.
“I expect we had better get out to the dig,” I said. “Emerson’s initial reaction to any annoyance is to blame me, but once he cools off he is the most reasonable of men. Don’t worry, my dear, I will get everyone back on track tomorrow, and Ramses will have the chance to work on his texts.”
“You think of everything, Mother.”
“I have let one or two matters slip of late,” I admitted handsomely. “For one thing, I am concerned about Sethos. I hope he is well enough to travel soon; I want to get Maryam away from that unpredictable boy and his grandmother, but I would rather not beard Mrs. Fitzroyce in her lair until Sethos is here. She was most uncooperative when I asked if Maryam could visit us.”
“Perhaps you can catch the old lady in one of her senile moods,” Nefret suggested.
“That would be convenient. Then there is M. Lacau to be dealt with,” I continued, as we strolled slowly along the path. “The missing jewelry is now a dead issue, in my opinion. It, and the thief, are probably out of the country and there is no possibility of recovering it. I will break the news to Lacau myself, when he condescends to turn up, but I see no advantage in inviting him to do so.”
Nefret nodded agreement. Her brow was still furrowed, however, so I endeavored to make her look on the bright side. “That leaves only the matter of Maryam to be settled, and we can do nothing until her