Crocodile on the Sandbank - Elizabeth Peters [104]
“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 congé, 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