Crocodile on the Sandbank - Elizabeth Peters [57]
Walter was clearly impressed with the argument, and with the additional point I had not made—his brother’s health. He looked at Emerson, who said nothing; but his chin jutted out so far that I had to repress an urgent desire to strike it.
“There are other sites in Egypt that need work,” Evelyn added. “Many of them, from what you tell me. Why not try another place until the resentment has died down here?”
“An interesting suggestion,” Emerson said. His voice was very quiet; it grated like a grinding stone. “What do you say, Abdullah?”
“Very good, very good. We go. Work at Sakkarah, Luxor. I know tombs in the Valley of the Kings,” he added, with a sly glance at Emerson. “Royal tombs, many not found yet. I find you good king’s tomb and we go to Thebes, where is my home, where I have friends who work gladly.”
“Hmm,” said Emerson. “There certainly are undiscovered tombs in the Valley of the Kings. It is a tempting suggestion, Abdullah. You seem to forget, however, that one cannot excavate in Egypt without permission from the Antiquities Department. I had a difficult enough time wringing this concession out of Maspero; he certainly will not allow me to dig in any spot where he hopes to find interesting objects. There is also a minor matter of money to be considered. Walter—what is your opinion?”
Walter had been looking at Evelyn. He started when his brother addressed him, and faint color stained his tanned cheeks.
“Why, Radcliffe, you know I will do whatever you wish. But I urge one thing most strongly. Whether you and I go or stay, the ladies must leave. Not that our situation holds any danger; but it is unpleasant, and the ladies have already given too much time to us. They must depart; today, if possible.”
A tear glimmered in my eye as I gazed at the gallant young fellow. He was a true Briton, ordering the girl he loved out of danger and remaining loyal to his billy goat of a brother. Evelyn clasped her hands and gazed at me beseechingly. She felt the same loyalty to me, and would not oppose my decision. There was no need for her appeal. I had no intention of being removed, like a bundle of laundry, to a safe spot behind the lines of battle.
“The suggestion is well meant, but I cannot accept it,” I said briskly. “Either we all go, or all of us remain.”
Emerson now turned his full attention to me. He drew a deep breath; the buttons of his shirt strained across his broad chest. They were all loose, and I reminded myself to fetch my sewing kit as soon as the argument was over.
“Ah, Miss Peabody,” he said, in a low growl. “My dear Miss Peabody. May I take the liberty of inquiring how the devil—” His voice rose to a roar; a gesture from Walter stopped him, and he continued in a moderated voice that shook with the strain of control. “How on earth did you come to be mixed up in my affairs? I am a patient man; I seldom complain. But my life was calm and peaceful until you came into it. Now you behave as if you were the leader of the expedition! I quite agree with Walter; the women must go. Now don’t argue with me, Peabody! Do you realize that I could have you bundled up and carried off to your boat? Michael and Abdullah would be delighted to do the job.”
I glanced down at Michael, who was listening in open mouthed interest.
“No, Michael would not obey you. He would prefer to see me out of here, I’m sure, but he would not disregard my wishes. Now, Emerson, don’t waste time arguing. I can see that you intend to remain here, and I must admit that I am reluctant to abandon the work—to see the British lion skulk away with its tail between its legs…”
“Oh, God,” said Emerson. He rolled his eyes until the whites showed. I felt that the remark was not intended as a prayer, but decided not to make an issue of it. I continued.
“Having decided to