Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [107]
And he would say no more, question him as I might.
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Eleven
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Emerson was more forthcoming when I asked precisely what he intended to do in Cairo. “For it is all very well,” I added, “to talk vaguely of getting on the trail of Sethos, but without any notion of where to start, it will be difficult to find a trail, much less follow it.”
My tone was somewhat acerbic, for Emerson’s refusal to confide in me had wounded me deeply. He appeared not to notice my annoyance, but replied amicably, “I am glad you raised that question, Peabody. I have two approaches in mind. First, we must inquire of official sources what they know of this villain. We have a legitimate reason to demand information, since we have cause to suppose ourselves threatened by him.
“I have greater hopes, however, of my second approach—to wit, my acquaintances in the underworld of Cairene crime. I would not be surprised to discover that even Sethos’ chief lieutenants are unaware of his true identity; however, by putting together bits and scraps and odds and ends, we may be able to construct a clue.”
“Good, Emerson. Precisely the approach I was about to suggest.”
“Humph,” said Emerson. “Have you any other suggestions, Peabody?”
“I could hardly improve on your ideas, Emerson. However, it has occurred to me to start from the other end, so to speak.”
“I don’t follow you, Peabody.”
“I mean that instead of gathering more information, we should pursue the few facts we already have. I am convinced it was Sethos himself who brought the communion vessels to our room. And we know that he or one of his hired assassins was in the hotel on the night of Kalenischeff’s murder. I propose to question and, if necessary, bribe or threaten, the servants who were on duty upon those occasions.”
“Of course you know the police have questioned them already.”
“Oh yes, but they won’t have told the police anything. There is a reluctance among people of that class in all countries to cooperate with the police.”
“True. Anything else?”
“Yes, one other thing. Has it occurred to you that if Ronald Fraser is not Sethos himself, he may be involved with the gang?”
“Oddly enough, that had occurred to me,” Emerson replied, fingering the dimple in his chin. “Or, if not Ronald, then Donald. Curse these people,” he added, “why can’t they have distinctive names? I keep mixing them up.”
“I am sure we can eliminate Donald, Emerson. He was with me this morning, and it was a miracle he was not killed.”
“What better alibi could there be?” Emerson demanded. “If he is Sethos, he could instruct a confederate to fire at him and miss—as indeed he did.”
“He couldn’t know I would awaken and follow him, Emerson.”
“That isn’t why you want to eliminate him, Peabody,” Emerson grumbled. “You have a pernicious weakness for young lovers.”
“Nonsense, Emerson. I eliminate Donald on purely logical grounds. We both heard Ronald Fraser ask his brother to meet him; as Donald explained to me, the reference was to a place where they had been accustomed to meet as children. How did Ronald learn the whereabouts of his brother, and of Enid, unless he is in touch with that mysterious personage who knows all and sees all? And how did Sethos know Donald would be by the river at dawn unless Ronald told him?”
“Curse it, Peabody, you have a positive genius for overlooking the obvious! It is because you are obsessed with this villain. You see him everywhere and credit him with well-nigh supernatural powers!”
“Really, Emerson—”
“The simplest and most obvious explanation,” Emerson continued angrily, “is that Ronald tried to kill his brother. An act of purely private villainy, Peabody, with not a Master Criminal in sight! Why Ronald should hate Donald I do not know, but there are several possibilities—an inheritance, or rivalry for the hand of the young lady, for instance. People do kill people for the most ridiculous reasons.”
“In either case,” I replied with equal heat, “it behooves us to learn