Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [61]
“I believe you are not mistaken, Emerson.”
“What do red roses mean in the language of flowers, Peabody?”
“I have no idea, Emerson. Like yourself, I am sublimely indifferent to foolish conventions.”
“I think I can guess, though,” Emerson muttered.
“Emerson, I cannot imagine why you should concern yourself about such a trivial and meaningless matter when we have so many other important issues to discuss. Several things happened today that I want to tell you about. I met a gentleman—a very interesting and attractive individual—”
Emerson rolled over and seized me in a fierce embrace. “Don’t talk to me about interesting gentlemen, Peabody. Don’t talk at all!”
And he proceeded to make it difficult, if not impossible, for me to do so, even if I had been so inclined, which at that particular moment I was not.
•
Seven
•
When we returned to the house next day, we found another group of would-be workers patiently waiting outside the gates. Ramses advanced purposefully on Enid, and she fled into her room. Nemo was nowhere to be seen; but I had observed the flutter of a ragged robe in the doorway of the donkey shed, so I went after him.
Since part of the roof was missing, I had no trouble noticing that Nemo had obeyed only part of my orders. He was clean-shaven, and smelled of Pears soap; his hair had been combed and flattened down with water, though drying strands curled around his neck and brow. I reminded myself I must not forget to give him a haircut.
I asked why he had not put on his new suit. Instead of answering he countered with another question. “Is there any reason why I should not wear native costume, Mrs. Emerson? I am used to it now, and it is much more comfortable.”
“You can wear anything you like, so long as it is clean. I do not tolerate slovenliness on my expeditions. Is that your only robe? Well, then, we will wash it this evening, and while it dries I will cut your hair.”
Mr. Nemo made a face, like a little boy about to be given medicine, but he had learned the futility of arguing with me. “I wonder if I might ask you for a pair of blue spectacles, Mrs. Emerson. The blazing sun is hard on my eyes.”
“Don’t try to deceive me, Mr. Nemo. I know why you want the spectacles—you will find a pair in the third box on the second shelf in the sitting room. You are ashamed of having the young lady see you. Childish, Mr. Nemo. Very childish. You will have to face her sooner or later.”
“Not if I can help it,” Nemo muttered. “Mrs. Emerson, all this fuss about washing and cutting hair is a waste of time. Shouldn’t we be bending all our efforts to finding the criminal you mentioned? Surely we would have a better chance of spotting him in Cairo. I could return to my old haunts, and—”
“No, no, Mr. Nemo. You have not the faintest idea of how to proceed. Leave that to me, and follow my orders implicitly. Was there any disturbance last night?”
“No, all was quiet. But that news seems to disappoint you, Mrs. Emerson. Were you hoping for another attack on your son?”
“I am disappointed; I was hoping for an attack—though not necessarily on Ramses. Do you not see, Mr. Nemo, that we have not a hope of finding the man we want among the teeming thousands of Cairo? The fellow is a master of disguise; he might be anyone. Our best hope is to wait for him to come to us.”
“You mean we must sit and wait—indefinitely?”
“Not indefinitely. Not long, in fact. Sooner or later he will visit us; he has made his interest plain; and I have a few ideas as to how to attract his attention. No, do not ask me what they are; just leave it to me. Now I must be going. Remember—watch Ramses!”
“With all respect, Mrs. Emerson, I cannot imagine why you talk about the boy as if he were some sort of monster. He seems a decent little chap—frightfully long-winded—I don’t believe I have ever heard anyone use so many confounded polysyllabic words. Aside from that, he appears normal enough. Is there something you haven’t told me? Does he suffer from—forgive me—fits of hereditary madness?”
“I