Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [81]
I find myself quite incapable of recording the rest of Ramses’ lecture. It was accompanied by a monotonous undercurrent of profanity from Donald Fraser, for which, I must say, I could hardly blame him. He performed well, particularly under those somewhat exasperating circumstances, and soon succeeded in enlarging the hole through which I had first seen the light of Ramses’ candle. As soon as it was big enough, Ramses’ face appeared in the opening, hideously shadowed by the candle he held. His thin face looked alarmingly like the mummy of his namesake, and he was still offering suggestions. “Mr. Nemo—if you will permit me to continue the use of that pseudonym until I am formally introduced to you under your proper name—I strongly request that you do not remove anything to the left—your right, it would be—of the present gap. My appraisal of the situation—”
The speech ended in a squawk as Donald, driven beyond endurance, snatched his charge by the throat and dragged him through the opening. It was a chancy thing to do, but it had no ill effect except on the nether portion of Ramses’ anatomy, which, as I later discovered, was violently scored by the rough edges of the rocks as he passed rapidly under them.
“Precede me, Ramses, if you please,” I said coldly.
“Yes, Mama. I would rather do that in any case, since I have the distinct impression, from the strength of Mr. Nemo’s grip, that he is in a state of emotional excitation that makes me prefer to have some obstacle between myself and his—”
I gave Ramses a push. He said later that I had struck him, but that is not correct. I simply pushed him in order to hasten his progress. It certainly had that effect.
Our return to the house was effected in utter silence. When we arrived it was completely dark, and Hamid the cook informed us indignantly that dinner was burned to a crisp because we had not told him we would be late.
After the required repairs to our physical and sartorial deficiencies had been effected, and a distinctly inferior meal had been consumed, we gathered in the sitting room for a council of war.
Feeling that repairs to shattered nerves were also required, I offered whiskey all round, except to Ramses, of course. He and the cat had milk and Enid chose a cup of tea. The genial beverage (I refer in this instance to the whiskey) had the desired effect, though in Emerson’s case the improvement of his spirits was due in large part to the relief of recovering his son more or less unscarred, and to the fact that I was about to admit him to my confidence. As he put it, during a brief moment of privacy, while I was removing my (or Enid’s) disheveled costume, “Much as I deplore your insane escapades, Peabody, I resent even more being excluded from them.”
Yet, as I explained once we had settled around the table in the sitting room, there was very little he did not know, now that the identities of the two young persons had been disclosed. He could not blame me for failing to inform him of Enid’s real name, since he claimed to have recognized her from the start.
Ramses, of course, also maintained he had penetrated Enid’s disguise. “The bone structure is unmistakable. A student of physiognomy is never misled by superficial changes in appearance such as are wrought by clothing, ornaments, or cosmetics. Which reminds me, Miss Debenham, that at some future time I would like to discuss with you the devices ladies employ in order to change their natural appearance—for the better, as they no doubt assume, or they would not resort to such things. The coloring of the lips and cheeks reminds me of the Amazulu people, who often paint broad stripes—”
We stifled Ramses, figuratively speaking—though Donald looked as if he would like to have done so literally. He had already informed me that he was beginning to understand my warnings concerning Ramses. “The boy doesn’t need a bodyguard, Mrs. Emerson, he needs a guardian angel—or possibly a squad of them.”
The young man was wearing his new shirt and trousers, and for the first time resembled the English gentleman