Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [84]
Another outcry silenced me, punctuated, like the monotonous tolling of a bell, by Ramses’ reiterated “But Mama.” Emerson won over the rest this time, by sheer volume.
“Rather than allow you to repeat that imbecile and hazardous experiment, Amelia, I will bind you hand and foot. Why must you take these things on yourself? Can’t you leave it to me to smoke out the villain?”
“I cannot because I am the only one who can pass for Enid. Or do you propose to assume women’s clothing and walk with her dainty, tripping steps?”
The very idea outraged Emerson so thoroughly that he was momentarily mute. It was Enid who said timidly, “But, Amelia—are you absolutely certain it was I the man wanted? Perhaps you were the intended victim all along.”
“By Gad,” Emerson exclaimed. “Out of the mouths of babes and . . . Hem. Excuse me, Miss Debenham. Precisely the point I would have made had I been permitted to speak without these constant interruptions.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “My disguise was perfect. Donald here was deceived—”
“I was not,” Ramses said quickly. “I knew it was you. Mama, there is something I must—”
“There, you see,” Emerson exclaimed triumphantly.
“The eyes of true love cannot be deceived,” Enid said. Donald glanced at her and glanced quickly away.
Emerson’s lips tightened. “That,” he said, “is what I am afraid of.”
Emerson refused to explain this enigmatic remark; nor, in fact, did any of us ask him to explain, for we had more important matters to resolve. We finally decided to wait upon events for another day or two, in the hope that something would turn up. I should say, “Emerson decided,” for I was opposed to the idea. He promised me, however, that if nothing happened in the next two days, we would go together to Cairo in an effort to obtain information.
“Let me work for a brief time without distraction,” he groaned piteously. “The stratification of the structure next to the pyramid is not clear in my mind as yet.”
I knew what Emerson was up to. He had no more intention than I did of sitting with folded hands awaiting Sethos’ next move. He was deceiving me, the sly fellow—trying to get the jump on me in another of our amiable competitions in criminology. Well, I thought, smiling to myself—two can play at that game, Professor Radcliffe Emerson! I had a few cards up my own sleeve.
“Very well,” I said pleasantly. “That will give me a chance to explore the interior of the subsidiary pyramid.”
“It will prove a wasted effort, Mama,” said Ramses. “The burial chamber is empty. Indeed, I suspect it was never used for a burial, since its dimensions are only seven feet by—”
“Ramses,” I said.
“Yes, Mama?”
“Did I not, on an earlier occasion, forbid you to go inside a pyramid without permission?”
Ramses pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Indeed you did, Mama, and I assure you I have not forgotten. I might claim that since you were present, though at some little distance, I was not violating the literal sense of the command. However, that would be disingenuous. In fact, my position was on the very edge of the entrance opening—technically neither in nor out—and I had every intention of remaining there, and would have done so, but for the fact that a careless move on my part caused me to lose my footing and slide down the passage, which, if you recall, had a slope of perhaps forty-five degrees fifteen minutes. It was my body striking the wall that disturbed the delicate equilibrium of the structure, whose stones had already been—”
“Ramses.”
“Yes, Mama. I will endeavor to be brief.