Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [109]
“Shall I tell Ambrose what happened?” Barton asked.
“Why not?”
“Uh . . . No reason, I guess. Well. Thank you again.”
When Ramses returned to the saloon, Nasir was setting the table for dinner. He was less clumsy than he had been, but he had found a new excuse to linger by folding the napkins into intricate shapes. His ambition exceeded his skill; tonight’s effort was probably meant to be a flying bird, though it more resembled a decapitated duck. Ramses dismissed him with a few brusque words and went to stand by Nefret, who was curled up on the divan.
“You hurt his feelings,” she said reproachfully.
“Stop him doing that, then. It takes forever to untie the knots.”
“All right, darling, I’ll try. George is a nice boy, isn’t he? It’s a pity he had to have such an unpleasant experience.”
“He’d better get used to it if he stays in Egypt.”
“Oh, really, Ramses! One doesn’t have bodies dropped at one’s feet every day. We might ask him and Mr. Lansing and Monsieur Legrain for dinner one evening—with Miss Minton.”
“If you want to waste time on social encounters, that is up to you. I was under the impression that you meant to persuade the woman to confide in you. She’s not likely to talk freely when others are around.”
“Goodness, but you’re in a grouchy mood this evening. All right, we’ll make it a threesome. You can excuse yourself after dinner and I’ll get to work on her.”
“When?”
“The sooner the better. The Vandergelts are arriving on Sunday, and we’ll be busy with them for a few days.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“If she’s free. Why are you looming over me like that?”
“I thought you liked being loomed over.”
“Only when something interesting is likely to develop. Shall I put dinner back?”
“No, I’m hungry.”
Her smile faded, but she waited until after Nasir had served the first course before she went on the attack.
“What is it? Something you found when you searched the body?”
“There was nothing you didn’t see for yourself. No means of identification, nothing distinctive about his clothing.”
“It might have been an accident.”
“If you believe in unholy coincidences, it’s conceivable that a chunk of rock crumbled away just when I happened to be climbing, but he couldn’t have fallen unless he was standing on top of the ridge that bounds the path on the cliff side. It’s not a straight drop.”
“You think he was pushed,” Nefret said slowly.
“It’s not a straight drop,” Ramses repeated impatiently. “He was lifted and pitched over. You saw how he fell—backward, faceup. He landed on his head, but the damage shouldn’t have been that extensive. He was hit in the face before he was thrown over. There were drops of blood on the rock.”
“So there were two people up there. One who tried to kill you, the other who tried—”
“You don’t know what either of them intended,” Ramses said. “Nor do I.”
“Damn it, Ramses, stop interrupting me!” She broke off, biting her lip, as Nasir trotted in with the next course, but the argument didn’t end there. Ramses knew he wasn’t behaving well, but she’d come so close to injury that afternoon, and it had been that gawky young American who had shielded her, and Luxor wasn’t safe after all—and he hadn’t the faintest clue as to the motive or the man behind the attack.
“I tell you, it couldn’t have been—” He glanced at Nasir, who was so unnerved by their loud voices that he was juggling plates in his anxiety to get out of the room. “It couldn’t have been one of that lot.”
“Who else could it have been? You haven’t . . . You didn’t . . . ”
“No! How many times must I tell you before you believe me?”
“Then who was the second man?”
“What second man?”
“You said—”
“I was theorizing. We don’t know there