Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [162]
Cyrus let out a choked gurgle and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Amelia. I—uh—I thought I was used to your shenanigans, but you knocked the breath clean out of me with that one. Why are you folks sheltering your worst enemy? Or are you holding him prisoner? Why? Holy Jehoshaphat, I thought the fellow was dead.”
“Ramses will explain,” I said.
Ramses started violently and so forgot himself as to scowl at me. It seemed to me only fair that since he and Nefret had initiated the deception, they should render the necessary explanations, but I gave him a brief breathing space by remarking, “Cyrus, I believe that instead of brandy I would like a whiskey and soda, if you would be so good.”
Ramses then launched into his narrative, to which I listened with as much interest as Cyrus, since I was curious to know how Ramses was going to avoid certain matters which could not be divulged even to Cyrus: namely and to wit, Sethos’s relationship to Emerson, which was a private family matter, and the former’s career as a secret agent, which was a private government matter.
I must say that after a somewhat faltering start Ramses did credit to my training. His mention of a “lost tomb” fascinated Cyrus to such an extent that his critical faculties were dulled, and our friend readily accepted Ramses’s explanation that he had come to Sethos’s aid because he was, in a sense, the lesser of two evils.
“His rival is completely ruthless—a killer,” Ramses said. “And I am sure I need not remind you of the numerous occasions upon which Sethos risked his life to protect the lady he loves devotedly . . .”
He proceeded to remind them of those occasions, at unnecessary length, and in a prose style that was reminiscent of Miss Minton’s more romantic passages. Ah well, I thought, as Emerson chewed fiercely on the stem of his pipe and my son pretended to look apologetic, I suppose I had it coming. I did not doubt that Ramses enjoyed getting back at me for “putting him on the spot.” Our relationship was developing in quite an interesting fashion.
Ramses was able to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about Miss Minton’s involvement, which explained to everyone’s satisfaction how Sethos had ended up at the Amelia. He ended with an apology for involving Cyrus, which the latter, now bright-eyed as an adventurous boy, brushed aside.
“I understand. Had to keep those thugs away from the Amelia and your lady. Getting him off the boat was a good idea too, but you’d better make sure the word spreads that you no longer have a guest. How about if I tell the world that poor old Emmeline’s decided she wants nothing more to do with this unsanitary sickly country? Packed her traps and gone off in a huff. I could take you to the train tomorrow, Amelia, bid you a brotherly farewell, you can get off at Hammadi and catch the next train back . . . What’s so funny, Nefret?”
“You,” Nefret sputtered. “We ought to have taken you into our confidence from the start. You’re almost as good at invention as Mother.”
“Quite,” said Ramses, giving Cyrus a look of alarm. “It won’t wash, Cyrus. We can’t prove Emmeline was ever here at the Castle, because she wasn’t. All we can do is add another lie to the rest and say she’s gone—and the sooner the better. I’ll tell Nasir and Ashraf tomorrow, and if they wonder how the bloody hell—excuse me—how we got ‘her’ away unseen, they can speculate to their hearts’ content.”
Cyrus was obviously disappointed. “Well, if you say so. Now how are we going to go about finding that gol-durned royal tomb?”
A thump and a click brought us all to our feet. It sounded as if someone had slammed a door which had been slightly ajar; yet I had made certain both doors to the sitting room were tightly closed before I began to speak. Emerson dashed toward one door and Ramses, whose hearing was slightly more acute, for the other. He flung the panel wide; and there, blinking and emitting little bleats of alarm, was William Amherst.
• • •
Fifteen
• • •
William stuttered out a