Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [163]
Cyrus was loath to admit that his former protégé could be guilty of wrongdoing. “He sure has changed, though. Used to be a swell young fellow who would look you straight in the eye. He’s a different man.”
“Hmmm,” I said.
“No!” Emerson’s shout rattled the crystal. “No, Amelia. We already have two experts in disguise in this—er—group. I refuse to admit even the slightest possibility of a third!”
We did not linger long after that. I persuaded Cyrus that since Sethos’s murderous rival was (presumably) the only one who knew the location of the (hypothetical) tomb, our first priority should be identifying him—which would have the additional advantage of preventing further violence. I also felt obliged to scold Cyrus a little, for his own good.
“There is absolutely no reason to suppose that the tomb is that of a royal personage, Cyrus. I know that it has been your greatest ambition to find such a tomb, but the greater your expectations, the greater will be your disappointment should those expectations fail to materialize. Let imagination flourish freely, my friend, but do not pin your hopes—”
“You have made your point, Amelia,” said Emerson. “I hope that you will take it to heart.”
I rose before my spouse, as I usually do, filled with ambition and energy. I had believed, before we arrived in Luxor, that life had become somewhat complicated. Little had I known! Stimulated though I was by the tasks that awaited me, I admitted the necessity of organizing them in order of priority and feasibility. I therefore slipped out of bed without wakening Emerson, assumed a dressing gown, and went into the sitting room that adjoined our bedchamber.
We had, of course, been given Cyrus’s best suite of rooms. They were even more elegant and comfortable than when I had stayed in them before. The same fine Oriental rugs covered the floors and the light of early morning filtered through the beautifully carved mashrabiya screens that covered the windows. Katherine’s thoughtful hand was visible in the new draperies, the luxurious appointments of the adjoining bath chamber, and the nice little desk in the sitting room. Nothing had been overlooked: notepaper and envelopes, writing materials and blotting paper. I settled myself into the comfortable chair and drew a sheet of paper toward me.
“Interview the other archaeological suspects,” was the first item of business. Despite Emerson’s jeers I felt certain that I had been right in believing that the man behind the mystery was an Egyptologist. I was acquainted with all of them, but never before had I had occasion to study them as possible murderers and criminals. I wanted to interview the ones who had not been present the previous evening.
Under this heading I added: Alibis. I doubted anything would come of this; it is only in fiction that detectives are able to extract verifiable statements from their suspects. Memories are faulty, and witnesses, particularly to nocturnal activities, are often lacking. Still, it was worth a try, and a “Timetable of Attacks” might be useful. I wrote this phrase under “Alibis.”
“Find the Tomb” was my second heading. Two methods of inquiry suggested themselves, aside from the obvious one of catching the villain and forcing him to confess. Yusuf and the other members of the family in Gurneh might know something. I did not suppose they would deliberately conceal information, but they might consider it unimportant. Emerson and Selim were the best persons to ask such questions. The other line of inquiry was to search for the place