Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [171]
“You couldn’t have got to him in time, Ramses, even if you had not had more pressing matters to deal with. He must have been killed the night of the failed raid.”
“But you haven’t even looked for him,” Miss Minton exclaimed. “He may have gone off with a party of tourists.”
Ever courteous, Emerson gave her the explanation the rest of us did not need. “Sayid is always at the Winter Palace. If he had been hired by a visitor, his associates would know of it.”
“They would know of his death, surely,” Miss Minton persisted.
“His body will probably never be found,” Ramses said. “If I had arranged the business, I’d have carried him, dead or alive, to the gebel and tossed him into one of the more remote wadis. By the time he is found, if he ever is, there won’t be enough left to identify.”
I decided it was time to change the subject. I was sorry about poor Sayid, who had been annoying but harmless, but there was nothing more we could do for or about him.
“Did you find anything in Sethos’s room?” I inquired.
Emerson produced the letter and read it aloud. It was a singularly uninformative document, as we all agreed. The reference to Miss Minton was not well received by that lady, but she said only, “What about the book? Are any of the words underlined or any of the sites marked?”
“Feel free to look through it,” Ramses said, handing her the volume in question. “I doubt Sethos would do anything so trite, however.”
Cyrus’s carriage was waiting for us at the dock. When she saw it, Miss Minton hung back.
“I feel awkward imposing on Mr. and Mrs. Vandergelt.”
“Would you prefer to return to the hotel?”
My tone was somewhat sharp. Instead of snapping back at me, she lowered her eyes and murmured, “I wish you didn’t dislike me so much, Mrs. Emerson. What more can I do to win your acceptance, if not your goodwill?”
“The most sensible course would be for you to leave Luxor at once.”
“I can’t do that!”
“You can, but I didn’t suppose you would. A journalist in pursuit of a story—”
“Do me the credit to believe that is not my primary motive. I want—I want to help.”
“No, you want to find our elusive acquaintance. Didn’t your latest encounter with him destroy your romantic fantasies?”
A dark flush mantled her cheeks. “You are a merciless opponent, Mrs. Emerson. I do want to know what became of him. Is that so surprising? Whether he liked it or not—and he made it clear that he did not!—we shared a terrifying experience.” She hesitated briefly, and then burst out, “I may have been the innocent cause of his betrayal, but I was also his salvation, and by God, before I’m through with him he’s going to admit it, and thank me!”
I said no more, since the men had finished putting her luggage into the carriage, and Emerson was calling us to come along, but her outburst, whose genuineness I did not doubt, had made me think better of her. A woman who would accept meekly the rudeness to which he had subjected her was not a woman I could admire. In fact, she had a number of admirable qualities. If only she had not been a confounded journalist!
Nefret and Ramses refused Emerson’s suggestion that we leave them off at the Amelia. The carriage would have been uncomfortably crowded with five persons, but it was clear to my sympathetic imagination that they preferred to be alone. As they walked away I saw his arm go round her waist and her head come to rest against his shoulder. Miss Minton was watching them too. She sighed.
Instead of standing hospitably open as they usually did when the Vandergelts were in residence, the gates of the compound were closed and the aged gatekeeper had been replaced by a sturdy youth whom I recognized as one of Yusuf and Daoud’s kinsmen.
Cyrus and Katherine came out to greet us, and I knew at once from Cyrus’s self-conscious look and Katherine’s stiff smile