Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [179]
“Your official job is a side issue now. The interesting attentions we have recently received are directly related to the matter of the missing tomb. What do you know that we do not?”
He had recovered his composure. He rubbed his bristly chin and gave me a cynical smile. “You do go straight to the point, Amelia dear. I am ignorant of the answers to the two most important questions: the location of the tomb, and the identity of my rival.”
There was a knock at the door. “Curse it, I didn’t suppose she would be so quick,” I said. “We must have a council of war. There isn’t time for it now. Give me your word—”
The rapping became louder and more peremptory. Sethos leaped to his feet. “That isn’t Nefret. Amelia, don’t open the door.”
He was too slow to stop me. Ramses had taught me a rather nice little trick of letting an adversary start into the room and then slamming the door hard against his face. I was anxious to try it, and hopeful of capturing one of our foes. Unfortunately, the person in the hall was not a foe. It was Margaret Minton.
“Confound it!” I said.
“Hell and damnation!” said Sethos.
I seized Margaret’s sleeve and pulled her into the room. “How did you find us?”
“I hired a boat and then located the driver who brought you here. Didn’t you realize you were leaving a trail anyone could follow? And you—” She turned furious eyes on Sethos. “Rudolf Rassendyll!”
“I will not tolerate criticism from you, Miss Minton,” I said coldly.
“Forgive me. Accept my abject apologies.” She stamped her foot. “I always say the wrong thing, and I’m sorry, I truly am, but it doesn’t matter; we’ve got to get him away from here as soon as possible.”
“I was about to make those arrangements when you—”
Another knock at the door. We were all a trifle tense; I started, Miss Minton let out a little scream, and Sethos swore.
“Nefret?” I called.
The answer was in the affirmative. Nefret, the waiter, and the tray crowded into the room. After some complex maneuvering we got the tray on the table, the waiter out, and the door locked.
Perched on the side of the bed, arms folded, Sethos said, “This is becoming positively farcical. Are we expecting any other guests?”
The question was addressed to the company in general, not to Miss Minton. He had not spoken to her or looked directly at her. “Eat your breakfast,” I said thoughtfully.
“Lunch,” said my brother-in-law, inspecting his plate. The vegetables had been stewed into gray ambiguity and the chunks of meat were burned. “I may as well. I won’t be allowed to say anything.”
“Please, Amelia.” Margaret clasped her hands and looked at me imploringly. “Don’t be angry. I only want—”
“What the devil is she doing here?” Nefret demanded.
“He must leave now,” Margaret insisted.
I had arrived at the same conclusion. The advantage of darkness, which had affected my first plan, was now outweighed by several disadvantages. Luxor would soon be gossiping about the procession of well-dressed females who had come calling on the amazing Mr. Rassendyll. Anyhow, it had been naive of me to assume Sethos would go where I told him to go and stay where I ordered him to stay. He was eating the horrible mess with more appreciation than it deserved. The placidity of his countenance aroused the direst of suspicions.
“You are correct,” I said.
Sethos choked. His countenance was no longer placid.
The enthusiastic cooperation of two other sensible persons (i.e., women) made the arrangements much easier. In fact, I doubt I could have managed them by myself. Nefret was the first to leave. We gave her ten minutes’ start and then proceeded to the next stage of the plan. I left Miss Minton to stand guard outside the door while I hurried down and went round the hotel to wait under the window. Sethos had not objected. He appeared to be somewhat stupefied.
The back of the hotel bordered on an empty space occupied only by weeds and mangy dogs. An obscenely fat rat sauntered