Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [92]
I leaned back and raised my glass in salute. “So that is settled. Drink your whiskey, Katherine. I know you seldom touch spirits, but it will do you good. Cheers!”
With unusual tact, Emerson waited until we had retired to dress for dinner before he expressed his opinion. “ ’Pon my word, Amelia, that was extraordinarily high-handed, even for you.”
“They agreed, didn’t they?” I removed my frock and hung it up. “Katherine appeared to be in a much more cheerful frame of mind.”
“Both of them would walk off the edge of a cliff if you proposed it,” Emerson muttered. “Do you want to bathe first, or shall I?”
“I haven’t time for a bath.” I poured water into the washbasin and began my ablutions. “I will just freshen up a bit and then see if Bertie is fit enough to dress and come down for dinner. It would be good for him, in my—”
The breath went out of me as Emerson wrapped his arms round my waist and squeezed. “Your opinion! By Gad, Peabody, if you ever failed to give your opinion on any subject whatever, I would have you put in hospital.”
After a few brief exchanges of affection—for, as I reminded him, we must not keep our guests waiting—we resumed the activities Emerson’s impetuous embrace had interrupted, and I responded to his remark.
“My reasons for suggesting they go on to Luxor are unarguable, Emerson, but there is an additional reason I could not mention to them. We cannot proceed with our investigation of Asad’s death while they are with us. Cyrus would insist on taking a hand, and that might be dangerous.”
“He is already suspicious. He took me aside before we came up and asked how often we had been attacked since we arrived.”
“He was just making a little joke, Emerson. He cannot know about the body in the mastaba, and if we get them away within the next few days, there is little chance of his finding out. I warned Daoud and Fatima and Selim not to speak of it, and told Gargery I would send him back to England on the first boat if he said a word.”
“You seem to have thought of everything.”
“I believe I have. The only remaining problem is to find a new interest for Bertie.”
“You haven’t solved that little difficulty yet? Good Gad, Peabody, what is wrong with you?”
I turned. Emerson had removed boots, stockings, and shirt. Meeting his speculative eye, I said, “I have an idea or two. Do hurry, Emerson.”
“We ought to leave the bath chamber free for our guests,” said Emerson, grinning. “Will you share the washbasin, my dear?”
After I had dressed I hurried to Bertie’s room, leaving Emerson looking for a clean shirt in every drawer but the one in which they were always kept. The door was ajar; as I approached I heard a small clear voice.
“So the brave princess filled a saucer with beer and waited, while the prince slept; and soon the snake crept out from under the bed and started to bite the prince, but when it saw the beer it drank it and was drunk, and then the brave princess took her knife and cut its head off.”
“That was brave of her,” said Bertie.
I opened the door and went in. Sennia had dragged an armchair close to the bed and was sitting on the very edge of the seat so as not to crush her ruffles. She was wearing her best frock, of embroidered white dimity with a pink satin sash and matching pink hairbow. Horus was stretched out across the foot of the bed, forcing Bertie to pull his knees up, but he appeared fairly benevolent—for Horus. “I am telling him a story,” Sennia explained.
I tried to look severe—for I had not given Sennia permission to join us that evening, or to visit the invalid—but when I saw the smile on Bertie’s face I decided to let the little minx off the scolding she deserved. She knew she had won; giving me a smug grin, she added, “I washed his face too.”
Her son’s laughter was the first sound Katherine heard when she came along the hall. As she told me later, she had not heard him