The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [101]
“Nothing of interest,” said Ramses, accepting a glass of tea. “Ned sent off a message to Mr. Davis yesterday informing him he had found a tomb, but—”
“What?” Emerson exclaimed. “Not that niche with the storage jars? That is obviously—”
“Yes, sir,” said Ramses. “Some feet below that niche was a surface that had been squared off and smoothed, suggesting that a tomb might have been begun. That was why I remained, to see what came of it, but there was no entrance. Ned has just dispatched another messenger to tell Mr. Davis it had been a false alarm.”
“What’s he done with the jars?” Emerson asked greedily.
“Sent them to his house, I believe. Mr. Davis,” said Ramses without expression, “will want to investigate them himself.”
“Curse it,” said Emerson.
The day passed without further discoveries by Ayrton or ourselves; there were reliefs on the walls of the first chamber, but not until later in the day, after the dust raised by the feet of the men had settled, were we able to examine them by candlelight. Though damaged, enough remained to arouse the interest of my hypercritical son.
“The scenes are reminiscent of those in the princes’ tombs S. Schiaparelli found in the Valley of the Queens,” he remarked. “We ought to get at them as soon as possible, Father, the plaster is loose and the least vibration—”
“Confound it, Ramses, I am only too well aware of that,” Emerson replied. “It will have to wait until we have got the place cleared out a bit more. We will need better light. Reflectors might do it, but if I can run an electric wire . . .”
He stopped speaking, his face glum. He was remembering the happy days when Howard Carter held the post of Inspector. Emerson’s slightest wish had been Howard’s command, and Mr. Quibell, his successor, had been almost as obliging. It remained to be seen whether Mr. Weigall would agree to Emerson’s request for a wire to be run from the electric engine in the tomb of Ramses XI. I was not particularly sanguine about it.
We returned to the house and dispersed in various directions—the children to the stable with the horses, Emerson to his desk in the sitting room. Sir Edward’s luggage had been brought over from the hotel, so I showed him to his room and left him to unpack. After refreshing myself and changing my dusty clothes I told Fatima to serve tea and settled down on the verandah to read the messages that had been delivered.
There was only one of particular interest. After the others had joined me, I handed it to Emerson, to whom it had been addressed. With a sour look at me, he tossed it onto the table.
“I see you have already read it, Peabody. Why don’t you just tell us what it says?”
“Certainly, my dear. It is a telegram from the Cairo police. They met the train, as we requested, but found no woman answering to Layla’s description.”
During the course of the day I had told Sir Edward about the steps we had taken, so he understood the reference. He shook his head doubtfully.
“She could easily have eluded them. You know what utter confusion reigns at the station—masses of people shoving and shouting, all trying to get on and off the train at the same time.”
I had requested Nefret to pour. She looked very dainty and ladylike in her white muslin frock, though the bulk of Horus filling her lap and overflowing onto the settee rather spoiled the picture. The cat raised his head and growled at Ramses when he approached the table to take the cup Nefret had filled for him; being accustomed to Horus’s little ways, he managed to get hold of it without being clawed. Retreating to the ledge, he said, “It is possible she never took the train, or intended to do so. She could have purchased the ticket as a blind, to mislead the others.”
“That possibility occurred to me, of course,” I said.
“Of course,” Ramses echoed. He fished something out of his cup. “Nefret, could you keep that cat from dipping his tail in the tea?”
Sir Edward laughed and removed another hair from his upper lip. “They do shed in warm weather, don’t they? That