The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [144]
Sir Edward had not returned the previous night until after we had retired, and he had been late coming in to breakfast. He had seemed tired and preoccupied, and I confess I had wondered whether it was the photographer from Cairo, or someone more entertaining, who had kept him up so late. When Emerson and I came out of number Five, we found him conversing with Nefret.
“If you don’t want me for anything just now, Professor, I am going along to see what Mr. Ayrton is doing,” she said.
Emerson tried to look as if the idea had not occurred to him until that moment. He did not succeed. “Hmmm, yes, why not? We may be able to help him.”
“I was just about to ask you about that, sir,” said Sir Edward. “You know I had dinner last night with Mr. Paul—”
“No, I did not know,” said Emerson.
“Oh? I thought perhaps Mrs. Emerson had mentioned it.”
“No, she did not,” said Emerson.
“Oh. Well, sir, he suggested I might give him a hand today. The photographs he took yesterday did not turn out as well as he had hoped—”
“You helped him develop them?” I inquired, regretting my suspicions of the young man. Developing plates takes a long time and requires careful attention.
“Not to say help, no. He is a skilled photographer. However, as he pointed out, working in a confined space filled with fragile objects is easier with an assistant—to hold the equipment, you know, and manipulate the lights.”
“Two assistants would be even better,” said Nefret eagerly.
“That might be pushing Mr. Ayrton too far,” Sir Edward said, smiling at her.
“Yes, the fewer people stamping around in the burial chamber the better,” Emerson agreed.
“Then you don’t object, Professor?” Sir Edward asked.
“You don’t require my permission, you are not on my staff,” said Emerson. “Go ahead, by all means. I will just go with you and make certain it’s all right with Ayrton.”
“What sort of person is this Mr. Paul?” I asked, as we started along the path.
Sir Edward laughed. “He’s an odd little old chap. Absolutely dedicated to his work. I couldn’t get him to talk of anything but photography.”
Ned was alone—that is to say, Davis and his entourage were not there. He greeted us with obvious pleasure. “I thought you had lost interest, Professor, since you haven’t been here for several days. Is Ramses not with you?”
Emerson explained that we had been entertaining guests, and that Ramses and David were now at work in number Five. When Sir Edward mentioned his intention of assisting Mr. Paul, Ned nodded. “Yes, he told me you would be joining him. It’s up to him, of course; I don’t know much about photography. Go ahead, Sir Edward. I needn’t caution you to take care.”
“He’s already here, then?” I asked.
“Yes, he arrived at the crack of dawn. Very dedicated man.”
Sir Edward descended the steps and disappeared into the tomb. “Mr. Davis decided not to come today,” Ned explained. “There’s not much we can do until Mr. Paul finishes the photography.”
“Quite right,” said Emerson. “We may as well get back to work. Care to come and have a look, Ayrton?”
Ned said he would like that. We had quite a nice, restful morning—all of us, that is, except for Ramses and David. When I called them out for mid-morning tea they were rather sticky and Ramses remarked that it was time they stopped anyhow, since it was hard to keep perspiration from dripping onto the paper. He and Ned got into an animated discussion of his photographic copying method.
“David agrees with Mr. Carter, though,” Ramses explained. “That freehand copying is the best method of capturing the spirit of the original.”
“That depends on the spirit of the copyist,” Ned said somewhat cynically. “David’s work is first-rate. I tried to persuade . . . Well, never mind.”
When Emerson called a halt to the day’s work, I went down the path to see whether Sir Edward intended returning with us. I realized that Ned must have left for the day, since the only persons present were a few of the guards. There were lights inside the tomb, however. I was tempted to go in, but my