The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [147]
“Oh, good Gad,” Emerson exclaimed. “Nefret, I don’t know which offends me most, your sentimental ideas or the language in which you express them. Bertha was incapable of the emotion you mention. Her original profession was—er—the same as Layla’s, which would explain why she turned to women in the same business when she sought allies. However, the rest of your melodramatic plot makes a certain amount of sense. It would explain how the papyrus got to Cairo. She robbed Sethos before she left him.”
“There’s another thing,” Ramses said slowly. “Something Layla said. ‘Your lady mother knows. Ask her whether women cannot be as dangerous as men.’ ”
“You might have mentioned that little detail earlier,” I said, not entirely displeased to find someone beside myself guilty of negligence. “It is highly significant!”
“Only in context,” said Nefret, giving me a critical look.
“She claimed later that she had tried to warn me,” Ramses said. He turned to me with as affable an expression as I had ever seen on his face. If his lips had been curved a fraction of an inch more, I would have said he was smiling. “A confounded oblique warning, if that is how it was meant. Never mind, Mother; it’s all right, you know. Would you like a whiskey and soda?”
“Thank you,” I said meekly.
The atmosphere had lightened appreciably. After Ramses had supplied me with the beverage he had offered, he went on. “This theory makes better sense than our original assumption that Sethos was once again our secret adversary. If it is true, the terms of the equation have changed—and not to our advantage. Sethos seems to be bound by a certain code of honor. Obviously no such scruples affect Bertha. She may have decided that the sweetest form of revenge would be to harm, not Mother, but those who are close to her. Viewed in that light, the attacks on us take on quite a different character. Yussuf was not sent to retrieve the papyrus; he was supposed to injure or abduct Nefret.”
“He did try to get the papyrus,” Nefret insisted. “That was what woke me, when he—”
“Stumbled over the box containing the papyrus,” said Ramses. “That explains one of the points that troubled me—how he or any outsider would have known it was in your room. He didn’t know, until he saw it or stubbed his toe on it.”
“Damn it, Ramses, are you implying I was careless about hiding it?”
“Or,” said Ramses hastily, “he was searching for something, anything, worth stealing. Yussuf Mahmud was a thief and a physical coward. Greed overcame him, and when you fought back he fled. The men who attacked David and me could easily have dispatched us. Uncertainty as to our fate would presumably have caused extreme mental anguish to Mother. What could be more painful than to fear for those you love, to know that they are enduring captivity, torture and a prolonged, unpleasant death?”
The hand Emerson had placed on my shoulder tightened. “Did Layla tell you that was what they had in mind for you and David?”
“Not in so many words” was the response. “But it would have been a reasonable conjecture even if she had not hinted at some such thing.”
“Hell and damnation!” Nefret exclaimed. “We’ve got to find the cursed woman! Where can she be hiding? The House of the Doves? How I despise that name!”
“No,” Ramses said firmly. “A woman who favors expensive French champagne would prefer more elegant accommodations.”
“Of course,” I exclaimed. “The champagne! That is another piece of confirmatory evidence. Good Gad, she was actually staying at Layla’s house!”
“Part of the time,” Ramses said. “She must have gone off that night to make the arrangements for our—er—removal. Another indication, perhaps, that her manpower (if you will excuse the term) is limited.”
“Not limited enough,” Emerson said grimly. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Damned if I can think what to do next.”
“One never knows,” I said. “Something