The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [153]
Ramses raised his head. His lashes were wet. Not until then did I identify the peculiar sound he was making.
“Good Gad,” I gasped. “Are you laughing?”
Ramses wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I beg your pardon.”
“Granted,” I said, relieved. “Your father does that sometimes.”
“I know.” He sobered. “Laughter is somewhat inappropriate, however. Look here.”
He pulled the scarf from the man’s face, disclosing a nasty sight. The jaw was askew and horribly swollen, the mouth distorted.
“I thought his posture and build looked familiar,” Ramses said. “This is one of the guards who was at Layla’s house.”
“No wonder your hand was hurt. You broke his jaw.”
“Evidently. He’s been going around like this for days, without medical attention. Poor devil.” Ramses turned the body over. There was another hole in the man’s back, smaller than the one in front. “He was expendable, injured as he was, and he had failed in his job. Like Yussuf. They gave him another chance—a slim chance, as he knew, but you might have been alone and unarmed. And if he failed, this was a more merciful death than the . . . crocodile.”
I shivered. “What shall we do with him?”
Ramses bent over the body and began searching it. Aside from the knife and a packet of tobacco there was nothing on the fellow except a cord around his neck, from which hung a silver amulet.
“Didn’t do him much good, did it?” remarked my son “We’ll notify the police. Nothing more we can do.”
“The goat,” I reminded him, after he had helped me to mount.
“Yes, of course.”
The goat was not hurt, only pinned by the rock. It went gamboling off as soon as Ramses freed it. I was relieved, because we had enough animals as it was, and this one was of the masculine gender.
Emerson was not pleased when he learned what had occurred. I was prepared to defend Ramses, but I did not have to. Emerson was not angry with Ramses.
“Curse you, Peabody,” he cried heatedly. “The old wounded-animal trick, for God’s sake! Will you never learn?”
We had retired to our room and I was at that moment held tightly in his arms, so my reply was somewhat muffled.
“It is irresistible, Emerson; it can never fail with any of us. Besides, there is a limited range of possibilities open to even the most inventive adversary.”
Emerson was still laughing when he put his hand under my chin and tilted my face up into a more convenient position.
Sometime later I sat on the edge of the bed watching while he performed his ablutions.
“I hope you will excuse me for laughing,” he remarked amid his sputtering and splashing. “But really, Peabody, making excuses for the paucity of imagination of an enemy . . .”
“Ramses laughed too,” I said.
“Ramses?” Emerson turned and stared at me, water dripping off his chin.
“Yes, I was quite astonished. The alteration of his features was amazing. I had not realized how strongly he resembles you. In fact, he is quite a nice-looking lad.”
“He is a handsome devil,” Emerson corrected. He added, grinning, “Like his father. I won’t ask what you said to provoke Ramses to such an extraordinary reaction, since it wouldn’t have struck you as amusing.”
“I don’t remember. But I believe Ramses’s analysis of the event was correct. She is using up her forces rather callously, isn’t she? Three so far, if the girl was one of them.”
“She must have been, willingly or not,” Emerson muttered. “What did she know that made her so dangerous to them?”
“Come and have your tea, my dear. Perhaps inspiration will come to you.”
The others were assembled on the verandah when we went out. The only missing member of the party was Sir Edward. His absence was immediately noted by Emerson, but no one could explain it.
“Unless,” I suggested, “he has gone to Luxor with Mr. Paul. As you yourself pointed out, Emerson, he is not in your employ.”
“He does seem to be losing interest in us,” Nefret remarked. “Has he given us up as a bad job, do you suppose?”
She was sitting on the ledge next to Ramses, who had politely drawn his feet up to make room for her.
“One could