The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [156]
Emerson tossed his pen down onto the table and leaned back in his chair. Fingering the cleft in his chin, he fixed amused blue eyes on me. “Come now, Peabody, you don’t suppose I would do anything so foolish as to wander off inviting someone to ambush me?”
“You have done it before.”
“I am older and wiser now,” Emerson declared. “No. There are more sensible ways of proceeding. I’ll tell you what, Peabody; put Katherine off for another day or two, and we will go after the bastards who killed that girl.”
They had also kidnapped his son and David and attacked Nefret, but it was the horrible death of the young woman that had driven Emerson into action. He tries to hide his softer side, but like all true Britons he will go to any length to defend or avenge the helpless.
“What do you have in mind?” I inquired.
“We are still in the dark as to the motive behind this business. The papyrus is the only solid clue we possess. We never did pursue that lead. If we can find out where it came from we may be able to deduce the identity of the individual who was last in possession of it.”
“Bertha,” I said.
“Curse it, Peabody, we don’t know that that is so. We’ve put together a pretty plot, but there is no proof that she is the guilty party. Sethos, on the other hand—”
“You always suspect him. There is no proof of his guilt either.”
“And you always defend the bastard! I intend to get that proof. I made a few inquiries earlier, but only about Yussuf. I did not mention the papyrus. It came originally from Thebes, so it must have passed through the hands of one of the Luxor dealers. Mohammed Mohassib is a likely possibility. He has been in the business for thirty years, and he has handled some of the finest antiquities that ever came out of the Theban tombs. You heard what Carter said about him the other evening. Can it be a coincidence that he asked to see me?”
“Not you, Emerson. Me.”
“Same thing. I will show him the papyrus and promise him immunity and undying friendship if he can give us useful information. We’ll leave the Valley early and go over to Luxor.”
I slept peacefully and soundly for most of the night. It was near dawn when I was aroused by a piercing scream.
There was no question where it had originated or who had voiced it. It shot even Emerson out of bed. Of course he immediately fell over his boots, which he had carelessly left on the floor, so I was the second person on the scene.
The first was Ramses. The room was extremely dark, but I recognized his outline. He stood by Nefret’s bed, looking down at her.
“What is it?” I cried. “Why are you just standing there? What is wrong?”
Ramses turned. I heard the scrape of a match. The flame sprang up and strengthened as he held it to the candlewick.
By that time the others had hastened to the scene. Never had I been so glad I had insisted on proper sleeping attire. They were all more or less clad, even Emerson, though a good deal of bare skin showed. Sir Edward had not waited to put on a dressing gown, but he was wearing a pair of tasteful blue silk pajamas.
Nefret sat up. “I am very sorry,” she began; but her voice broke. Helpless with laughter, she bent her head over the enormous bulk clasped in her arms.
“Good Gad,” I exclaimed. “How did he get here?”
Ramses set the candle down on a table. “Someday I am going to murder that animal,” he said in a conversational voice.
“Now, you know you would never do such a thing,” I said.
“I might, though,” said Emerson, behind me. “Damnation! My heart is going at twice the normal rate.”
“It was my fault,” Nefret insisted. “I was sound asleep, and when he jumped onto my stomach he knocked the breath out of me and I thought . . .” She hugged Horus closer. “He didn’t mean it, did him?”
I managed to get Ramses out of the room before he said very many bad words. Next morning we found one of Cyrus’s servants squatting patiently on the verandah, waiting for us to come out. Lifting the hem of his robe to his knees, he demanded some of the stinging water. He