The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [162]
“I didn’t realize she was that desperate, though,” Emerson admitted. “It may well be that she had used up her resources of money and manpower. The revenge of the crocodile . . . A good phrase that, eh, Peabody? Almost as literary as one of yours. The revenge of the crocodile was designed to inspire terror in her subordinates, but it may have backfired. People are inclined to resign from positions that repay failure by torture and death.”
“It makes a certain amount of sense now,” I admitted. “But you couldn’t have known that when you went there.”
“No; but I did not suppose there would be any difficulty,” said Emerson. “I—what did you say, Ramses?”
“Nothing, sir,” said my son. “That is—you didn’t answer my question.”
“Excuse me,” said Sir Edward. “But I have forgot the question.”
He looked quite bewildered. That is often the case with individuals who are unable to follow the quickness of our mental processes.
“I asked how Father was able to anticipate the precise moment of her attack,” said Ramses. “The fact that the house appeared to be deserted and unusually quiet had aroused my own suspicions, but to judge by Father’s behavior—”
“That was designed to mislead our adversaries,” said Emerson complacently. “It was obvious that we were expected. I say we, since she could not have anticipated how many of us would turn up. No doubt our approach was observed; she had time to bundle the girls out of the place, if she had not already done so. Finding no one below, we ascended the stairs, and I announced in a loud voice that I had come to the conclusion no one was there. I did that to put her off guard, you see, so that she would expect me to blunder into a trap.”
“It was very convincing,” said Ramses.
Emerson looked pleased. I had the distinct impression, however, that the statement had not been meant as a compliment. “Expecting difficulty, I heard the faint click of the gun being cocked. So I pushed Ramses out of the way and got myself out of the line of fire as well. We waited a bit. She had fired three shots, and I thought perhaps she would go on until she had emptied the gun, but after a time I—uh—”
“Lost patience and went in anyhow,” I said. “Confound it, Emerson!”
“That was not the way of it, Peabody. As I told Ramses at the time, the third shot came nowhere near us. I assumed it was intended to delay us long enough for Bertha to make her escape via a window. It was something of a shock to see her lying there. There was nothing we could do for her, so we stopped by the police station and reported the incident before returning to Mohassib’s house.”
“Then her body is now in the morgue?”
“I presume so. Please don’t tell me you want to have a look at it. I assure you, you would not want to.”
“I will spare myself that job, I think. I will always be curious, though, as to what role she had been playing. A tourist, I suppose. I wonder . . .”
“Do not wonder,” Emerson said firmly. “Now, then, Peabody, it is your turn. What was this piece of vital information Mohassib gave you?”
“The papyrus came from the Deir el Bahri cache.”
“Ah,” said Emerson. He started to reach for his pipe, but failed to find it since he was wearing neither coat nor shirt. “Ramses, would you look in my coat pocket for . . . Thank you. Well, Peabody, we surmised that, didn’t we?”
“It was only one of several possibilities, none of which was susceptible to proof. Mohassib was certain. According to him, the Abd er Rassuls kept it hidden for years, until it was taken away by . . .” I paused for effect.
“Sethos, I suppose,” said Emerson calmly. “Well, that ties up the last loose end, I think. Nefret’s theory was right after all. Bertha and Sethos were in league. She took the papyrus when she left him.”
A thoughtful silence followed. The sun had