The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [165]
I had meant to say something about the delicate family situation, but for some reason I could not find appropriate words.
The morning brought the usual messages, most of them hand-delivered. There was nothing from Mme. Maspero. Well, but they had only arrived the previous day, and according to the rules of proper etiquette it was up to me to make the first call. I penned a brief, friendly message, asking them to dine on the Friday.
One message was of interest, however, and I was perusing it when Fatima came to bring me another pot of coffee and a plate of biscuits.
“You are determined to make me fatter, Fatima,” I said with a smile.
“Yes, Sitt Hakim,” Fatima said seriously. “Sitt—is it true your enemy is dead?”
I wasn’t surprised that she should know of it. The verbal grapevine operates efficiently in small towns. “Yes, it is true. The danger is over. But where is Sir Edward? I haven’t set eyes on him this morning.”
“He is in his room, Sitt. Do you want I tell him to come?”
“Tell him he is welcome to join me if he likes,” I corrected gently.
She went off, repeating the words under her breath. Such dedication to learning! I really felt quite ashamed that I had not paid more attention to her studies.
Sir Edward promptly appeared, but he refused refreshment. “I am about to cross over to Luxor,” he explained. “Unless you or the Professor need me for something.”
“The Professor has already gone to the Valley. I decided to have a lazy day here at home.”
“You are certainly entitled to one. Well, then, I will see you this evening, if that is convenient.”
He appeared to be in rather a hurry. No, I thought; it is not Mr. Paul who inspires such devotion.
The family returned earlier than I had expected, bringing Abdullah and Selim with them.
“Well, did you accomplish what you hoped?” I asked.
“Yes.” Emerson was looking very shifty. “Most of it. Why are you wearing that frock, Peabody? I dare not suppose you put on your best for me.”
“I am going out to tea,” I replied, nodding at Fatima, who had hurried in with her usual food offerings. “I received an invitation this morning from Fatima’s teacher.”
“In this weather?” Emerson took a biscuit.
“It is not raining.”
“It will rain,” Abdullah declared. “But not until tonight.”
“There, you see? I have been meaning to meet the lady for some time, and have always been prevented. She has asked Miss Buchanan and Miss Whiteside as well, so it should be an interesting meeting.”
“Hmph,” said Emerson, fingering the cleft in his chin. “Very well, Peabody. Ramses and I ought to make a formal statement to the police. May as well get it over.”
We all went, including Abdullah and Selim. Fortunately we are all good sailors; the water was quite choppy and the boat bounced a good deal. I had to tie my hat down with a long scarf. At first Nefret could not decide whether to accompany me or go with the others. Detective fever won the day. I let her go without lecturing her, since I knew she hadn’t a chance of convincing Emerson, not to mention Ramses and David, that she should be allowed to examine the body.
Because of the blustery weather and the size of my hat, I decided to take a carriage from the quay. Emerson gallantly handed me in, and then got in with me.
“Now what is this?” I demanded. “Have you kept something from me, Emerson?”
“I have kept nothing from you, my dear,” said Emerson, waving the driver to proceed. “Have you kept anything from me?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Emerson, is it Sethos again? You cannot suppose I am in secret communication with him.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.” Seeing my expression, he caught my hand and squeezed it. “That was just one of my little jokes, sweetheart. I would never doubt your affection, but I do doubt your good sense. You have