The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [167]
“Amazing consideration,” I remarked, feeling considerably better. (The alcoholic content of the beverage may have had something to do with that.) “She hasn’t been so tender of you. Did you have a change of heart? If so, it was not very sensible to let Matilda know of it.”
“Why, Mrs. Emerson, what do you mean? The fact that you do find me in this position—and a confounded uncomfortable one it is, too—ought to be sufficient evidence that I am not on good terms with that formidable female, or her mistress.”
“Not at present,” I conceded. “Or so it would appear. However, as soon as I realized Bertha was our adversary, my suspicions of you revived. It is too much of a coincidence that you should appear on the scene only when she appears, and worm your way into our confidence.”
I had begun inspecting my bonds. Removing one of my hairpins, I stretched out and began probing at the padlock. Sir Edward watched with interest and, I thought, a trifle of amusement.
“That is clever of you, Mrs. Emerson. However, you are still mistaken. The game is up, it appears, so I may as well admit the truth. I would not like you to believe that I am an ally of Madame Bertha, as we call her.”
My fingers lost their grip on the hairpin. I raised myself on one elbow and stared at him. “Don’t try to tell me you are Sethos. I would know him anywhere, in any disguise!”
“Are you certain?” He laughed. “No, I am not Sethos. But I am closely connected with him, and Mme. Bertha was too, until she incurred his fury by arranging that clumsy attack on you. It was careless of him to let her get away, but he is a bit of a romantic where women are concerned—as you ought to know.”
“Hmph,” I said, groping for the hairpin. “I suppose I ought to have suspected that Sethos was your master. Did he send you here?”
A gust of wind rattled the shutters. Sir Edward glanced at the window.
“Since we have nothing better to do at the moment, I may as well answer your questions. Yes, he sent me. But do let us say ‘chief,’ shall we? ‘Master’ is really a bit much. After Mme. Bertha got away, with quite a lot of cash and several of his most valuable antiquities, he thought it possible she would go after you. He was rather busy disposing of Mr. Romer’s collection, but please believe, my dear Mrs. Emerson, if he had been certain you were in imminent danger he would not have left you to a subordinate, even one as talented as I.”
“Curse him,” I muttered. The hairpin had slipped down out of reach. I extracted another from my hair.
“At first I believed affectionate concern had misled him,” Sir Edward resumed. “For I failed to find any trace of the lady in our old haunts in Cairo. What I did not know was that she had secretly made arrangements of her own. The people she recruited this time were the dregs of the Cairo underworld. They knew of her connection with Sethos and she swore them to secrecy with threats of his vengeance. They were clumsy fools, however. If our people had laid that ambush in Cairo, your son and his friends would not have got away.”
“I am not so sure of that,” I said.
“Well, perhaps you are right. Ramses is developing into quite an interesting individual, and Miss Nefret . . . My chief is not easily surprised, but he was struck momentarily speechless when I told him of her part in that affair.”
“You told him? When was that?”
Sir Edward smiled. “You won’t catch me out that way, Mrs. Emerson. However, as you are aware, I did not know of that business until you informed me of it, and it was not until after I had reached Luxor that I realized Madame was here and up to her old tricks.
“What I failed to realize—as did you—was that her crude attacks were feints, designed to focus your attention on criminals and cults, stolen antiquities and—er—fallen women. All the while she sat in her harmless-appearing web, waiting for you to come to her. Fatima was the innocent