The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [180]
A wall at one’s back prevents antagonistic individuals from creeping up on one, but it also prevents one from eluding such individuals when they are standing directly in front of one. Sethos’s arms were slightly curved and his flexed hands rested lightly against the wall. I knew what would happen if I tried to raise my parasol or slip aside.
“You couldn’t go on kissing me for very long,” I said doubtfully.
Sethos threw his head back and let out a muffled whoop of laughter. “You think not? My darling Amelia, I love the way you go straight to the point. Most women would squawk or faint. I could certainly go on kissing you long enough for my fingers to find a certain nerve that would render you instantly and painlessly unconscious. Don’t tempt me. I suggested this rendezvous because I wanted to bid you farewell under circumstances more romantic than those that prevailed at our last meeting, and because I thought you might have a few questions.”
“And because you wanted to show off,” I said disdainfully. “It is an excellent disguise, but I would have known you if I had ever got a good look at you.”
“Possibly. I took the precaution of spending most of my time in the depths of that tomb.” He smiled mockingly. “I have learned a great deal about photography these past days.”
“Confound it! The night Sir Edward had dinner with you—”
“He gave me a quick coaching on a subject of which I was totally ignorant,” Sethos agreed amiably. “I am a man of many talents, but photography is not one of them. The plates I took that first day were absolute disasters. They were so bad, in fact, that we decided Edward had better come and ‘assist’ me. He did the real work after that. But I fear Mr. Davis is going to be rather disappointed by some of the photographs.”
A hideous foreboding came over me. “Oh, good Gad! Do you mean there is no photographic record after all?”
“You really do care about your bloody—excuse me—about your tombs, don’t you?” His smile no longer mocked me; it was fond and kind. I looked away.
The conductor’s whistle sounded. Sethos glanced over his shoulder. “That is what I wanted you to know, Amelia. I can’t give Mr. Davis all the photographs Edward took; even a dismal incompetent like him might notice that some of the objects shown in the photographs are no longer in the tomb—or the coffin.”
“What! How? When?”
“The night before M. Maspero arrived in Luxor.” The strange eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles shone. “It isn’t difficult to bribe those poor devils of guards, but your husband may consider himself lucky that Edward was able to persuade him not to go to the Valley that night. Now, dear Amelia, don’t look so indignant. Robbing tombs is my profession, you know.”
“What did you take? How did you—”
“I fear there is not time to answer all your questions. Rest assured I did as little damage as possible—less, I believe, than that heavy-handed pack of so-called professional scholars. I have some of the world’s most expert restorers—or forgers, if you prefer that term—in my employ, and the artifacts I removed will be well taken care of. The photographic record is complete. One day, after I am past caring about criminal prosecution, it will be made available to the world—and to you. I did it for you, you know. How true it is that the influence of a noble woman can reform an evil man! Good-bye, darling Amelia. For now.”
The train had begun to move. He bent his head, and I thought for a moment he would . . . There was nothing I could have done about it. Instead his lips brushed my forehead, and then he turned and ran. Swinging himself onto the steps of the last car, he blew me a kiss of farewell.
I think the thing I found most flattering was that he had taken it for granted I would not bother telegraphing the authorities in Cairo. By the time the train reached that city, Mr. Paul would no longer be on board.
Did I hasten home and tell Emerson all about it? No. I would tell him, and