The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [8]
Nefret’s smile faded. “Uh—I had the chance to watch an interesting dissection.”
“You were not at the hospital this afternoon.”
“How the devil . . .” She glanced at me and bit her lip. “No. I went for a walk instead. With a friend.”
“How nice,” I said. “That explains the pretty color in your cheeks. Fresh air and exercise! There is nothing like it.”
Ramses turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, followed by David.
By the time we assembled for dinner, the two of them had made it up. Nefret was especially sweet to Ramses, as she always was after one of their arguments. Ramses was especially silent, as he seldom was. He left it to me to describe the demonstration, which I did with my customary vivacity and little touches of humor. However, I was not allowed to finish, for Emerson does not always appreciate my little touches of humor.
“Most undignified and vulgar,” he grumbled. “Striking constables on the head with placards, pushing rudely into a man’s house! Romer is an unmitigated ass, but I cannot believe that such behavior serves your cause, Amelia. Tactful persuasion is more effective.”
“You are a fine one to talk of tact, Emerson,” I replied indignantly. “Who was it who tactlessly knocked down two constables last spring? Who was it whose tactless remarks to the Director of Antiquities led to our being refused permission to search for new tombs in the Valley of the Kings? Who was it—”
Emerson’s blue eyes had narrowed into slits, and his cheeks were becomingly flushed. He drew a deep breath. Before he could employ it in speech, Gargery, Nefret and David all spoke at once.
“More mint jelly, sir?”
“How is the History coming along, Professor?”
Nefret addressed her question to me instead of to Emerson. “When are Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Walter and little Amelia expected? Tomorrow or the next day?”
Emerson subsided with a grunt, and I replied sedately, “The following day, Nefret. But you all must remember not to call her ‘little Amelia.’ ”
Ramses scarcely ever smiled, but his expression softened a trifle. He was very fond of his young cousin. “It will be difficult. She is a dear little thing, and a diminutive suits her.”
“She claims that two Amelias in the family make for confusion,” I explained. “I suspect, however, that what puts her off is the fact that your father is inclined to call me Amelia only when he is vexed with me. He generally uses my maiden name as a term of commendation and—er—affection. Now, Emerson, don’t glare at me, you know it is true; I have seen the poor child start convulsively when you bellow ‘Curse it, Amelia!’ in that tone of voice.”
Again Nefret intervened to prevent a profane utterance from Emerson. “Is it settled then that she is coming out to Egypt with us this year?”
“She has won her parents over, with David’s help. Evelyn said his gentle persuasion was irresistible.”
David flushed slightly and bent his head.
“She is the only one of their children who is interested in Egyptology,” I went on. “It would be a pity if she were prevented from developing that interest only because she is female.”
“Ah, so that is how you got round them,” Ramses said, glancing from me to his silent friend. “Aunt Evelyn would find that argument hard to resist. But Melia—Lia—is very young.”
“She is only two years younger than you, Ramses, and you have been going out to Egypt since you were seven.”
In my enjoyment of the pleasures of familial intercourse I had forgotten my odd foreboding. Yet, had I but known, Nemesis was even then almost upon us. In fact, he was at that very moment in the act of ringing the bell.
We were about to rise from table when Gargery entered the dining room. His look of frozen disapproval warned me, even before he spoke, that he was displeased about something.
“There is someone from the police to see you, Mrs. Emerson. I informed him you were not receiving callers, but he insisted.”
“Mrs. Emerson?” my husband repeated. “Not me?”
“No, sir. Mrs. Emerson and Mr. Ramses were the ones he asked for.”
“Curse it!” Emerson jumped