The Curse of the Pharaohs - Elizabeth Peters [119]
As we went toward Madame’s room, Mary said with a sigh, “I can leave with a lighter heart. Our fears for his safety are now relieved.”
“True,” I said, half to myself. “If he was struck during his sleep, as seems to be the case, he never saw the villain’s face, so there is no reason why he should be attacked again. However, I do not regret the precautions we took. We had to make sure.”
Mary nodded, though I do not think she really heard what I was saying. The closer we came to that room which must seem to her like a goblin’s foul lair, the more slowly she moved. A shudder passed through her frame as she reached for the knob.
The room was in shadow, the shades having been drawn to keep out the afternoon sun. The attendant lay huddled on a pallet at the foot of the bed. She looked like a corpse in her worn brown robes, but she was only asleep; I could hear her breathing.
Mary touched her mother gently on the arm. “Mother, wake up. I am back. Mother?”
Suddenly she reeled back, her hands clasped on her breast. I leaped to support her. “What is it?” I cried. She only shook her head dumbly.
After helping her into a chair I went to the bed. It required no great stretch of imagination to anticipate what I would find.
When we entered, Madame Berengeria had been lying on her side with her back to the door. Mary’s touch, gentle as it was, had disturbed the balance of the body and caused it to roll onto its back. One glance at the staring eyes and lax mouth told the story. It was not even necessary for me to seek a nonexistent pulse, though I did so, as a matter of routine.
“My dear child, this could have happened at any time,” I said, taking Mary by the shoulders and giving her a sympathetic shake. “Your mother was a sick woman, and you should regard this as a blessed release.”
“You mean,” Mary whispered. “You mean it was—her heart?”
“Yes,” I said truthfully. “Her heart stopped. Now, child, go and lie down. I will do what needs to be done here.”
Mary was visibly heartened by the false assumption I had allowed her to form. Time enough for her to learn the truth later. The Arab woman had awakened by this time; she cringed when I turned to her, as if expecting a blow. I did not see how she could be blamed, so I spoke gently to her, instructing her to take care of Mary.
When they had gone, I went back to the bed. Madame’s fixed stare and sagging jowls were not a pleasant sight, but I have seen worse things and done worse; my hands were quite steady as I went about my ghoulish but necessary tasks. The flesh was still warm. That proved little, since the temperature of the room was hot, but the eyes gave away the truth. They were so widely dilated as to appear black. Berengeria’s heart had certainly stopped, but it had stopped as the result of a large dose of some narcotic poison.
CHAPTER
Sixteen
I sent a message at once to Emerson, although I never supposed for a moment that he would allow the small matter of another murder to distract him from his work. In fact, it was not until teatime that he returned. I was waiting for him; and as he stripped off his work-stained garments I brought him up to date on the events of the day. He seemed more struck by what Arthur had told me.
“Very interesting,” he said, stroking his chin. “Ve-ry interesting! That should relieve us of one concern; if he did not see the killer we may assume, may we not, that he is not liable to a second attack. I say, Amelia, did you think of summoning Dr. Dubois to look at Madame, or did you do the postmortem yourself?”
“I did call him, not because he could add anything to what I already knew, but because he had to sign the death certificate. He agreed with me that death was due to an overdose of laudanum or some similar poison; even he could not overlook the signs of that. He claims, however, that the drug was self-administered, by accident. Apparently all Luxor knew Madame’s habits.”
“Humph,” said Emerson, rubbing his chin so hard it turned pink. “Ve-ry interest—”
“Do stop that,” I said crossly. “You