The Curse of the Pharaohs - Elizabeth Peters [75]
“It was not his fault.”
“I am well aware of that.”
“Then stop fussing and listen to me. I assure you, you will find the story interesting. Arthur confessed—”
“Arthur? How friendly you have become with a murderer! Wait a moment—I thought his name was Charles.”
“I call him Arthur because if I were to use his last name and title it would be confusing. His name is not Milverton.”
Emerson flung himself down on the ground with a look of bored patience, but when I reached the climax of my story he abandoned his efforts to appear disinterested.
“Good Gad,” he exclaimed. “If he is telling the truth—”
“I am sure he is. There would be no reason for him to lie.”
“No—not when the facts can be checked. Doesn’t he realize what an extremely awkward position this places him in?”
“He certainly does. But I have persuaded him to make a clean breast of it. The question is, to whom should he tell his story?”
“Hmmm.” Emerson drew his feet up and rested his forearms on his knees while he considered the question. “He must show proof of his identity if he wants to establish his claim to the title and estate. We had better communicate directly with Cairo. They will certainly be surprised.”
“To find him here, yes. Though I feel sure his existence, as the next heir, is known to whatever government persons concern themselves with such matters. I wonder I did not think of that myself. For, of course, Lord Baskerville’s heir would be the most logical suspect.”
Emerson’s heavy brows drew together. “He would be, if Lord Baskerville’s death was murder. I thought you had concluded that Armadale was the criminal.”
“That was before I knew Milverton’s—I mean Arthur’s— real identity,” I explained patiently. “Naturally he denies having killed his uncle—”
“Oh, he does?”
“You would hardly expect him to admit it.”
”I would not; you did, if you recall. Ah, well; I will talk with the young fool tonight—or tomorrow—and we will see what steps ought to be taken. Now we have wasted enough time. Back to work.”
“I feel we ought to act on this matter without delay,” I said.
“I don’t. The tomb is the matter that will not brook delay.”
Her copy of the paintings completed, Mary returned to the house, and the rest of us resumed work. As the afternoon wore on, I found increasing numbers of objects in the rubble—potsherds and bits of blue faience, and many beads molded of the same glasslike substance. The beads were a nuisance, for they were very small, and I had to sift every cubic centimeter to make sure I had not missed any.
The sun declined westward, and its rays crept under my canvas canopy. I was still looking for beads when a shadow fell across my basket; looking up, I saw Mr. O’Connell. He doffed his hat with a flourish and squatted down beside me.
“Sure and it’s a pity to see a lovely lady spoiling her hands and her complexion with such work,” he said winsomely.
“Don’t waste your Hibernian charm on me,” I said. “I am beginning to think of you as a bird of ill omen, Mr. O’Connell. Whenever you appear, some disaster follows.”
“Ah, don’t be hard on a poor fellow. I’m not my usual cheery self today, Mrs. Emerson, and that’s the truth.”
He sighed heavily. I remembered my scheme to enlist this presumptuous young person in our cause, and moderated my sharp voice. “You have not managed to regain your place in Miss Mary’s affections, then?”
“You’re a canny lady, Mrs. E. Indeed she’s still vexed with me, God bless her for a darling little tyrant.”
“She has other admirers, you know. They leave her little time to miss an impertinent red-haired journalist.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” O’Connell replied gloomily. “I have just come from the house. Mary refused even to see me. She sent a message telling me to take myself off or she would have the servants throw me out. I’m beaten, Mrs. E., and that’s the truth. I want a truce. I’ll accept any reasonable terms if you will help me make my peace with Mary.”
I bowed my head, pretending to concentrate on my work, in order to hide my smile of satisfaction. Having been about to propose a compromise, I was now