The Curse of the Pharaohs - Elizabeth Peters [83]
In short, there was nothing we could do for Arthur but wait until nature performed her task, and since there was no good hospital closer than Cairo, it would have been folly to move him.
Lady Baskerville offered to do the nursing. She would have been the logical person to assume the responsibility, but Mary was equally determined to tend the young man, and the argument became rather heated. Lady Baskerville’s eyes began to flash and her voice took on the rasping quality indicative of rising temper. When summoned to settle the dispute, Emerson aggravated both ladies by announcing that he had already asked for professional assistance. The professional, a nun from a nursing order in Luxor, duly arrived; and although I have no sympathy with the idolatrous practices of Popery, the sight of the calm, smiling figure in its severe black robes had an amazingly comforting effect.
Emerson and I then set out for the Valley; for he could not bear to carry out his business with the Gurnawis without at least looking in on his beloved tomb. I had a hard time keeping up with him; he went loping along the path as if a few seconds’ delay could be disastrous. I finally persuaded him to slow down because there were several questions I wanted to ask him. But before I could speak, he burst out, “We are so cursedly shorthanded! Mary won’t be worth much today, she will be mooning over that worthless young man.”
This seemed an auspicious time to introduce the proposal I had formed concerning Mr. O’Connell. Emerson responded more calmly than I had hoped.
“If that young——comes within six feet of me, I will kick him in the rear,” he remarked.
“You will have to abandon that attitude. We need him.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do. In the first place, giving him the exclusive rights to report on our activities means that we can exercise control over what he writes. Moreover, we are increasingly short of able-bodied men. I include myself in that category, of course—”
“Of course,” Emerson agreed.
“Even so, we are shorthanded. Someone ought to be at the house, with the women. The rest of us are needed at the dig. O’Connell knows nothing about excavation, but he is a sharp young fellow, and it would relieve my mind to know that a capable person was watching over the household. Mary is not incapable, I don’t mean to imply that, but between her work at the tomb and her duties to her mother, she will have more than enough to do.”
“True,” Emerson admitted.
“I am glad you agree. After all, Armadale may strike again. You may think me fanciful, Emerson—”
“I do, Amelia, I do.”
“—but I am worried about Mary. Armadale once proposed to her; he may yet cherish an illicit passion. Suppose he decides to carry her off?”
“Across the desert on his fleet white camel?” Emerson inquired with a grin.
“Your levity is disgusting.”
“Amelia, you must overcome your ridiculous weakness for young lovers,” Emerson exclaimed. “If Armadale is skulking in the mountains, he has a great deal more on his mind than making love to some chit of a girl. But I agree with your earlier remark. Why do you suppose I called in a professional nurse? The blow aimed at Milverton-Baskerville (curse these people who travel under assumed names) was meant to silence him forever. The attacker may try again.”
“So that occurred to you, did it?”
“Naturally. I am not senile yet.”
“It is not kind of you to expose the poor nun to the attentions of a murderer.”
“I don’t believe there is any danger until Milverton shows signs of returning consciousness—if he ever does. All the same, your proposal about O’Connell has some merit, and I am willing to consider it. However, I refuse to speak to that fiend of a journalist myself. You will have to make the arrangements.”
“I will gladly do so. But I think you are a little hard on him.”
“Bah,” said Emerson. “The Egyptians knew what they were about when they made Set, the ancient