The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [95]
‘Well, really,’ I said, tossing the note aside. ‘I am sorry to find Mr O’Connell is such a poor sport. He has played worse tricks on me. All is fair in love, war, and journalism, Gargery.’
‘I took the liberty of saying something of the sort to Mr O’Connell,’ said Gargery. ‘Though it was not put so nicely, madam. You and the professor do have such a striking way of putting things, madam, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
At teatime Emerson had not returned. After waiting an extra quarter-hour, I ordered tea to be brought in and told Mrs Watson she might send the children down. Percy and Violet were the first to appear. Both looked very neat and tidy, though the buttons straining across Violet’s back reminded me of the lecture I had meant to deliver. I proceeded to do so and informed her that from now on she was restricted to one biscuit or slice of cake at tea. Having gobbled the allowed amount and tried in vain to persuade me to change my mind, she retreated in sullen silence to a corner.
Percy had decided that in lieu of butterflies, which were in short supply in London, he would begin collecting beetles. He went on to tell me about it at great length, and I confess the advent of Ramses came as such a relief I welcomed him with more than my usual affection, despite the fact that he smelled strongly of some nasty chemical which had burned several holes through his trousers.
‘I was performing tests on the ushebti, Mama,’ he explained, handing me that object. ‘I am convinced now that it is genuine. The ancient paste burns with a yellow flame, whereas the modern imitation –’
‘I will take your word for it, Ramses,’ I replied. ‘I never doubted that the shawabty was genuine.’
‘Your instincts were quite correct, Mama,’ Ramses replied with ineffable condescension. ‘However, I felt it expedient to make the tests, since, as you probably know, royal ushebtis are in rather short supply, even in museums.’
Percy laughed boyishly. ‘You are a funny chap, Ramses. Fancy knowing all that.’ He gave Ramses a playful nudge.
Seeing Ramses’ elbow move, I said sharply, ‘Don’t fight, boys. Ramses, come here and sit next to me. And give me the shawabty; I don’t want it to be broken.’
Ramses obeyed. I edged away from him, since the smell did not improve on closer acquaintance. ‘So it is a royal shawabty. I thought so, but did not read the inscription.’
‘Men-maat-Re Sethos Mer-en-Ptah,’ said Ramses. ‘It is an interesting coincidence, Mama. The name of Sethos is not unfamiliar to us.’
‘You are unfortunately correct, Ramses.’
‘There is no possibility, I presume, that we are once again matching wits with that unknown genius of crime, that master of disguise, the Master –’
‘I certainly hope not, Ramses. And I advise you not to repeat that idea, or any of the phrases you have just used, to your dear papa.’
‘I would never do that, Mama, since I have observed that any such references enrage Papa to a point even beyond his normal expressions of irritability. I have never really understood why.’
‘Because Sethos escaped us, that is why,’ I said.
Ramses nodded gravely. ‘That possibility had occurred to me, but it does not fully account for the peculiar character of Papa’s fury. To be sure, the fellow had the audacity to hold you prisoner, Mama, and Papa’s attachment to you is so great he would naturally wish to wreak vengeance on anyone who threatened your life –’
‘Quite right, Ramses. He would feel the same if you had been held prisoner.’
‘And yet,’ Ramses insisted, ‘there is an element, indescribable yet persistent, that eludes me. For instance, Mama, the letter Sethos left contained several inexplicable phrases. He seemed to be blaming you for the criminal acts he contemplates in future. The obvious conclusion is that there was something you might have done that would have turned him from his evil ways. But I cannot think what it might have been.