The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [144]
Sophia showed us to her office and Ramses plunged at once into his reason for coming. He must have planned in advance exactly what to say, for he gave only the necessary facts without entering into such details as the child’s striking resemblance to me and the name of the presumed father. “It was an attempt at blackmail,” he finished. “Which did not succeed. We have tried to find the girl, for I feel certain she was not a willing participant in the scheme, and it is possible Kalaan might vent his anger on her. In which case she might come here.”
Though Sophia was courteous enough to pretend she knew nothing of the matter, it was clear to me that she had heard some version of it—the most malicious and insulting version, probably. I also understood why Ramses had asked me to accompany him. She had been rather stiff and formal with us; I had believed it to be her normal manner until her stern face relaxed. My presence supported his explanation, which she might not have accepted otherwise.
“I see. I cannot recall anyone of that description. I will notify you at once if she does come here, but I am afraid it is unlikely. We are able to help so few.”
We chatted for a while. She had heard of Nefret’s marriage and asked me to convey her good wishes, adding, with a smile and a twinkle, that they understood why Nefret had not been able to spend much time at the clinic. I expressed my admiration for the work she was doing, and she shook her head sadly.
“My medical training is limited to gynecology, Mrs. Emerson. We need a surgeon, but where are we to get one? Even if we could find a man who would be willing to donate his services, it might get us in trouble with the religious authorities. There are so few women being trained in that specialty.”
We were about to take our leave when she said, “Perhaps I ought not ask; but you said the child’s father is English. Would he be able to help you locate the young woman?”
“He was a tourist,” I said. “It was not a long-lasting relationship, I believe.”
“Expressed with your well-known irony, Mrs. Emerson. They will do it, the irresponsible creatures.”
“I believe you are being ironic now,” I said. “‘Irresponsible’ is certainly an understatement. Aside from the moral issues, they risk catching some singularly unpleasant diseases.”
“How many men—and women—guide their actions according to safety and common sense?” was the inquiry. “The more sophisticated of them do take the usual precautions.” She hesitated, her pleasant face hardening, and then added, “The most sophisticated use only girls who are … who had remained untouched.”
When we were outside the house, Ramses drew my arm through his. “Mother, I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“I know such things happen. I saw she was very young …” I was unable to continue.
“I should never have taken you there. Forgive me.”
I gave myself a little shake. “It is for you to forgive me. I do not often yield to weakness, I believe. But it is one thing to contemplate such a vile act in the abstract, quite another to think of its being committed by a man one knows—a man whose hand one has taken.”
“Yes,” Ramses said. “I understand.”
Shepheard’s terrace was crowded, as it always is at teatime, but I never have any difficulty in finding a place. Mr. Baehler now owned the hotel, and his successor as manager was just as obliging. I went to freshen up; by the time I returned, Freddy was waiting to show me to a choice table near the railing. Ramses was slow in joining me. I presumed he had encountered an acquaintance, so I amused myself by observing the passing crowds, one of whom, as I was soon to discover, had also observed me.
Percy was not in uniform, so I did not notice him until he was almost at my side. Taken by surprise, I was unable to conceal the shock and disgust I felt, even supposing I had been inclined to do so. He read my countenance and hastened to