The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [170]
I prefer to avoid theological discussions with Emerson. His opinions are distressingly unorthodox, and sometimes uncomfortably close to my own private musings.
We had reached our house; the doorman stood ready to admit us. I shivered. “Emerson, can’t we keep the boys from going to Cairo tonight?”
“Having one of your dire forebodings, are you, Peabody?”
“I don’t need a premonition to know they will be in danger. David told me what happened last night. It is highly suspicious.”
“Everything strikes you as highly suspicious,” Emerson said agreeably. “But I know what you mean. We will have another conference with the boys immediately after dinner.”
We went straight in to dinner, since we were later than I had expected we would be, and Emerson proceeded to regale the others with a description of what we had found at Jack’s. It was not the most appropriate conversation for a dinner table, but then most of our conversations are not.
Of all of us Geoffrey was the most disturbed. “Hashish! That is even worse than I feared. Where could Jack have got it?”
“Since it is illegal, he would have to exercise some discretion in obtaining it,” Ramses replied. “But it is not difficult to find.”
“Karl too,” Nefret murmured. I knew she was thinking of Mary and the children.
“Let us not waste time in vain regrets,” I said briskly. “Rather we should apply our collective intelligence to answering the questions that arise from this discovery.”
Agreement was unanimous, but answers were few; part of the difficulty was the necessity of avoiding the other “hashish connection,” as I called it to myself. I understood Ramses’s insistence that Nefret not be told of that aspect of the case, but omitting any mention of the subject made discussion cursed difficult in the light of what we had learned that evening. Several times I found myself on the verge of a reference to it, and Ramses sat poised like a bird of prey, anticipating a slip and ready to pounce on the culprit.
Finally Emerson declared, “I promised von Bork I would have another little chat with him tomorrow. I will interview Reynolds at the same time. If I can do nothing more, I will at least put the fear of God into him.”
“The fear of Emerson, rather,” I said. “Can’t you take his guns away from him?”
“Now there’s a thought,” Emerson admitted, stroking his chin. “That arsenal of his is too convenient—not only for Reynolds, but for anyone who chose to help himself. I understand there has already been one theft. Do you happen to know what was taken, Geoffrey?”
“No, sir.” A look of distaste twisted the young man’s delicate lips. “As I told you, I abhor firearms. I wouldn’t know one from another.”
“You mentioned the Colts,” Ramses said. “There were two of them—new service revolvers, forty-five caliber. He also has—or had, when I saw the collection the day we first went to luncheon with the Reynoldses—a shotgun—a Winchester slide-action with a twenty-inch barrel—two rifles, a Springfield and a Mauser Gewehr, and a Luger pistol.”
Observing Geoffrey’s skeptical look, I explained, “Ramses’s memory is seldom at fault, Geoffrey. Well, Emerson? Were any of them missing?”
“Only one of the Colts. Reynolds isn’t the only man in Cairo who owns a rifle, but … Hmmm, yes. I will relieve him of his collection tomorrow.”
The rain having ended, we went to the courtyard for coffee. I had no intention of allowing Ramses to get away from me without a private discussion—or, as he would have called it, a lecture—and was racking my brain to think of a way of accomplishing this when Nefret excused herself and Geoffrey. His cough had been troubling him all evening, and I could see she was worried about him. They went off arm in arm; as soon as the door had closed behind them, I turned to my son.
“After the failure of your plan last night and the attack on you this afternoon, I trust it has occurred to you that you had better not venture out tonight.”
“Sssh!” said Emerson, glancing uneasily over his shoulder.
“Your