The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [28]
“There was nothing to tell, Gargery,” I assured him. “We had no reason to anticipate any such thing. I still can’t account for it. Why would he—whoever he is—go to such lengths to get the thing back?”
“Obviously,” said Ramses, “because there was something about the confounded thing that might betray his identity. But what?”
“You observed nothing?” I asked.
“No,” said Ramses, visibly chagrined.
“Even more to the point,” said Nefret, “is how the fellow knew we had it.”
“Hmph.” Emerson rubbed his now bristly chin, with a sound like a file rasping on metal.
“We can discuss the ramifications of that question later,” I said. Selim and Daoud were listening with amiable interest. They were quite accustomed to our little criminal encounters, but sooner or later one of them, probably Selim, was going to ask for additional details. Under ordinary circumstances they would have been among the first to be taken into our confidence. Under these circumstances I preferred to delay the revelation.
“It will all be gone into at the proper time,” I continued. “Get a little more sleep if you can, or at least rest awhile longer.”
“England is a dangerous country,” Selim remarked. “We should go back to Egypt where you will be safe.”
FROM LETTER COLLECTION B
Dearest Lia and David,
I understand Aunt Evelyn has already written you about our little burglary, so I make haste to reassure you. Aunt Amelia telephoned poor Mr. O’Connell and scolded him dreadfully for reporting the story, but his wasn’t the only newspaper to print it. I fear every journalist in England is familiar with the name of Emerson! The accounts were exaggerated, as they always are; the only fatality was the Professor’s favorite bust of Socrates, which was smashed to smithereens by a bullet. No one was hurt, except one of the burglars.
In case Aunt Evelyn didn’t mention it, we will soon be following in your footsteps, at least as far as Italy. Poor Daoud has sheepishly admitted that he suffered horribly from seasickness on the voyage over, so we will go by train to Brindisi and board the steamer there instead of sailing direct from London. The Professor has graciously consented to stop along the way in order to show our friends various places of interest. Knowing the Professor, you will not be surprised to hear that the itinerary includes only cities with museums and shops containing Egyptian antiquities…
By the time we reached Brindisi I was not the only member of the party who was glad to leave Europe for sunny Egypt. It had rained in Paris and snowed in Berlin, and on our arrival in Turin we had been greeted by a horrid mixture of sleet and snow. Daoud had been struck all in a heap by the phenomenon of snow; he had stood openmouthed and staring on the Wilhelmstrasse till his face turned blue and his feet turned to ice. He was now suffering from a heavy cold, and was as miserable a man as I have ever seen. (Except for Emerson, who is almost never ill and who behaves like a fiend when he is.)
As soon as we boarded the ship I put Daoud to bed, rubbed him with wintergreen, bundled him up in flannel, and stuffed him full of sleeping medication. The weather was blustery and the sea was rough; Fatima took to her berth, and Selim, who shared Daoud’s cabin, declared he did not intend to leave it until we reached Alexandria. They were not the only sufferers; a mere handful of passengers appeared at dinner that night. Even dampened tablecloths did not prevent the plates from sliding and the glasses from toppling. Thanks to the soothing effect of whiskey and soda (a panacea for numerous ailments, including mal de mer), the rest of us were unaffected, and the indisposition of our poor friends providing us with an opportunity for a council of war, we gathered in Emerson’s and my stateroom after an excellent, if somewhat lively, meal.
It was really quite cozy, with water lashing across the porthole and the oil lamp swinging wildly, casting fascinatingly distorted shadows across the small room. The solid and surly bulk of Horus helped anchor Nefret