The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [36]
“If we are to look at the house this afternoon, we must be getting on,” I announced. “What are the men doing in there?”
Drinking brandy and smoking was what they were doing. I was pleased to observe that Ramses’s glass was untouched, and that Emerson had none. My husband was fidgeting, since the conversation had turned from Egyptology to a subject that interests him very little—firearms. Jack was showing off his gun collection, which was contained in a locked cabinet against one wall.
“What do you need all of those for?” I asked, contemplating with pursed lips the row of deadly weapons.
Jack was obviously not accustomed to having females invade his sacred male domain, much less ask absurd questions. “Why, for hunting, Mrs. Emerson. And protection, of course. Snakes, you know.”
“My husband uses a teakettle,” I said. “Emerson, are you ready to go?”
Grinning, Emerson came to join me. Cold-eyed and unsmiling, Ramses did the same. He disapproved of hunting for sport.
Everyone insisted on accompanying us to inspect the house Miss Maude had located. It was a pleasant walk of less than a mile, along a road shaded by lebbakh trees, with the rippling waters of the river on the left, but I do not think Miss Maude enjoyed it very much. Her narrow skirt and ankle-strap shoes made it necessary for her to cling to someone’s arm, but she had to settle for that of her brother, since Nefret had taken possession of Ramses. It was pure malice that motivated Nefret, I believe, for she did not require assistance; her ankle-length skirt and low-heeled slippers made locomotion for her as easy as for a lad.
We were shown round by the custodian, a mournfulooking individual in a dusty galabeeyah. The house was ideal, in size and in location. It was a little north of the village and a trifle south of the new suburb, set apart in its own ample grounds. It had been built by a former minister of state whose career had taken a sudden turn for the worse. A man of foresight, he had got out of the country with his head still on his shoulders and a fortune in jewels sewn into his clothes. The villa, as it should be called, testified to his good taste if not to his prudence. It must have cost a pretty penny, for the construction was solid and the design an attractive combination of antique charm and modern comfort. Three wings of two stories each surrounded a large courtyard with a tiled fountain in the center. The entrance from the street led to the courtyard through a large and handsomely decorated takhtabosh, a reception hall open on one side to the court. Beautiful mashrabiya screens masked the windows of what had once been the harem, and there were several bath chambers in the European style. Another advantage was that the place was not far from the main road and the electric tramway that led from Cairo to the Pyramids.
After I had looked at each and every chamber I joined the others (who had tired of poking into cupboards and inspecting plumbing) in the courtyard, and announced my decision. “The place suits admirably. We will be settled in before Christmas, on which day I hope you will all join us for a fitting celebration.”
Miss Maude’s large brown eyes widened. “So soon? My dear Mrs. Emerson, it took me three weeks just to get the spiders removed from our house!”
“I have some experience in these matters,” I said. “I will just go round to the office of the agent this evening and settle the business. We will have our people from Atiyah here tomorrow