The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [80]
“Hmph,” said Emerson. “Well, my dear Peabody, with your permission I believe we will leave the pyramid for another day. I think I will just—er—see if I can help Ramses.”
“Of course, my dear,” I said sympathetically. “Whatever you say.”
Karl excused himself; he said he was too shaken to work any more that day, and went trotting off on the little donkey he had hired. The rest of us worked until after midday and then started for home. Geoffrey and Nefret were riding ahead, and when Ramses would have joined them Emerson called him back.
We went on at a walk, side by side. With my usual tact I remained silent, wondering which of them would speak first.
They spoke simultaneously.
“Father, I—”
“Ramses, you—”
They broke off, avoiding one another’s eyes, and I said, “Really! You first, Emerson.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Emerson said gruffly.
“I was about to say the same thing, sir.” “Oh, indeed?”
“I am not trying to deny that the ultimate responsibility is mine. That has always been your attitude, sir, and I share it. However …” His voice rose. “I will be damned if I know what I did wrong!”
“Then what did go wrong?” Emerson asked.
“Any number of things might have happened. A slight earth tremor, a sudden subsidence of the area directly under the prop, a careless movement on the part of one of the men … I saw nothing out of the way. I only went down because Nefret was determined to get at those beastly bones of hers, and I wanted to make absolutely certain …”
“I understand,” Emerson said. “Well done. Hmph.”
“I’m not trying to excuse myself,” Ramses insisted. “But we must consider the possibility that it was not an accident.”
“Especially,” said Emerson, stroking his chin, “since it would be the second accident in a single day.”
“The rock fall in the shaft, you mean?” Ramses considered this. “That would rather strengthen the theory that a minor earth tremor was responsible. They do occur.”
“Yes,” Emerson said. “But it’s a bit odd, isn’t it, that this one occurred only here?”
The Vandergelts arrived on schedule. A telegram sent from Meydum, where they had tied up the night before, warned us of their arrival that morning, so we were all on hand to greet them. Emerson, of course, gave Cyrus barely time to eat luncheon before informing him that they must visit the site, and Katherine good-naturedly agreed to go along, claiming she would not mind a bit of exercise after lazing about the boat for ten days.
“Whom else are you expecting?” Katherine asked, as we rode off across the plateau.
“Howard Carter is the only one who is staying at the house. He has been in the Delta looking for a new site for Lord Carnarvon. We have invited quite a large number for Christmas Day. I expect you know most of them.”
“No doubt. Cyrus is so hospitable, he likes to keep open house for any archaeologists visiting Luxor. Will the Petries be coming? We heard he had been in hospital. I hope it was nothing serious.”
“A surgical operation was necessary, but he is recuperating nicely. However, Mrs. Petrie felt he was not fit for a large party and of course she could not consider enjoying herself when he was ill. What is the news from Luxor?”
We were having quite a comfortable little gossip about mutual friends when Ramses, belatedly remembering his manners, or possibly directed by his father, turned back to accompany us. I informed him we did not require an escort, but he would not go away, and so we were forced to change the subject. A wink from Katherine assured me she would finish the story about Mr. Davis and the duchess at a later time.
When we caught the others up, Emerson was arguing with Cyrus about the age of the pyramid.
“Reisner mentioned it last year when he was in Luxor on his way south,” Cyrus insisted. “Said it was Second Dynasty.”
“Bah,” said Emerson. “Far too early. You’re familiar with the plan of the Step Pyramid? Beginning of the Third Dynasty, correct? This is clearly later. Admittedly it’s falling apart, but the shoddy construction was due to the