The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [146]
“There is no need for such a fuss,” I assured him. “It’s only a swoon. Put her down.”
“She’s never swooned in her life!” Ignoring my sensible suggestion, he dropped onto the divan, holding her tightly. Uttering incoherent ejaculations, Emerson snatched one of her limp hands and began slapping it. I selected a clean cup, poured tea, and added several heaping spoonfuls of sugar.
A moment or two later Nefret stirred. “What happened?” she asked weakly.
“You swooned,” Emerson said in a hoarse voice.
“I’ve never swooned in my life!” Her color was back to normal and indignation brightened her blue eyes. “Put me down.”
“It was my fault,” Ramses said wretchedly. “I shouldn’t have burst in like that. I suppose you thought . . . Are you sure you’re all right?”
She smiled up into his anxious face. “I can think of something that would complete the cure.”
I have no objection to public displays of affection between married persons or those about to be wed, but I did not want Ramses distracted. I said firmly, “A nice hot cup of tea,” and took it to her.
Nefret pushed it away. “Give it to Ramses. He looks as if he needs it more than I do.”
“I’m all right. Just a little tired. I haven’t had much sleep in the past forty-eight hours.”
“Did you come in through the secret door?” Emerson asked.
Ramses shook his head. He had acquired a few more scrapes and bruises, including a sizable lump on his temple. “There’s no need for secrecy now. The job is blown, Father. A complete disaster from start to finish.”
Nefret studied him critically. “It would be nice if just once you could come back from one of your expeditions unbruised and unbloodied.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Ramses said defensively.
“According to Chetwode, you heroically took on ten men so that he could get away,” Emerson said.
“So he’s been here. It was only six,” Ramses added.
“Hmph,” said Emerson. “Yes, he’s been here, and our cover is also blown. He insisted on delivering his message in person, and if he didn’t know my identity when he came, he does now. I—er—I forgot myself when he broke the news that you had been captured and were in ‘the merciless grip of the most dangerous man in the Ottoman Empire,’ as he put it. The fellow has something of a melodramatic streak.”
“Hmmm,” said Ramses. “So he lingered long enough to see that, did he?”
“He claimed he had hoped to come to your assistance, but the odds were too great, and he was obliged to follow your orders. It was at this point that your mother and Nefret came rushing in—”
“We were in one of the secret passages,” I explained. “Very useful devices. The news that a British officer had come here with a message naturally aroused our interest, so we—”
“Also forgot yourselves,” said Emerson.
“My dear, the damage was already done. Lieutenant Chetwode did not seem at all surprised when we popped out of that cupboard.”
“He’s going to put you in for a DSO,” Nefret said.
“How nice,” said Ramses, with sardonic amusement. “So you sat here drinking tea while, for all you knew, I was undergoing hideous tortures?”
“We were discussing what steps to take in order to rescue you,” I explained. “And how to go about them in the most efficient manner.”
“I know, Mother. I was joking.”
“I would be the last to deny that a touch of humor is seldom amiss,” I said. “However . . . Lieutenant Chetwode told us what transpired up till the time he ran away. So you need not repeat that part.”
“Did he happen to mention that we would have made it out without running or any other inconvenience if he hadn’t tried to shoot Ismail Pasha?”
Nefret gasped and Emerson swore, and I said evenly, “I take it he did not succeed?”
“No. He hadn’t a chance of killing him. The governor’s considerable bulk was in the way and there was a good deal of commotion. It was my fault, really,” Ramses went on wearily. “I suspected he was armed and took one pistol away from him before we left. I should have had the sense to realize Cartright would anticipate that and provide him with a second weapon. I didn’t search