The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [173]
Except for Selim, the rest of us had not. I persuaded Nefret to lie down and took Esin off into a corner so our voices would not disturb her. We found a common interest in women’s rights, and I told her all about the suffrage movement and how I had marched with the suffragists and been seized by a large constable. She declared that she would have done the same, and kicked the constable as well.
Emerson sat in brooding silence, smoking Ramses’s cigarettes and slipping out of the room periodically to look in on his brother. Ramses brooded too, over Nefret, sitting quietly beside her with his eyes fixed on her face. After a while I took Esin with me to the kitchen and showed her how to make tea. It was the first time she had ever performed such a menial chore, I believe. She was certainly clumsy enough. However, we got the tray upstairs without disaster.
Late in the afternoon the sun made its appearance, and shortly afterward Sethos made his. He was in a vile mood, which I had expected, and he had shaved his beard, which I had not expected. The strange gray-green eyes swept the room in a contemptuous and comprehensive survey. “Everybody here?” he inquired in his most offensive tone. “How nice.”
I knew what concerned him most and I hastened to give him the news that would relieve his mind. “We believe Sir Edward has not gone to Gaza but to Khan Yunus.”
“Oh?” He rubbed his chin. “Let us hope you are right.”
“I am certain of it,” I said. “Tea?”
“No.” He flung himself down on the divan.
“You had better have some. Take it to him, Esin.” I handed her the cup. “Lemon, no sugar, isn’t that right?”
His eyes met mine and his tight mouth turned up at this reminder of the last time we had taken tea together. Unfortunately it reminded Emerson too. He knew what had happened at that meeting, for of course I had confided fully in him. However, he confined his comments to a wordless grumble.
“Are you really Ismail Pasha?” the girl asked doubtfully. She stood beside him, the cup held carefully in both hands.
Sethos rose and took it from her. A smile transformed his haggard face, and the cultivated charm slipped onto him like a cloak. “Is it the absence of the beard that confused you? I am indeed the same man, and I am relieved to find you well and safe. My friends have looked after you?”
The charm was a little tattered, but it was good enough for Esin. “Oh, yes, but I was frightened for a while; there was fighting and we had to run away.”
“Tell me about it,” Sethos murmured.
Her account was accurate, on the whole, though she made a thrilling tale of it. Sethos listened attentively, his mobile countenance expressing admiration, astonishment, and distress at appropriate intervals, but I could tell she had not his complete attention. He was listening and waiting—as were we all.
The sunlight deepened to amber and then faded into gray, and there was still no sign of Sir Edward. Ramses lighted the lamps. I was about to suggest we do something about supper when the long-awaited sound of footsteps was heard and Sir Edward came into the room. In that first moment he had eyes only for his chief. Had I doubted the warmth of their friendship, the looks of relief on both faces would have proved it. Being English, they did not express their feelings.
“It’s good to see you, sir,” Sir Edward said coolly. “Mustafa told me you were here.”
“You ought to have been here” was the equally cool reply. “Sit down and have a cup of tea.”
“It’s cold,” I said, inspecting the sad dregs.
“I’ll take it anyhow.” Sir Edward dropped heavily onto the divan next to Emerson. “Sorry, Professor, I wasn’t able to get your whiskey. The house—”
“Then we will have to settle for claret,” said Sethos, going to the wine cabinet. “My supplies have become somewhat depleted. Amelia?”
“Yes,” I said, answering both the spoken question and the unspoken order. “Esin, I suggest you—er—go to your room and rest.”
“I don’t need to rest,” said the young person. “I am not tired.”
“Then help Selim find us something to eat.”
I