The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [193]
He was even happier next day, when he found a new tomb. It wasn’t much of a tomb; the offering chapel had been completely destroyed and the burial chamber was empty of all but scraps, but there were several well-preserved paintings.
“That will keep him out of mischief for a while,” remarked Emerson to me. “It will take several days to carry out a meticulous excavation and make plans. He can have Jumana to help him.”
“Kind of you,” I said. “She gets on your nerves, doesn’t she?”
“She talks too much. I almost preferred her moping. What did you do to get her out of it?”
“Nothing—unless it was that nasty medicine. I hope there is not a sinister—”
“Sinister, bah! There you go again, borrowing trouble.”
“You are right, Emerson,” I admitted. “I am so accustomed to having some worry on my mind that it is difficult to realize our enemies have been vanquished and our problems solved.”
“Except for one,” Emerson muttered. “ ‘The hand of the god.’ What god? Where?”
Sennia joined us for tea that afternoon, so full of exciting news, she neglected the biscuits. “The Great Cat of Re has caught a snake!”
We all looked at the cat, who had assumed one of those Yoga-like positions necessary for the proper cleaning of feline underparts. It looked so silly, with one leg in the air and the other behind its ear, we all burst out laughing.
“A very large snake?” Emerson inquired.
“No larger than this,” said Fatima, measuring approximately five inches with finger and thumb. “But it was still alive, Father of Curses, and I do not know whether there will be any dinner tonight, because it is still somewhere in the kitchen and Maaman says—”
“It has probably escaped long ago,” Emerson said comfortably.
“Then you tell Maaman,” said Fatima, thumping the teapot down on the table. “He says he will not cook.”
“Oh, curse it,” said Emerson. “I suppose I’ll have to do something or we won’t get any dinner.”
“Take the Great Cat of Re,” Sennia suggested.
“Not a bad idea,” said Emerson, scooping the cat up. Sennia crammed two biscuits into her mouth and went with them.
“Let’s go and watch,” Nefret suggested. “Jumana, have you ever seen the Father of Curses perform an exorcism? It will be even more entertaining if he works the cat into it.”
Jumana shuddered. “I am afraid of snakes. I hope it does not go into my room.”
I also declined the treat. I am not afraid of snakes, but I see no point in cultivating them.
One of the men had gone to the post office that morning, so there was quite a stack of letters and messages and newspapers. By the time the others came back I had had a nice leisurely time, sorting the mail and reading the more interesting missives.
“Did you find it?” I inquired.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Emerson said. He deposited the cat on the floor, where it resumed its interrupted bath. “I hadn’t supposed we would, and was preparing an exorcism specifically designed for serpents, but the cat fished it out almost at once from behind one of the water jars. A perfectly harmless Clifford’s snake. Ramses took it outside and let it loose.”
“I told you I have been training the Great Cat of Re,” Sennia said triumphantly. “Someday it will catch an even bigger snake and save Ramses’s life at the last second.”
“Pure chance,” said Emerson—but he said it under his breath. “Anything in the post, Peabody?”
“A nice long letter from Evelyn, and one for Nefret from Lia, and one for Ramses from David . . .” I distributed the missives as I spoke.
“What about me?” Sennia demanded.
“Three for you.” They were from the family. They knew she loved getting mail.
“Nothing else?”
I handed Emerson the rest of his letters. “Two telegrams from Cairo. I took the liberty—”
“Yes, of course you did,” Emerson muttered. “Well, what do you think of that? Wingate and General Murray request my presence at my earliest convenience.