The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [101]
Not while we are on the job, I told myself, with an affectionate glance at Emerson’s resolute profile and stalwart frame. I dismissed my forebodings and addressed Walter.
‘Loath though I am to cast a shadow over this joyful meeting, Walter, I must warn you and Evelyn of what has happened. It is a rather long story –’
Smiling, Walter interrupted me. ‘I daresay yours would not be as lengthy as was Ramses’ version. No doubt, dear sister, your interpretation of those events differs from his, but you need not repeat the facts themselves.’
‘Amelia’s interpretations generally differ from everybody else’s,’ Emerson said. ‘In the beginning, I admit, we were the subject of certain – er – attentions. All of them were designed to prevent us from locating the tomb. Now that we have found it there is no reason for those attentions to continue.’
He took out his pipe, with the air of a man who has said the last word and does not intend to permit discussion.
Ramses cleared his throat. ‘With respect, Father, that hypothesis fails to explain certain of the – er – attentions. The most curious of them was the visit of Mr Shelmadine and his subsequent disappearance. He must have known his hints of ancient cults and reincarnation would enrage rather than persuade you, and if the ring was not genuine, he went to a great deal of expense and trouble to have it made.’
Evelyn gave me a questioning glance. I shook my head. This was not the moment to mention our recent discovery. I intended to save it for the final stroke that would demolish Emerson’s scepticism and force him to admit I had been right all along.
‘He was a madman,’ Emerson said shortly. ‘Egyptology inspires lunatic theories.’
‘True,’ Walter agreed. ‘But it is something of a coincidence, isn’t it, that the fellow should turn up with that particular lunatic theory shortly after you had decided to search for that particular tomb?’
Emerson was beginning to lose his temper. Quickened breathing prevented him from speaking in time to prevent me from anticipating him.
‘It is the other way round, Walter,’ I explained. ‘Emerson did intend to work at the Seventeenth Dynasty cemetery, but it was not until after Mr Shelmadine’s visit that he began to fit the other clues into place. Now, Emerson, don’t deny it; you said it yourself. “Someone has found Tetisheri’s tomb. It is the only hypothesis that accounts for all this agitated activity.”’
‘No sensible hypothesis accounts for Shelmadine,’ Emerson said furiously. ‘His visit was a coincidence.’
‘And his death was another coincidence?’ I said. ‘The body has been identified, Emerson.’
Emerson drew a long, shaken breath. ‘And how do you know that, Amelia? Confound it, have you been in communication with the Cairo police? How did you –’
‘As you know, my dear, Sir Eldon Gorst is an old friend. He responded to my telegram a few days ago. Shelmadine was identified by . . .’
I paused. I do not often tease my dear Emerson, but this time the temptation was irresistible.
‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t be so cursed theatrical, Amelia. I suppose it was the ring.’
‘No, my dear. I was about to say, by a female individual who recognized certain – er – physical characteristics. The ring was not on Mr Shelmadine’s person. It is now in the possession of Miss Marmaduke.’
The theatrical profession has always interested me. I had employed certain theatrical techniques in building up to my announcement – delay, misdirection and finally the use of what is, I believe, termed a ‘throw-it-away’ line – and the effect was all I could have desired. The entire company was struck dumb and motionless with astonishment. Even Evelyn looked surprised, not at the news, but at my method of delivering it, and, perhaps, at its effect on Emerson. The blood rushed into his face, and