The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [104]
Emerson pushed his cup away and put his elbows on the table. ‘The tomb is unquestionably that of Tetisheri. But the paintings are . . . in short, they are not what I had expected. The answers to the questions that have arisen in my mind may come to light when we finish clearing the entrance corridor.’
He paused to fill his pipe, and Ramses took advantage of his temporary silence to remark, ‘So little remains of the decoration of that corridor that I suspect it was deliberately destroyed.’
‘What?’ Walter exclaimed. ‘How did you arrive at that conclusion?’
‘A futile question, my dear Walter,’ I said, with a sigh. ‘Or rather, please don’t ask him, because he will tell you, at considerable length. I suppose the paintings were on plaster, which has become detached from the rock to which it was applied, and fallen to the floor of the corridor. The inscribed fragments the men found yesterday were part of the decoration. Confound it, Emerson, I ought to be accustomed to your infuriating reticence, but why have you been so close-mouthed about this? You must have come across other fragments earlier, or you would not have been sifting that rubble so carefully.’
‘Habit, I suppose,’ Emerson replied, looking a trifle shamefaced. ‘The truth is, I found only a few scraps, none larger than ten centimetres across. Most of it has probably been ground to powder, but I am hoping to find more pieces at floor level.’
‘So that is why you have been working so slowly.’ Admiration overcame Walter’s annoyance. ‘Any other excavator would have missed that evidence, Radcliffe.’
‘It may not be important evidence,’ Emerson admitted. ‘But one never knows.’ Taking out his watch he glanced at it and sprang to his feet with a grunt of annoyance. ‘If you have all finished interrogating me, perhaps you will allow me to get at it.’
Moving at a brisk trot, I was able to catch him up before he reached the gangplank. ‘Are there any other little secrets you have kept from me?’ I inquired.
He glanced at me from under lowering brows. ‘Oh, you have become interested in the tomb, have you? I beg you won’t give over playing detective on my account; far be it from me to distract you from the pleasure of searching people’s rooms and engaging in pointless speculation about spies and criminal gangs.’
I said, ‘It is odd, isn’t it, that we have seen nothing more of Signor Riccetti? No doubt he is lurking in concealment, directing his –’
My breath went out in an explosive gasp as Emerson threw his arms around me and squeezed. ‘You are hopeless, Peabody! Speculate all you like, search every room in Luxor – only promise your long-suffering spouse that you will refrain from taking foolish chances. No following suspects into dark alleyways, no breaking into Riccetti’s secret headquarters –’
‘Oh, has he a secret headquarters? In Luxor?’
Trying to frown and trying not to laugh, Emerson silenced me with an emphatic kiss. ‘Promise, Peabody.’
‘Emerson, the others are watching. The children –’
‘Promise!’
‘Certainly, Emerson.’
Calmly and decisively Emerson kissed me again. ‘Nothing wrong with setting a good example,’ he remarked, glancing at our audience, which included not only our family but Selim and Yussuf. He then lifted me onto my horse and mounted his.
If he had bothered to look at Nefret he might have had second thoughts about setting examples. It was not so much the curve of her lips as a certain dreamy expression in her eyes.
It took us three more days to finish clearing the entrance corridor. Emerson’s extraordinary patience was rewarded; on the floor next to the walls, lying where they had fallen over three millennia ago, were approximately fifty fragments of painted relief. It was necessary to plot their location precisely, since that might give a clue as to their original positions on the wall. One by one the fragments, some as small as a fingernail, were lifted and placed into padded, labelled trays. Accustomed as I was to the delicacy of Emerson’s touch, I marvelled at how deftly those big brown hands of his handled the fragile scraps.
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