The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [106]
‘Hmph,’ said Emerson, in a milder tone. ‘Well, well, I suppose you may as well sit down, O’Connell. But don’t think –’
‘Oh, no, sir, I never think.’ Recovering from his embarrassment at being discovered to have the instincts of a gentleman, Kevin gave Emerson a cheeky grin. ‘I would not have intruded on you, only I happened to run into Mrs Wilson in Cairo, and when she told me she had some parcels for you I offered to bring them, since I was leaving that evening; and once here, it was impossible for me to tear myself away without –’
‘Yes, quite,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Kevin. We must excuse ourselves for a while, but stay and dine, unless you have another engagement. No? I rather thought you would not. Take a chair. I will send Mahmud with refreshments.’
I wanted to get back to Kevin as quickly as possible, so instead of bathing I contented myself with a quick splash in the basin and a change of clothing. Following me at the washstand, Emerson grumbled, ‘You needn’t have invited him to dinner, Amelia. We cannot talk freely with a cursed journalist present.’
‘Sir Edward and Miss Marmaduke are joining us, and we dare not speak freely while they are present anyhow. It is time we decided how to deal with the press, Emerson. You must have known that your public references to a royal tomb would attract considerable interest.’
Stripped to the waist and dripping, Emerson reached for a towel. ‘I have already dealt with members of the press. I mean to go on in the same way.’
‘You cannot intimidate the English and European newspapers as you did that poor young man from Cairo.’
‘I never laid a finger on the fellow, Peabody.’
‘You roared at him, Emerson.’
‘I have never heard that there is any law against – er – talking in a loud voice.’ Emerson dropped the towel onto the floor and gave me a critical examination. ‘Are you proposing to appear in public in a negligee, Peabody? That garment –’
‘Is my new tea gown, Emerson. Aren’t you going to dress for dinner? Sir Edward will be in evening kit.’
‘No, he won’t. I told him I never wanted to see him in that suit again.’ Emerson reached for a clean shirt. ‘I must warn him and Miss Marmaduke not to volunteer any information about our work. That applies to you as well, Amelia. I will do the talking. Now get to the saloon and watch O’Connell. He is probably searching my desk.’
Emerson was clearly in one of his masterful moods. I always allow him to enjoy them unless I feel it is necessary to set him straight, which, on this occasion, it was not. So I said submissively, ‘Yes, my dear,’ and was rewarded by a pleased smile.
Kevin did not even have the decency to pretend he had not been snooping. Rising from my desk as I entered the saloon, he said garrulously, ‘What a fetching frock, Mrs E. As always, you are a vision of loveliness. Is this your latest exercise in translating Egyptian? If you will permit me to say so, it lacks the charm of some of your earlier efforts. What is the point of the hippopotamus pool?’
‘You will have to wait for the story to be published,’ I said.
Kevin cocked his head and gave me his leprechaun grin and an even more exaggerated brogue. ‘Och, must I? As one who has known and admired you for many years, I have not failed to note that several of your earlier translations had a peculiar relevance to the activities you were pursuing at the time. Your highly developed instincts for crime seem well-nigh supernatural. What are you up to this time, Mrs E.? And what do hippos have to do with it?’
‘Really, Kevin, you cannot suppose I am going to succumb to your flagrant flattery and unsubtle questions. I am not up to anything, and there are no longer any hippopotami in Egypt.’
Expert at dissimulation that I am, my response gave no hint of the disquiet his seemingly casual question had aroused. What he had said was true. On at least two earlier occasions, the fairy tale I had been translating at the time had proved uncannily relevant to the events that transpired.