The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [107]
I led him to the upper deck. The others soon joined us, except for Emerson, who was lurking below with the intention of intercepting Sir Edward and Miss Marmaduke. Darkness had fallen by the time they appeared. As he had been ordered, Sir Edward wore well-cut tweeds and a regimental tie. Gertrude’s hair was coming down – obviously she had neglected to cover it with a scarf while on the river, as I had suggested – and she kept poking at it. She looked even more apprehensive than usual. I wondered what Emerson had said to her.
The sight of a female brought O’Connell to his feet, Hibernian flattery bubbling from his lips. Watching him escort Gertrude to a chair, I hoped he was not going to fancy himself attracted to her. She lacked the personal charms that fascinate a man, but Kevin always likes to be in love with someone. I suppose it is because he is Irish.
Conscious of Emerson’s warning, we tried to avoid the subject of the tomb. However, there was no keeping away from it, since it was the major interest of all present. Sir Edward was the first to refer to it – or perhaps the culprit was Nefret. She had not had much opportunity to practise her wiles on him, since he had taken pains to avoid her; that evening, with O’Connell cooing compliments at Miss Marmaduke, and Emerson arguing with Walter about the Berlin Dictionary, and Evelyn occupied with Ramses, he had apparently felt it was safe to join her on the settee. In a lull in the general conversation I heard her say, ‘Then you believe your new camera can do the job?’
Kevin’s head turned like that of a dog snapping at a bone. Sir Edward raised an inquiring eyebrow and looked at Emerson. A shrug and a nod gave him permission to reply, and, returning his attention to Nefret, he said, ‘It will require a long exposure, but I have had good results from the new film Kodak developed last year.’
‘Then you’ll be photographing the interior of the tomb tomorrow?’ Kevin inquired guilelessly.
Emerson glowered at him. ‘Yes. I’ll give you that much, O’Connell, since you will probably find out anyhow, but don’t ask to have a look for yourself. No amateur is entering that tomb until it has been cleared.’
‘So long as you don’t let the Mirror in ahead of me,’ Kevin murmured. ‘Would you care to speculate, Professor, as to what you will find? Is the royal lady resting quiet in her coffin, bedecked with jewels and magical amulets?’
Mahmud’s arrival, to announce that dinner was ready in the saloon, saved Emerson for the moment, but Kevin was not to be so easily distracted. Throughout the meal he peppered Emerson with questions. I believe it had not occurred to Emerson until then that his impulsive reference to an ‘undisturbed royal tomb’ would arouse such intense interest. The London newspapers reporting the discovery had not yet reached us, and Emerson’s eyebrows wriggled alarmingly as Kevin summarized the stories that had appeared in print.
‘Headlines in The Times?’ Emerson repeated in a faltering voice.
‘You ought to have expected it,’ I remarked. ‘And you owe it to yourself to correct the – er – misapprehensions of the press. In justice to yourself, my dear.’
‘Hmph,’ said Emerson, giving me a very thoughtful look. There was no need for me to elaborate; Emerson is sometimes hasty, but he is not stupid. Exaggerated claims that proved to be unfounded would damage his scholarly reputation, and we now had reason to suspect the tomb had been disturbed. What an anticlimax it would be if the mummy were found stripped of its jewels!
So Kevin got more information than he had expected, though less than he had hoped. Emerson firmly refused to speculate and refused to go into detail. Still, it was enough to give Kevin a ‘scoop,’ as I believe it is called, and he made no objection when Emerson announced that it was time for our guests to leave. (I have often pointed out the rudeness of this, without the slightest effect.)
‘May I beg a ride back to Luxor with me new friends?’ Kevin inquired, beaming at Miss