The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [129]
‘Are you giving drawing lessons?’ I asked, thumbing through the pages in growing amazement.
‘Taking them, rather. What a talent the boy has, Amelia! He knows nothing of the conventions of Western art, of course, but he is quick to learn – and he is giving me a new understanding of Egyptian art. I believe he could help me with the copying.’
‘That will have to wait until we finish clearing the antechamber,’ I said, with a warning glance at Gertrude.
She looked not quite the thing that morning; her eyes were shad-owed and she seemed abstracted. Catching my eye, she cleared her throat and said hesitantly, ‘I have been thinking, Mrs Emerson, about the kind invitation of Mr Vandergelt. I would like to accept it, but I don’t feel it would be proper.’
‘Why not?’ I inquired, selecting a second sandwich.
‘To be the only woman in the house?’
‘Such old-fashioned notions are passé, Gertrude. We are in the twentieth century now. Surely you don’t suspect Mr Vandergelt of improper intentions.’
‘Oh, no! Only . . . I would feel so much more comfortable if Mrs Walter Emerson were there too. Or Nefret?’
Emerson had finished eating. He came up to us in time to hear the last exchange.
‘You will be perfectly safe with Vandergelt, Miss Marmaduke,’ he said. ‘Do you happen to know where I can put my hands on a typewriting machine?’
‘Now that I come to think of it,’ I said, ‘Cyrus probably has one. You know how these Americans are about machinery.’
‘Excellent!’ Emerson gave me an approving smile. ‘That’s settled, then. You can pack your traps this afternoon, Miss Marmaduke, and be in the Castle by evening. I will run by later with my manuscript and tell you what I want done. You may as well go now. I will have one of the men take you over to Luxor. Finished, Peabody? Come along, come along.’
He trotted away, leaving Gertrude gaping. I provided the explanations Emerson had neglected to give – he assumes, incorrectly, that other people think as quickly as he and I do – and sent Gertrude off with Selim.
‘It is a relief to have her out of the way,’ I said to Evelyn. ‘Now we can talk freely.’
A reverberant bellow from Emerson reached our ears. Evelyn laughed. ‘We cannot talk at all, Amelia. I am dying of curiosity to know what you have found, but you had better go before Radcliffe begins swearing.’
The others had already obeyed the summons. As I followed, I saw Evelyn return to the spot where David was sitting.
When Emerson was finally persuaded to stop, the barrier was gone and most of the fallen stone had been removed from the steps. The sight of what lay below – the rock-cut stairs, plunging down at a steep angle, the low, uneven roof – was not alarming or unusual, but I noticed that our workers departed with alacrity as soon as Emerson gave the word. Abdullah must have told them about the mummy. How could I blame the men for dreading such an omen, when it had affected even me?
‘That will suffice,’ Emerson said, wiping his wet forehead with his filthy sleeve. ‘We will need more planks tomorrow, Abdullah, to finish shoring up the roof; I don’t like the looks of it.’
‘It shall be as you say, Emerson. And then you will take . . .’ His hand moved in an odd, shrinking gesture, as if he was reluctant even to indicate the mummy, much less name it.
‘Yes.’ Emerson glanced at me. ‘Go on, Peabody, we will be along shortly.’
Nefret and Ramses had already left the tomb with Walter. I allowed Sir Edward to offer me his hand.
‘You must be very tired,’ he said sympathetically.
‘No more than you, I think.’ He was a far cry from the elegant gentleman I had first met, his clothing sweat-stained and wrinkled, his hair white with dust. From the filth that smeared his face a pair of red-rimmed blue eyes met my eyes with visible amusement.
‘I had believed