The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [143]
I reassured him and made my announcement. Relief and pleasure succeeded one another on his expressive countenance, to be replaced by a look of poignant envy. ‘Can I have a look?’ he asked hopefully. ‘I’ll go back with you this minute if you say it’s all right. Just let me stop by the house for my horse; I walked over this morning.’
‘I have a little errand to do before I return,’ I replied. ‘But you are welcome to pay Emerson a visit as soon as you like. I am sure he will be delighted to see you.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ said Cyrus, grinning. ‘But you couldn’t keep me away with a club.’ Turning to his assistant, he remarked, ‘Sorry, my boy, but you will have to wait. Professor Emerson is not keen on company, and I would rather not try his temper.’
‘I would rather not do that either,’ said Mr Amherst, with considerable feeling. ‘But sir, you will ask him –’
‘Why, sure. He may want our assistance. If so, we’ll close this pitiful job down and join him. I will let you know this evening. Mrs Amelia, will you walk back with me to the Castle, or are you in a hurry?’
‘I will be glad to accompany you, Cyrus. There is something I would like to tell you.’
Excitement had rendered Cyrus unsteady on his feet. As my tale unfolded, he kept stumbling over things. ‘Holy Jehoshaphat, Mrs Amelia,’ he cried when I finished. ‘Is this true?’
‘You don’t suspect me of prevarication, I hope? Or of imagining things?’
‘You, imagining things?’ Smiling, Cyrus stroked his goatee. Then he sobered. ‘I can’t rightly accuse you of making up stories when I’ve seen with my own eyes the kinds of peculiar adventures you get yourself into. I can’t for the life of me figger out how you do it.’
‘There is, I believe, something called a nose for news, Cyrus. Perhaps I have a nose for crime! And Emerson has –’
‘A way of getting folks riled up. All right, ma’am, you know you can count on Cyrus Vandergelt through thick and thin, with a shovel or a six-shooter. You just tell me what I can do to help.’
‘I am counting on you, Cyrus, and I do need your help. I want you to watch Miss Marmaduke. You can trust your servants? Excellent. Any messages she sends must be brought to you, any visitors noted, all her actions observed.’
Cyrus stumbled again. ‘Are you serious? That silly young woman? She’s the most harmless-looking creature I ever saw.’
I described Gertrude’s reaction to my announcement, and her hasty departure from the house. Cyrus tugged at his goatee and looked grave. ‘I told her the carriage was at her disposal. No reason why she shouldn’t decide to go shopping or sightseeing, I guess, but . . . All right, I’ll do as you say.’
We parted at the Castle; Cyrus, eager as a boy, went running off to the stable while I remounted and rode to the ferry, where I left my horse. Once on the East Bank I kept a sharp eye out for Miss Marmaduke, but saw no sign of her; she had been a good hour ahead of me, and might by now have completed her errand – whatever it was. After telegraphing to M. Maspero, I proceeded, still on the qui vive, to the Luxor Hotel.
I had to detach Kevin from The Times and the Mirror, who were helping him celebrate his recovery by consuming copious quantities of beer in the bar of the hotel. Regrettably, I was forced to resort to underhanded means in order to do this, for they paid no attention to my hints that they should go away. Looking around in hope of inspiration, I saw the widow lady in black enter the lobby, leaning on the arm of her nurse.
Indicating the two women, I inquired of The Times in a thrilling whisper, ‘Is it true that the Duchess is suspected of having murdered her husband?’
Kevin, who knew me well, did not follow his fellow journalists when they rushed after their new victim.
‘What are you up to now, Mrs E?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t time to explain, Kevin. Excuse yourself to your friends, retire to your room, creep away unobserved, and come across to the tomb. If both or either of them succeed in following you,