The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [144]
‘Say no more, ma’am,’ Kevin cried, eyes alight with professional fervour.
I said no more.
There were several other inquiries I wanted badly to pursue, but I dared not linger in Luxor; if I did not prepare Emerson for Kevin’s arrival, a certain degree of unpleasantness might ensue.
After climbing over a wall at the back of the hotel, I decided to take a circuitous route back to the riverbank in order to throw off possible pursuers –including The Times and the Mirror. Although the increase in the tourist trade has brought about considerable improvement, parts of the old village of Luxor are unchanged even today. The narrow winding alleys, half blocked with stones and littered with trash and animal refuse, made it a perfect place for hide-and-seek, and I doubted The Times would risk dirtying his polished boots.
After proceeding some distance without observing signs of pursuit, I was about to turn back when something caught my eye, through the ears of a donkey who had decided to stop still in the middle of the lane. The configuration of the stooped body was familiar – but surely Abd el Hamed’s rheumatic-ridden frame was not capable of such lizardlike speed?
Becoming impatient, the donkey driver brought his stick down on the poor animal’s flanks, and I was forced to speak firmly with him. By the time we had settled the matter and the donkey had moved on, Abd el Hamed – if it was he – had disappeared.
I decided to walk on a little farther. The narrow way appeared to end just ahead, but when I reached that point I saw that it turned, abruptly and without apparent reason, into a slightly wider thoroughfare lined with tall old houses. There was no sign of the figure I had seen, and when I had gone another fifty feet I found that this street did end, in a cul-de-sac closed by a high wall.
I decided I had wasted enough time on a pointless investigation, so I turned and retraced my steps. I had got about halfway to the turn in the path when the door of one of the houses opened, and a very large individual stepped out.
He made no threatening move. He simply stood there, staring at me; but he was large enough to bar my path.
The poor fellow must be deficient in intelligence, I thought sympathetically – a child in the body of a (very large) man – for his look held more of apprehension than menace. This proved to be the case. When I raised my parasol and walked towards him he let out a high-pitched cry and fled back into the house. I proceeded on my way and soon found myself at the riverbank and the ferry.
The sun had passed the zenith by the time I reached the tomb. I was relieved to see that despite the delay I was there before Kevin. The luncheon baskets I had ordered had come, but no one was at table except Evelyn and David, their heads together over a book. Evelyn was the only one to whom I had confided my plans. She had not been too pleased about them, and had even tried to dissuade me from ‘running all over the countryside alone,’ as she put it. When she saw me, she rose from her chair with an exclamation of relief. ‘Thank heaven you are safely returned, Amelia. You encountered no difficulty?’
‘None at all, my dear. I told you there was no cause for concern. I suppose the others are still at work?’
‘I tried to persuade Radcliffe to –’
‘Evelyn.’
‘Yes, Amelia?’
‘Emerson despises his given name. Passionately.’
‘I had no idea he felt so strongly about it,’ Evelyn exclaimed. ‘Walter calls him that, and since you use his surname as a term of affection, I thought it would be presumptuous of me to employ it. What shall I call him, then?’
‘Emerson, of course. A number of other people call him that, including those who do not employ it as a term of affection. Just a little hint, my dear! I had better go up and insist they stop for a while, otherwise Emerson will drive them till they drop.’
I have seldom seen such an unkempt group of individuals. All welcomed my interruption except Emerson, but he went when I told him to, moving like an automaton and mumbling to himself. I had to nudge him down