The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [145]
‘Come and have luncheon and I will tell you everything.’
I told him about Kevin first, since I anticipated that bit of news would be the most difficult for him to assimilate fully (and calmly). He received it better than I had expected.
‘Offering him an exclusive is the best method of controlling him,’ he admitted. ‘And he will keep the other confounded journalists away. Where is he?’
‘Eluding the other confounded journalists, I suppose,’ I replied. I had other reasons for wanting Kevin, but there was no point in mentioning them to Emerson. He would only have fussed.
We joined the others, who were sitting and lying about in various poses of exhaustion. Ramses was the only one who looked much as usual. He was filthy dirty, but that was normal, and his black curls only coiled tighter when they were wet. Nefret had unfastened the top two buttons of her blouse and pushed the sleeves up above the elbow. I could hardly scold her for wishing to be as comfortable as was possible under adverse conditions, but the effect was demoralizing; Cyrus kept glancing in her direction, and Sir Edward, gracefully reclining at her feet, could hardly keep his eyes off her.
Emerson reached for a sandwich. ‘Have you spoken with Carter?’ he demanded of me.
‘Confound it, I knew I had forgotten something. What with one thing and another –’
‘What things?’ Emerson demanded, his eyes narrowing.
I never allow Emerson to get me on the defensive. ‘Good heavens, my dear, I have already been to the Valley and to Luxor and back this morning. I will go looking for Howard as soon as we finish luncheon. It may take me a while to locate him.’
‘He is probably digging out that shaft near the causeway,’ Emerson grunted. ‘Waste of time. There is nothing of interest there. I need one of those gates of his. Tell him to fetch it here at once, I want it installed today, before I leave.’
‘Ah,’ I said, without commenting upon Emerson’s autocratic demands and unreasonable expectations, ‘you are planning to return to the Amelia tonight?’
It really was pitiful to behold the struggle that raged in the heart and mind of my husband. Had there been no other distractions he would have camped on the spot until the tomb was cleared, no matter how long it took. But he was as aware as I of those distractions, and affection took precedence over even archaeological fever.
‘I am,’ he said shortly. ‘So get at it, Peabody.’
Walter cleared his throat. ‘Er – Radcliffe – you have already spoken with Mr Carter. He came here earlier this morning, don’t you remember?’
‘What?’ Emerson stared at him. ‘Oh. Oh, yes, so he did. I was trying to get that cursed grid laid out without damaging the . . . Never mind, Peabody. Sir Edward, what are you lounging around for? I want to finish the photography.’
There was no holding him, and I did not try to do so. Walter and Nefret accompanied the pair. Ramses remained where he was, cross-legged on the rug next to David. I turned an inquiring eye upon him.
‘There is no need for any of us to be there, really,’ he said. ‘Except for Nefret and’ – a slight spasm that would have been imperceptible to any eyes but mine crossed his face – ‘and Sir Edward.’
‘You were only looking on this morning?’ I asked. Looking on was not Ramses’ forte.
‘The fascination of the place and the procedures are difficult to . . .’ Ramses glanced at David, caught himself and started again. ‘It is very interesting. I learn from watching Father. But just now I felt it would be more useful for me to talk with you, Mother, about how your detectival (oh, curse it!) about what you have found out about our enemies.’
‘I was not pursuing detectival . . .’ I could have sworn my pause brought a gleam of amusement to David’s black eyes. I resumed somewhat stiffly, ‘All I did this morning was call on Mr Vandergelt and Mr O’Connell and send a telegram to M. Maspero.’
‘Ah,’ said