The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [146]
‘There was no time.’ I hesitated, for a well-honed instinct told me it might not be advisable to inform Ramses of certain of my intentions. The sight of an approaching form urging its donkey to a rapid pace convinced me that reticence on one of those intentions would be useless. I had to tell Kevin what I wanted him to do, and Ramses would find out, one way or another.
‘I am going to assign that task to Mr O’Connell,’ I explained.
‘Hmmm.’ Ramses rubbed his prominent chin. ‘Do you think that wise, Mother? Mr O’Connell is certainly adept at pursuing impertinent inquiries, but he has not, in my opinion, the necessary talent for dissimulation.’
‘I believe, Ramses, I have mentioned before that I would prefer you refrained from using the phrase “in my opinion.”’
‘I beg your pardon.’ O’Connell was almost upon us. Ramses lowered his voice. ‘It could be dangerous, Mother.’
I had considered this, of course. I made Kevin sit down and listen to me instead of rushing straightaway to the tomb; and while he finished the rest of the sandwiches I emphasized most strongly the necessity of caution.
Kevin’s eyes gradually widened and he swallowed the wrong way once or twice. However, he is a quick young fellow, and he had participated in other cases of mine. By the time I finished he was grinning broadly.
‘Ah, Mrs Emerson, me dear, you never cease to amaze me. I would say that you are the light of me life if I did not suppose the Professor would take exception to such a remark, though it is intended, I assure you, in the most respectful –’
‘Spare me your Hibernian effusions, Kevin. This is a serious matter and you must take it seriously. Take no chances. Follow no leads that take you into solitary places. In fact, don’t follow those leads at all! Just report to me.’
Kevin cocked his head and looked at me askance, like a bright-eyed bird. ‘So that you can follow them into solitary places? Och, well, if the Professor can’t stop you (and I know he cannot, for I have seen him try and fail) the admonitions of a friend will have no effect. Do take care, though, Mrs E., will you?’
I was rather touched, for I thought he meant it. The softened look did not linger on his face, however; he gave himself a little shake, as if ashamed of his brief display of sentiment.
‘So what do I get in return?’ he asked, with his roguish journalist’s grin.
At the risk of repeating myself I must say (as I will never tire of saying) that only Emerson could have accomplished what he had planned that day. Egyptian workmen are the merriest of fellows, but they are inclined to be nonchalant about doing things in a hurry. Our men, trained by and devoted to Emerson, had developed an esprit de corps and professional pride that would have driven them to extraordinary effort even without the passionate exhortations of their chief. They worked with grim efficiency to install the iron door Howard provided; it had been intended for one of the royal tombs in the Valley, and we were fortunate indeed to have it available. However, the job was not completed when Emerson came running down the stairs to tell me I must escort the others back to the dahabeeyah.
‘Not without you, Emerson,’ I said. ‘You said you would not stay here tonight.’
‘So I did, my dear. But the sun will set shortly and I want you all safely home before dark. I will follow as soon as I have fastened that padlock with my own hands.’
‘You won’t come alone? Promise me, Emerson.’ I caught hold of his shirt.
His firm lips curved in a smile and he took me in his arms. ‘You are particularly persuasive, Peabody, when you cling to me and plead like the timid little woman you are not. But then I suppose if you did it as often as I would like you to, it wouldn’t have the same effect. I promise, my love. Run along now.’
Sir Edward had already returned to Luxor with his precious load of photographic plates and Cyrus had reluctantly torn himself away, promising to return early the following morning. He had asked us to dine that evening, but I declined