The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [167]
I knew Emerson’s little jokes were only his way of concealing his own anxiety in order to lessen mine. I was about to respond in kind when one of the interested watchers cleared his throat.
‘Excuse me, Professor. Would you care to give us a statement now?’
Kevin O’Connell ducked behind Daoud, and Emerson turned, snarling, on The Times.
‘It was somewhat disconcerting,’ said Emerson, ‘to stroll into the bar at the Luxor Hotel and behold my son being plied with brandy by a plump Dutchman in a red fez.’
‘I don’t see what the fez has to do with it,’ I remarked. ‘I would not have recommended brandy to counteract the effects of opium, but it appears to have been effective.’
My eyes kept returning to Ramses. I had put him to bed and washed some of the dirt off him and replaced his filthy robe with a clean one; except for his bruised face, he looked quite normal. All the same, I somehow felt the need to keep looking at him.
Emerson was looking at the bruises too. Most of them might have been made by a large hand clamped over Ramses’ mouth. Most, but not all.
‘Was it Riccetti who struck you, Ramses?’ Emerson asked.
‘No, sir. Signor Riccetti,’ said Ramses critically, ‘is not a well-bred person. He continually interrupted me. We had only been talking for a few minutes when he lost his temper and told the very large man to . . . if I recall correctly, his precise words were to “teach the brat how to hold his tongue.”’
‘So it was the very large man who hit you?’ Emerson smiled at me. ‘You robbed me of the pleasure of returning the favour, Peabody. That was the man you killed, I suppose.’
‘It was Evelyn who killed him, not I.’
Emerson looked askance at his sister-in-law. One hand in Walter’s, the other resting on the head of David, who sat at her feet, she was the image of an English lady of impeccable lineage and good breeding. ‘So you told me,’ Emerson muttered. ‘I still cannot take it in. Well, well, life is full of surprises.’
It had certainly surprised me to find Ramses drinking brandy with a Dutchman at the Luxor bar. He was still at it (and trying, rather incoherently, to persuade the kindly gentleman to let him follow the rescuers) when we stopped to collect him on our way to the dinghy. By the time we landed near the Amelia, the fresh air had restored him, but Emerson insisted on carrying him to his room. I sent Daoud at once to fetch Abdullah, and the rest of us gathered round Ramses’ bed, where we were soon joined by Cyrus Vandergelt. I had left the door open, since Emerson was smoking his pipe and Cyrus had lit one of his favourite cheroots.
Silent and unheralded, robed in white and wreathed in smoke, Abdullah appeared in the doorway like a ghostly apparition. David got slowly to his feet. For a long moment neither moved. Then Abdullah held out his arms, and the boy ran into them.
After that was settled, Abdullah, and Daoud, who had followed him, found places to sit on the floor. The room was very crowded, but there was an empty place in our hearts, and no one wanted to be the first to speak of it.
Ramses cleared his throat. ‘I would like to say two things.’
‘Only two?’ Kevin inquired sotto voce.
Ramses, who had ears like a cat’s, fixed him with a cold stare. ‘First, I am deeply indebted to all of you. You risked your lives to save me.’
‘Och, ’twas nothing,’ Kevin said. ‘I rather enjoyed –’
‘Second,’ said Ramses, ‘I apologize for my carelessness and lack of foresight. You would not have had to take those risks had I behaved more sensibly. It will never happen again.’
‘Ha,’ said his father. ‘Never mind, my boy, it was not your fault. Er – not entirely.’
‘It is my fault that Nefret is now in danger,’ Ramses said. ‘That is a fact, and nothing you can say will alter it. Nothing I can do will redeem my error, but . . .’ He turned the catch in his voice into a cough and went on in the same cool voice, ‘But I would appreciate it if you would start planning how we are going to get her back.’
‘Well said, by Jupiter!’ exclaimed Cyrus. He was sitting on the floor, since there were not enough chairs,