The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [174]
I did not resist as the woman’s hands moved over me, removing my pistol and knife. Resistance would have been futile and undignified. And those were not the weapons I meant to use.
‘Now will you offer me a chair?’ I inquired.
‘Did you recognize me, then? I thought I had taken every possible precaution.’
‘No, I deduced your presence,’ I said. ‘Would you like me to explain?’
She studied me suspiciously. ‘I must admit you have aroused my curiosity, but if this is a ruse to detain me until your friends arrive –’
‘Nothing of the sort. I came alone. Won’t you sit down? In your condition you should not be standing.’
‘That too?’ She laughed, briefly and harshly, but she followed my suggestion, smoothing the black fabric across her abdomen in a gesture that confirmed my diagnosis. ‘How?’
‘Taueret. She was the patroness of childbirth. I didn’t catch that at first,’ I admitted handsomely. ‘I believed the hippopotamus goddess had quite another significance. However, I had deduced that one of the tourists must be the unknown enemy we feared, and when I saw the poor widow lady in Luxor . . . There is a certain way of walking characteristic of a woman who is advanced in pregnancy. Six or seven months, isn’t it? In heaven’s name, Bertha, how could you risk your life and that of the child in this desperate enterprise?’
‘It is kind of you to be concerned,’ she said with a sneer. ‘But I risked nothing. I expected to conclude the enterprise and return to Europe this month, and if I was delayed – well, Egypt is becoming known as a health resort and Dr Willoughby has an excellent reputation. Aren’t you going to ask the name of the father – or have you deduced that as well?’
‘That is not my affair,’ I replied.
‘So long as it is not your husband?’ Another burst of harsh laughter. ‘I would like to make you believe that, but I could not, could I?’
‘No.’
The nurse had slipped out of the room. Now she returned and nodded at Bertha, who acknowledged the nod with one of her own.
‘You did tell the truth; no one has followed you. Speak then, Mrs Emerson. I presume you are anxious to prove how clever you are.’
‘Boasting is a habit in which I never indulge,’ I replied, settling myself more comfortably. ‘I sought you out because I too was curious about a few minor details. I knew that other criminals would attempt to take over Sethos’ lucrative business as soon as the news of his death got out. Who would know of it sooner than you, who was with us last year when he met his end? You saw the opportunity, and, with a quickness and audacity I would admire had it been devoted to a nobler end, decided to take advantage of it. But no woman could assume that dominant role in this male-oriented society – or, if I must be honest, in our own – without male authority to reinforce hers. You have represented yourself as acting for Sethos, haven’t you? The reference I overheard one night, to “the Master,” ought to have made me suspicious. I ought to have expected as well that legends would form around that towering figure, as they formed around other great leaders, such as Charlemagne and Arthur. His superstitious followers considered him a mighty magician; it would not be difficult to convince them that he had survived and would return one day; and he had the ability, I believe, to command the loyalty – even the affection – of his lieutenants. By claiming to be his representative you could win that loyalty for yourself.’
I waited for her to comment. She said nothing, only watched me with unblinking blue eyes and a most curious expression, so I continued.
‘You needed all the help you could get against a man like Riccetti, but you had one advantage he lacked. You knew where the tomb was located. As I reconstruct the story, the tomb was found some ten years ago and certain objects, like the statuette of Tetisheri, were taken from it. After Sethos took over the antiquities trade, the looting of Tetisheri’s tomb stopped. I am not entirely