The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [18]
‘That is precisely the point I intended to make,’ said Emerson.
‘Did you get a look at the map, Father?’ Ramses asked.
‘What map? Oh – you mean the paper Saleh was about to show me? I don’t know that it was a map. I had requested – demanded, in fact – specific directions. His reply was, “I thought you would say that.” He then took the paper from his pocket.’
‘Precisely,’ Ramses said. ‘So it must have been a map, or a verbal substitute therefore.’
‘Or a blank sheet of paper,’ Emerson grumbled. ‘Confound it, Ramses, you are as bad as they are. The most logical explanation is that the fellow is a lunatic. He believes in his own fantasy, that he is the reincarnation or the descendant of an ancient Egyptian priest, but when he was forced to produce evidence he went into a fit rather than admit the truth to me or to himself. By this time he is safe at home, wherever that may be, and no doubt he is firmly convinced that he and I were attacked by demons or by an imaginary enemy. That is the way these people think.’
‘Why, Emerson,’ I exclaimed. ‘You have been reading up on psychology.’
‘Bah,’ said Emerson. ‘I have not the time to waste on such nonsense. Unfortunately, I have been acquainted with enough lunatics to understand how their minds work. Now, see here, all of you. The fellow’s story was pure fabrication, but if he believes it he may approach us again, and he may be dangerous. Keep on the alert, at least until we have left Cairo.’
‘And when will that be?’ I inquired.
‘Soon.’ Emerson smiled at me. ‘I have a little surprise for you, Peabody, one I am sure you will like.’
‘When?’ I strove to speak firmly, for his behaviour really was maddening; but it is difficult for me to be firm with Emerson when his keen blue eyes soften and his well-cut lips part in a smile.
‘Tomorrow. I want to get an early start, so we had better go to bed. It has been a tiring day.’
‘Especially for you, my dear Emerson,’ I said, directing a hard stare at Ramses.
‘Father certainly should rest,’ said that young hypocrite, who obviously had no intention of allowing his father to do so. ‘One question, if I may. The ring you mentioned –’
‘Is missing,’ I said. ‘Ramses –’
‘You neglected to put it in a safe place?’
‘I dropped it onto the table when Mr Saleh collapsed, being more concerned with his condition than with a bit of lifeless metal,’ I said, with heavy sarcasm. ‘It was not there when I returned. I trust, Ramses, that your question was not meant to imply criticism of my behaviour?’
‘Certainly not, Mother. I know you bitterly regret your failure to retain that interesting bit of evidence, and I would not for all the world add to –’
‘Go to bed, Ramses.’
Nefret had risen obediently. Eyes lowered, hands clasped, she went to Emerson. ‘Good night, sir.’
He took her golden head in his hands and kissed her on the brow. ‘Good night, my dear. Sleep well.’
‘Good night, Aunt Amelia.’ She came to me and I kissed her as Emerson had done.
Ramses had recently decided that he was now too old for kissing – of his parents, at any rate. Further than that I was not in a position to say. Gravely he shook hands with his father – a process that amused Emerson very much. ‘Good night, Father. Good night, Mother.’
‘Good night, Ramses. Don’t leave your coat on the chair; take it with you and be sure to hang it up.’
Nefret had already slipped away, carrying Bastet with her. Her room opened off the sitting room, as did ours. Ramses occupied a chamber next to ours but not connected with it.
‘How fortunate we are to have such intelligent, obedient children,’ Emerson said fatuously. ‘I told you, Peabody, that Nefret would be no trouble.’
‘Your naïveté constantly astonishes me, Emerson. I don’t know what prompted Ramses to obey an order without arguing, for once in his life, but