The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [30]
Realizing somewhat belatedly that a derogatory comment about ladies in trousers might imply criticism of present company, he had hastily added, ‘Now in your case, Mrs Emerson, it is quite different. Your Turkish – er – trousers are quite . . . They are not so . . .’
‘Form-fitting?’
The Reverend blushed. I could not resist teasing him just a little, so I went on gaily, ‘But you have not yet seen my new working costume, Mr Sayce. My Turkish – er – trousers were too voluminous for convenience; I have replaced them with trousers less generously cut, but of course I wear a long jacket reaching below – if you will excuse me for mentioning them – the hips. I will just give Mrs Petrie some friendly hints next time I meet her. Where are they working this year?’
The Reverend gratefully availed himself of this change of subject.
A number of our friends had been unable to attend the party. M. Maspero, who had (amid general rejoicing) returned to his post as head of the Antiquities Department, was in Luxor with Howard Carter, the new Inspector of Antiquities for Upper Egypt. It was a splendid advancement for Howard, and at my suggestion we all raised a glass to congratulate him and Mr Quibell, who held the corresponding post in Lower Egypt.
I had placed Mr Newberry between myself and Emerson. Since Nefret and I were the only ladies present, the proper balance of male and female was impossible, and I might well have ignored this rule anyhow since I was extremely curious to discover why Emerson had been so keen on the sort of social meeting he usually protested with teeth bared. I might as well have spared myself the trouble. Emerson spoke not a word that gave me the slightest clue, nor would he discuss the subject later when we were alone. I was so vexed with him I thought seriously of refusing to participate in the activities he initiated in order to distract me. However, since I knew distraction was not Emerson’s sole reason for initiating those activities, it would have been childish and petty-minded of me to object.
We went on board the dahabeeyah next morning. It had been a singularly uneventful three days, with no word from the Hippopotamus Man, as Nefret called him, or the mysterious Mr Shelmadine. There had not even been a body pulled from the Nile. So I was informed, at least, by the gentleman at police headquarters, which I visited one afternoon when Emerson thought I was paying calls. (In fact I was paying calls – on the police. I deplore prevarication and only resort to it when circumstances demand it.)
My aversion to prevarication compels me to add that Ali the suffragi had not been pulled from the Nile either, for the simple reason that Ali had never been in it. He had returned to his duties the day after I had observed his absence, claiming he had been ill. He appeared to be quite touched by my interest in his health (though that did not prevent him from requesting additional baksheesh). The information he provided was not worth additional baksheesh (though that did not prevent me from giving it, on general principles). He had not seen our visitor leave, nor had he observed anything unusual that night. He had been busy running errands and attending to the needs of the other guests in his charge.
It was all very discouraging. I could only hope that something interesting would develop soon.
However, the pleasure of being once more on board ship, and the innumerable duties that awaited me – hanging curtains, arranging stores, discussing menus with the cook, instructing the steward in the proper method of brewing tea – kept me busy and occupied. So did the little fits of temper and general grumpiness that prevailed among the crewmen and servants. The month-long fast of Ramadan had begun; eating and drinking are forbidden between sunrise and sunset, and abstinence, as I have often observed, has a deleterious effect on the disposition. The intemperate