The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [39]
He spoke English for the sake of Nefret and Gertrude, but the formal, sonorous speech patterns were those of classical Arabic. They had the effect he intended; solemn nods and exclamations of ‘Mâhshallâh,’ and ‘Yâ salâm!’ followed.
‘There is a lost tomb in the hills of Drah Abu’l Naga,’ Emerson went on. ‘The tomb of a great queen. I have had a quest laid upon me by those whose names must not be named; I have taken a mighty oath to find that tomb and save it. My brothers, you know there are those who would prevent me if they knew my intent; there are those who would . . . oh, curse it.’
His pipe had gone out. Just in time, too; he had become carried away by his own eloquence and was in danger of overdoing the melodrama. I caught the eye of Abdullah, whose face was preternaturally grave but whose twinkling orbs gave him away, and I said, ‘The Father of Curses speaks well, my friends, don’t you agree? I am sure that you, who are his brothers, will swear an equally mighty oath to aid and protect him.’
The others were not as critical as Abdullah; emphatic assurances, in Arabic and English, followed, and tears of emotion sparkled in Selim’s long lashes. Emerson looked at me reproachfully, for he does enjoy making speeches, but since I had summed up the general situation so neatly, there was nothing more for him to add.
‘So,’ said Abdullah. ‘When will you begin hiring?’
‘Not for another day or two. I will let you know.’
Shortly thereafter our men took their departure. Ramses and Nefret accompanied them as far as the gangplank, and I sorted through the mail Abdullah had delivered.
‘I am afraid there is nothing for you, Miss Marmaduke,’ I remarked.
She took the hint. Rising, she said, ‘The messages I await will not come by post. You will excuse me?’
‘She has been reading too much poetry,’ I said, after she had gone. ‘I had hoped to find something from Evelyn, but there is only this letter from Walter. It is directed to you, Emerson.’
The envelope contained a single sheet of paper, which Emerson handed over to me as soon as he had scanned it. ‘Not very informative,’ he said. ‘He is well, she is well, the children are well.’
‘She is not well or he would have elaborated on her improvement,’ I murmured. ‘Is there anything else of . . . What is that?’
‘As you see, it is a clipping from a newspaper.’ Emerson’s heavy brows drew together as he read. I held out my hand and Emerson passed over the clipping with a muttered ‘Oh, curse it.’
It was a short paragraph from the English-language newspaper in Cairo, dated a few days after our departure, and it described the discovery of a body that had been drawn from the Nile. It was that of a man of middle age, five feet ten inches in height, but precise identification had not yet been made, since no personal possessions had been found on the body and the face was unrecognizable. The police requested the assistance of the public in reporting anyone of that general description who might be missing from his accustomed haunts.
‘Mr Shelmadine!’ I cried. ‘We must communicate with Cairo at once, Emerson!’
‘If you go near the telegraph office I will have you locked up,’ said Emerson with a snap of his teeth. ‘Control your outrageous imagination, Peabody. The description might match half the male population of Egypt.’
‘He did not return to his house, Emerson; Riccetti told us so. It would take approximately three days for gases to form in the body and bring it to the surface.’
A furious gesture from Emerson warned me of Nefret’s return. ‘Gases?’ she repeated. ‘What are you talking about, Aunt Amelia?’
‘Nothing,’ said Emerson, grimacing at me.
‘One of the principles of criminal investigation,’ I explained, knowing that if I did not tell her she would go and ask Ramses, and that he would be more than happy to show off.
Nefret seated herself and crossed her slim ankles. ‘What sort of gases, Aunt Amelia? I have observed the phenomenon but never understood its