The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [61]
Sir Edward had remained standing, hat in hand. Emerson waved him to a chair. ‘That motorcar of yours –’ he began.
‘Not mine, sir; it is the property of a friend who sometimes allows me to put it through its paces. We poor relations –’
‘Yes, yes,’ Emerson broke in. ‘What would be the chances of getting such a vehicle to Luxor, do you think?’
‘Good Gad, Emerson!’ I exclaimed. ‘What a ridiculous idea! Even if you could get it here, what would you do with it?’
Sir Edward glanced at me. He appeared to be trying to compose an answer that would offend neither party. ‘One would need special tyres for desert travel, of course. But they are sturdy vehicles; last year a Stanley Steamer made it up to the top of Mount Washington.’
‘Named after a member of your family, perhaps?’ I inquired with a pardonable degree of sarcasm.
‘So I understand,’ was the smooth reply. ‘The first American President was descended from –’
‘Returning to the subject of the motorcar,’ Emerson said.
‘Emerson,’ I said rather sharply. ‘You are forgetting your manners. Miss Marmaduke has not yet been introduced to the gentleman, I believe.’
Both acknowledged the introductions with a conspicuous lack of interest. Highly suspicious – or was it? She was not the sort of lady to attract the interest of an impecunious younger son. Sir Edward, however, was the sort of gentleman to engage the interest of any female. I decided that only Gertrude’s reaction had been suspicious.
‘So you were at Drah Abu’l Naga with Mr Newberry,’ I said, hoping to distract Emerson from the motorcar.
I succeeded, for the moment. ‘Were you present when the fatal accident occurred?’ Emerson asked.
‘Accident?’ Sir Edward looked as bewildered as I felt. It was the first time I had heard of such a thing. ‘There was no serious accident, Professor. We were singularly fortunate in that respect.’
‘One of your workmen fell off the cliff to his death,’ said Emerson. ‘I would call that a fatal accident.’
‘Oh, that.’ The young man’s face cleared. ‘To be sure. Such things occur, however. No, I believe, though the exact date escapes me, that I was not present that day. Is it true, sir, that you are planning to work there this year?’
‘How did you hear of that?’ Emerson asked.
‘From Mr Newberry,’ was the prompt, easy reply. ‘He was most kind to me last year, and I called on him before I left Cairo. I am looking for employment, you see, and I had hoped he would recommend me.’
Emerson opened his mouth. I said hastily, ‘How long will you remain in Luxor, Sir Edward?’
‘All winter, if I am fortunate enough to find a position. We poor relations must work for a living.’
This time I was not able to forestall Emerson, for his mouth had remained open. ‘I am planning to work at Drah Abu’l Naga, yes. If you will dine with us tomorrow evening on our dahabeeyah, we may have something to discuss.’
Sir Edward expressed effusive delight and I glared at Emerson. ‘We must be going, Emerson,’ I said. ‘Unless you intend to waste the entire morning. You too, Sir Edward, should be up and doing.’
‘But my dear Mrs Emerson, I rose at dawn.’ He did not bother to conceal his amusement. ‘I have already made the rounds of the antika shops; his lordship is a collector, as you know, and I had hoped to find something that would interest him. However, the best of the dealers was closed – indefinitely, I was told.’
‘What!’ Emerson jumped to his feet, overturning his chair. ‘Is it Ali Murad of whom you speak?’
‘Why, yes.’
‘Damnation!’ Emerson shouted. The poor flowers trembled and cast a shower of purple petals over us. ‘Come, Peabody. Hurry!’
‘You will excuse us, Sir Edward,’ I said.
‘I hope it was nothing I said.’
‘Well, yes, it was, but you could not have anticipated his response,’ I admitted.
Sir Edward gallantly assisted Nefret to rise from her chair. She was careful not to look at him, not even when he plucked