The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [75]
‘Emerson, you know you have done the best you could, so stop worrying about it.’
I persuaded him to get a few hours’ sleep. I hoped this would put him in a better mood, because I had arranged a little dinner party, of the sort Emerson particularly dislikes. Since it had been necessary to invite Sir Edward, I decided I might as well include several of our professional colleagues, who would be clamouring for news of the new tomb.
A bath and a change of clothing quite refreshed me, and I went to see what the others were doing. Gertrude was in the saloon transcribing the notes Emerson had made that morning. She looked tired, and would have liked to chat, but I excused myself. Her forlorn look made me feel a little guilty. Had I been wrong about her? If she was an enemy she was not a very efficient one. Thus far I could accuse her of nothing except making eyes at my husband, and there was nothing unusual in that.
I found Ramses and Nefret with David. All three of them were sitting on the floor around a tray of food – collected, clearly, by Ramses, since it consisted of a stomach-churning combination of Egyptian and English dishes. Upon seeing me Ramses got to his feet, as I had taught him. David promptly followed suit, and I exclaimed, ‘You should not be out of bed, much less standing. Let me see that foot.’
A thick green paste covered the injured toe. When I asked, where he had got the horrid stuff, David gestured at the window. Daoud, who had been watching with an avuncular smile, hastily withdrew his head. I called him back. Interrogation produced the information that the ‘salve’ was an old family remedy consisting primarily of various herbs and mutton fat.
‘Primarily?’ I repeated suspiciously.
‘It appears to have done no harm, Mother,’ said Ramses. ‘Though doubtless it was your treatment that has proved so efficacious. As you can see, the swelling has subsided and he can stand without pain.’ He went on without drawing breath. ‘Will you not join us? We are telling David about the tomb and having a council of war.’
More flattered than I cared to demonstrate, I accepted the biscuit and glass of sugarcane syrup he offered me and took a chair.
‘What makes you suppose a council of war is necessary?’ I inquired.
‘Surely thatisobvious,’ said Ramses. ‘We have yet to account for the inexplicable behaviour of the individual who visited your rooms in Cairo, for the equally strange visit of Signor Riccetti, and for the even more peculiar affair of the second set of tomb robbers.’
‘Only they weren’t,’ Nefret said. ‘If they had gone there to rob the tomb, they would not have behaved so nicely to you and the Professor. I think they went there to protect you.’
‘Why the dev – Why should they do that?’ I demanded.
Ramses crossed his legs and looked at me seriously. Years of experience had given me some clues as to how to read that enigmatic countenance of his, and there was a glint in his eyes that made me extremely uneasy.
‘Did not Signor Riccetti mention two different groups of individuals – those who would aid you and those who would interfere with you?’
Relief swamped me. Ramses was not supposed to know that, but the information was less uncomfortable than certain other facts he was not supposed to know. ‘I suppose you wormed it out of your father,’ I said resignedly.
‘Father informed me of the matter,’ Ramses corrected. ‘In his opinion the information had become relevant in view of what occurred last night. Those events would seem to substantiate a statement that initially appeared –’
‘Ramses, do you have to talk that way?’ Nefret demanded. ‘David doesn’t understand half the words you have used and your long-winded, pompous speech patterns are cursed aggravating.’
I couldn’t have put it better myself. Ramses blinked – an extravagant