The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [76]
‘But how was it done?’ I asked.
‘You were the one who thought of it, Aunt Amelia,’ Nefret said. ‘The killer was on the balcony. He shot Mr Shelmadine with a poison dart.’
‘Good Gad,’ I exclaimed. ‘Naturally I had thought of that, Nefret, but it really does seem . . . well . . . just a bit theatrical, doesn’t it?’
‘It is the only explanation,’ Nefret insisted. ‘The murderer may have bribed the suffragi to let him in, or, what is more likely, crossed to your balcony from another near at hand. It was dark, and our rooms were high above the street; no one would have seen him. Then, after he struck the Professor, he or a confederate sent the suffragi off on an errand and carried the body into a nearby room – the same one from which he had reached your balcony. They could get rid of the body later, in a trunk or box.’
‘Hmph,’ I said. ‘What do you say, Ramses?’
‘It is a reasonable hypothesis – er – idea,’ said Ramses. ‘So we have been discussing who these mysterious individuals – er – people – might be. Who would have a motive – er – reason – to prevent us from excavating – er – clearing – er . . .’
He had taken Nefret’s criticism to heart, but his attempts to simplify his vocabulary were not very successful. Nefret smiled patronizingly at him. ‘Allow me, Ramses. Obviously these people want to keep us away from the tomb so they can steal its contents. That means they are or have been connected with the trade in illegal antiquities. Riccetti is certainly one of them. Then there is the man called Sethos . . . What is the matter, Aunt Amelia?’
‘A crumb caught in my throat,’ I said. ‘How do you know of Sethos, Nefret?’
‘From Ramses, of course. He warned me not to mention the fellow to you or the Professor, but I cannot understand why,’ Nefret said with seeming innocence. ‘He sounds a fascinating man. I am sorry I never encountered him.’
‘I am very glad you did not,’ I muttered. ‘It has been five years since we heard from Sethos, and as Ramses knows, his last message informed us he was leaving Egypt for good.’
‘And we have no reason to doubt that assurance,’ said Ramses. It was a statement, not a question, but his cool black eyes focused on my face as if awaiting a response.
‘None,’ I said firmly. ‘Sethos cannot be involved in this business.’
‘Then,’ said Ramses, after a long, nerve-racking pause, ‘his empire is leaderless. We may be facing some of his former subordinates – er – lieutenants – curse it, the people who worked for him.’ He looked rather piteously at David, who nodded vigorously.
Ramses went on with more assurance. ‘Sethos had many assistants, of all nationalities and both sexes. Since most are known to us, it behooves us to ask . . .’
He broke off, looking self-conscious. Nefret said calmly, ‘Is Miss Marmaduke a spy for a group who want to rob the tomb?’
‘She is not the only possibility,’ said Ramses, with a malevolent glance at his ‘sister.’ ‘Sir Edward is a highly suspicious character.’
‘I can think of at least two reasons why Sir Edward might wish to improve his acquaintance with us,’ Nefret murmured. ‘Neither involves a criminal motive.’
David had been following the dialogue – for such it had become – with open mouthed interest, his head turning from one speaker to the other. How much he understood I could not say, but I was under no illusion as to where the discussion was heading.
Ramses said, ‘Hmph,’ as Emerson would have done when faced with incontrovertible female logic, and Nefret smiled at him.
‘I agree, dear brother, that we should take nothing for granted.
There are two of us and two suspects. I leave it to you to ingratiate yourself with Miss Marmaduke and worm her secrets out of her. Sir Edward will be my responsibility. I quite look forwards to the challenge.’
Emerson fussed and fumed when I told him of the dinner party. Not only did