The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [89]
‘Have another sandwich, Gertrude, while Professor Emerson tells us about the tomb. We have not yet had an opportunity to discuss the day’s work.’
As Emerson was the first to admit, there was not much progress to report. ‘I have decided to take Ramses’ advice and widen the lower passage,’ he explained. ‘The danger of falling rock is too great. We can’t use explosives, so it will take some little time.’
Ramses expressed his pleasure at hearing this and his intention of being ‘back on the job,’ as he put it, by the time work on the tomb actually began. ‘But,’ he continued, without giving anyone else time to comment, ‘it is the statue you mentioned that interests me, Father. Did you mean to imply by your recent questions that it was not in the tomb when you and Mother first – er – dropped in on the thieves? It may be that you failed to observe it, being preoccupied at the time with one another’s safety. The alternative, as I hardly need point out –’
‘You are talking too much, Ramses,’ Nefret interrupted. ‘I am sure it is not good for you in your condition.’
‘Quite right,’ I said, while Ramses was trying to think how to respond to this disingenuous remark. ‘The statue was not there at first. I assure you I could not have missed seeing it. And you hardly need point out the alternative. Though how it could have been brought there, with our men on guard, I do not know. Unless . . .’
‘I beg,’ said Emerson, teeth clenched on the stem of his pipe, ‘that you will refrain from saying it, Amelia.’
‘. . . unless there is another way into the tomb. A secret passage.’
‘Nonsense, Amelia.’
‘How can you be sure? We have not cleared the antechamber. The entrance could be hidden under the debris.’
‘Because . . . Oh, but why try to introduce reason into a conversation like this one? The cursed thing came from Hamed’s shop, but why it was put there and how it was put there is beyond definition at this time. I refuse to discuss it any further. What’s this, the latest post?’ Emerson flung the pipe into the receptacle, scattering ashes over the remaining sandwiches, and reached for the papers and envelopes on a nearby bench. ‘Anything of interest?’
‘Not in my messages, no. Further than that I cannot say, since I do not open letters addressed to other people.’
A somewhat uncomfortable silence followed this gentle reproof. Miss Marmaduke began talking about the fine weather and the beauty of the sunset. I responded automatically – the subject was not one that required the full concentration of my intelligence – and watched Emerson as he ripped open the envelope that had caught my attention earlier. It was the only one that promised the possibility of some interesting development, for it had been delivered by hand and the writing was unfamiliar. Would he share it with me? Would he admit me into his confidence?
He had no intention of doing so. His only visible reaction was a quiver of that handsomely indented chin and a movement of the hand holding the paper. He was about to put it into his pocket. I therefore reached out and took it from him.
After reading the message I said to the steward, ‘Tell the cook the Professor and I will not be here for dinner.’
Emerson said, to no one in particular, ‘Hell and damnation!’
As Daoud pushed off from the shore, Emerson said grumpily, ‘At least the daily interruption begins earlier than usual. I may be able to get a full night’s sleep for once.’
‘What do you suppose he wants?’ I asked, adjusting a lacy scarf over my hair.
‘Amelia, we have been over this at least a dozen times since you read that note. What is the sense of speculating? We will learn the answer from Riccetti himself soon enough.’
‘Now, Emerson, you know that is not true. He will tell us a pack of lies in order to mislead us. Misdirection is the reason for his invitation to us.’
I had been included in that invitation. The realization of that quite removed any guilt I may have felt about reading someone else’s letter – for if I had not done so, Emerson would not have told me what it said.
Emerson was still sulking