The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [93]
He avoided Ramses’ accusing eyes as he spoke. He had refused to allow David to enter the second tunnel, claiming he was, first, untrained, and, second, not yet fully recovered from his injuries. But I knew, as did Ramses, that Emerson was still suspicious of the boy. He appeared to accept Ramses’ insistence that David could not have been the one who attacked Nefret, but the question of why someone should go to such lengths to incriminate the boy still remained unanswered. It was possible that the incident had been arranged for that purpose, and some people would have been too blinded by prejudice against a stranger and a native to weigh the evidence properly.
‘Well, my curiosity is at fever pitch,’ Walter said. ‘I am ready to proceed whenever you are.’
He had risen to his feet. Emerson studied him with affectionate amusement. ‘Dressed like that?’
Younger and more slightly built than his brother, Walter had led a much more sedentary life since he settled down to raise a family and concentrate on the study of the Egyptian language. The stoop of his shoulders and the relative pallor of his complexion made him appear older than his real age, and his Norfolk jacket, wrinkled though it was by days of travel, would have been more appropriate for a stroll through English meadows than an archaeological dig.
‘Yes, you must certainly change,’ Evelyn said. ‘I instructed George to pack your riding boots, but I am afraid there was nothing in your wardrobe suitable for strenuous activity.’
She did not mean to sound critical, I believe, but her cool voice and the fading of Walter’s smile assured me that relations between them had not measurably improved. I would have to attend to that matter, and I felt sure the arrangements I had made would facilitate the rapprochement I hoped for.
Evelyn was determined to accompany us and declared she would not delay us by changing; her travelling costume was a modish but practical tweed suit with ankle-length skirts, and stout walking shoes. She also refused a carriage. ‘We have got sadly out of condition since those days at Amarna; we must begin our programme of exercise at once or we will never be able to hold up our end.’
‘Then you mean to stay on?’ Emerson, whose arm she had accepted, looked at her questioningly.
She smiled at him, in almost her old way. ‘You have said nothing about the decoration of the tomb, but I know you well, Radcliffe; you are trying to whet my curiosity. Are the paintings as fine as you hoped?’
‘They are unique, my dear Evelyn; they will revolutionize the history of Egyptian art. No decorated royal tomb as early as this has ever been found; if you had asked me, I would have said . . .’
Smiling with satisfaction, I fell back and joined Ramses, who was walking by himself, Nefret and Walter having preceded us.
‘Are you feeling well, Ramses?’
Ramses started out of some dark – to judge by his expression – private thoughts. ‘It is good of you to inquire, Mother. I take the question as an expression of amiable affection rather than a request for information, for you must be aware of the answer, since you have insisted on inspecting the injury daily, though for at least the past two days there has been no need of that particular invasion of my –’
‘For heaven’s sake, Ramses, I was under the impression that you were attempting to correct the unnecessary prolixity and formality of your speech patterns.’
‘I am,’ said Ramses. ‘And I appreciate the reminder. I say, Aunt Evelyn looks better, doesn’t she?’
Physically she was not visibly improved; the change was more subtle. Evidently Ramses’ affection for his aunt had given him unexpected insight. I agreed, and he went on to suggest that since he was fully recovered I should persuade his father to let him investigate the second tunnel and the mysteries that lay beyond. (I quote.)
Our arrival at the ferry put an end to the argument. I settled myself next to Evelyn, since I had not yet had an opportunity to enjoy a comfortable chat with her.
‘Words fail me,’ I said sincerely, ‘when I attempt to