The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [112]
“Nonsense, Emerson. It is not guilt but terror that affects him. He is suffering all the torments of cowardice—afraid to go and afraid to stay. I am sadly disappointed in the young man. What a pity that his manly face and figure do not indicate his real character.”
“So that is the way your theories tend, is it?”
“I will say no more at the present time,” I replied. “Let us assume, however, just for the sake of argument, that the missionaries are innocent but stupid. Your attempt at persuasion has failed, as I knew it would; do you intend to take any further steps to save them?”
“I suppose I might talk to Murch or another of the Protestant missionaries, and endeavor to find the home base of the Brothers of Jerusalem. Ezekiel’s superiors ought to know what is going on here. But I have a feeling, Peabody, that other events are about to transpire that will make such a step unnecessary.”
I felt the same. But neither of us knew how imminent were those events, or how dreadful would be their consequences, not only to the missionaries but to ourselves and those we held dear.
iii
Though in one sense our visit had not borne fruit, it had not been entirely without value insofar as our criminal investigations were concerned. I had confirmed one of my suspicions. I wondered if Emerson’s thoughts tended along the same line. He looked rather pleased with himself, so I was afraid they did.
We were not so lucky with our second group of suspects. De Morgan was not in camp, and his men were sprawled in the shade, resting and smoking. Emerson’s roar made them scramble to their feet. The foreman came running to greet us. He hung his head when Emerson began lecturing him, but said that the effendi had given them leave to stop work; it was the time of the midday rest period. The effendi had gone to visit the lady on the dahabeeyah.
“What lady?” I asked.
“You know her, Sitt. The German lady who was here before. She has returned. It is said,” the headman added naively, “that she wishes to give the effendi much money for his work. Will you go there also, to get money from the lady?”
“No,” Emerson said hastily.
“No,” I agreed. “When will M. de Morgan return?”
“Only Allah knows, Sitt. Will you wait for him?”
“Shall we, Emerson?” I asked.
“Hmmm.” Emerson rubbed his chin. “I think I will just have a quick look around. You might wait in the tent, Amelia.”
“But, Emerson, I also want to—”
“You might wait in the tent of M. de Morgan, Peabody.”
“Oh. Oh, yes. That is an excellent idea, Emerson.”
It seemed like an excellent idea then, but it did not prove to be so, except in a negative sense. I discovered that M. de Morgan was a tidy man, which I had already suspected, and that his notes were not well organized, which I had also suspected. However, there was nothing in the notes, or in the packing cases that served as storage cupboards, that should not have been there. I had never considered de Morgan a serious suspect, of course.
I felt a little uncomfortable searching the place, but told myself that all is fair in love, war and detective work. I then put my head in the next tent, which was presumably occupied by Prince Kalenischeff, but it was even more barren of clues. In fact, it was bare. There was no sign of his personal possessions.
I found Emerson squatting by one of M. de Morgan’s tunnels peering into the depths and lecturing the foreman. “Look at this, Peabody,” he cried. “He has hopelessly disturbed the stratification. How the devil the man expects—”
“If you have finished, we had better return,” I said.
“That wall is almost certainly of the Old Kingdom, and he has cut straight through without…What? Oh yes. Let us be off.”
The head man’s dour expression lightened. He had been deprived of most of his rest period; he saw hopes of enjoying a part of it, at least.
“Where is the other gentleman?” I asked.
“The One with the Glass Eye? He is gone, Sitt. He sails with the lady tomorrow.”
“Aha,” said Emerson.
“Aha,” I repeated.