The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [115]
“Are you suggesting we give up?”
“Not at all. I’m perfectly happy to wallow in luxury for as long as it takes.”
They took the tram to Cairo next morning. None of the attendants remembered seeing the Pethericks.
Emerson had been quite serious about enlisting his brother’s assistance on the dig, though to be accurate it was more a matter of conscription than enlistment.
“I could stay here and supervise Katchenovsky,” Sethos offered, in a last-ditch effort. “And entertain the kiddies.”
“You do too much of the latter,” Emerson retorted. “David John gave me a lecture the other day on the best methods of forging ushebtis. As for Karnovsky, you know perfectly well he won’t be coming. Ramses sent a letter to the hotel for him explaining the change of plan. Now get ready to go.”
“I’ll help Fatima pack a luncheon basket,” said Sethos, and vanished before Emerson could object.
Cyrus greeted Anthony Bissinghurst cordially. “I can sure use you,” he declared. “Lidman’s walked out on me.”
“Good Gad,” I exclaimed. “How did he elude you?”
“Walked out, as I said. Right after breakfast this morning, while we were getting our gear together. The gateman had no reason to stop him, not in broad daylight when he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“But without even a word to you…” I began.
“Oh, he left me a letter. Apologies, excuses, and so on. He said he couldn’t handle the work, didn’t want to take advantage of my kindness, needed time to recover.”
“Did he say where he was going?” I persisted.
“Nope. None of my business, was it?”
“Hmmm,” said Emerson, stroking his chin.
“I rather think it is our business,” Sethos said. “We can’t let our suspects go scampering off in all directions, now can we? I’ll get on his trail.”
It might have been only an excuse to get out of sifting the fill—the most tedious and onerous of duties—but I didn’t think so. Neither did Emerson. He nodded. “Question the boatmen first. If Lidman has nothing to hide he will have returned to his hotel.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Sethos said. “I might not have thought of that.”
Emerson ground his teeth. Sethos gave us a cheery wave and rode off.
After a cursory glance into the tomb, where the men were still clearing the corridor, Emerson said, “May I borrow Bertie this morning?”
“I guess so,” Cyrus said. “What for?”
“I want to have a look at the other tomb in this area. Number 25.”
“What for?” Cyrus repeated.
“For the sake of thoroughness,” said Emerson loftily and unhelpfully.
Bertie asked the same question and got a slightly more informative answer. “One of the tombs—number 25—is probably late Eighteenth Dynasty. Some people believe it was meant to be Akhenaton’s, but it was never finished because he moved to Amarna and constructed his official tomb there.”
“Isn’t Tomb 25 the one Belzoni found in 1817?” Bertie asked.
Emerson looked at him in surprise, and then clapped him on the back. “Well done, my boy. You’ve been reading up on the area.”
Bertie directed a longing glance at Jumana, hard at work on the fill, and accepted his fate. “I heard it from Lidman, as a matter of fact. He spouted facts and figures by the yard to anybody who’d listen to him. What do you want me to do, sir?”
“I want an accurate plan. The entrance was blocked by a stone wall when Belzoni found it,” Emerson explained, as we walked on. “As was the bastard’s habit, he used a battering ram to destroy the wall, then left the place wide open. There were four coffined mummies inside—”
“Probably later intrusions,” I interrupted.
“Thank you, Peabody,” said Emerson with excessive courtesy. “I am willing to accept your familiarity with the literature.”
“Belzoni was an entertaining writer, even if his methods were questionable,” I said. “He didn’t bother removing the coffins. I doubt there will be much left of them.”
“There may be enough remaining to prove the mummies were not Eighteenth Dynasty,” Emerson retorted. “And that the tomb was never finished or occupied at that period.”
“Which will eliminate it as a possible source of the statue,” I concluded.