The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [121]
“The Professor will ignore him anyhow,” David said with a grin. “Who’s that one from?”
“Sylvia. The woman couldn’t take a hint if you hit her over the head with it. And this one is from Annabelle, Sylvia’s chief rival in the gossip game.”
He crumpled the letters and shoved them in his pocket. “One of your former lady friends, wasn’t she?” David asked.
“Good God, no. I spent hours hiding behind various objects in order to avoid her.”
The suffragi on duty in the corridor hissed in surprise at the sight of Ramses. “What happened to you, Brother of Demons?”
“I fell.” Ramses inserted his key in the door. “Was anyone looking for me while I was out, Ahmed?”
“No, Brother of Demons. Shall I take your clothes to be cleaned and mended?”
A look in the shaving mirror told Ramses the man’s concern and the criticism of the people on the terrace had been justified. There was a rip at the shoulder of his coat, where the sleeve had been pulled loose by David’s desperate grip, and since he had been in too much of a hurry to shave that morning, his beard darkened his cheeks. He took the letters from his pocket and realized there was one he hadn’t read.
“Carter,” he said, after perusing it. “You were right. Our presence is known. Here, hand these clothes out the door to Ahmed, will you?”
A quick bath and a shave and the only other suit he had brought with him restored him to respectability. When David was ready they walked down the stairs, between the statues of the voluptuous Nubian maidens that were among the famed sights of Shepheard’s. The maidens had been photographed, fondled, and even carried off by visitors.
“What did Carter have to say?” David asked.
“Wants to see us. Anytime. Didn’t say why.”
“He must want to see you very badly,” David said. Sitting in the lobby, a cigarette in his mouth and his nose in a book, was Howard Carter.
“They told me you’d come in a short time ago,” he explained, after shaking hands with both of them. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
Ramses had known Carter since his early days, when he was working as an artist and draftsman, and later, when he was appointed inspector for Upper Egypt, and later than that, after he had lost the post and had been reduced to dealing in antiquities and selling his paintings to tourists. Now that Lord Carnarvon was his patron, he looked more prosperous. His face was fuller and his mustache less exuberant. There were new lines around his mouth, though. Carnarvon was said to be a generous employer and amiable man, but having one’s livelihood depend on the whim of a dilettante must not be conducive to peace of mind. Carter had no private means and not much formal education. Many of his peers considered him brash and ill-mannered. Emerson despised him for continuing to deal in antiquities, but Ramses couldn’t blame the man for hanging on to a sure source of income.
“We’re on our way to the Khan and Bassam’s,” he explained. “Care to join us?”
“ ’Fraid I can’t this evening. I have an engagement with Lord and Lady Dinwhistle. I’ve time for a drink or two, if that would suit you.”
They made their way to the Long Bar. Since the War the rules about admitting women had been relaxed—Nefret had been one of the first to ignore them—and the tables were all taken. They found a relatively quiet corner where they could stand and talk. Ramses waited for Carter to start the conversation. He thought he knew where it would end.
“We’ve been hearing some tall tales about you people,” Carter began. “Murder, robbery, assault—”
“Same old thing,” David said.
Carter gave a bark of laughter. “Quite. Quite. Any discoveries in KV55?”
“Not so far. We didn’t expect anything, really. It was good of you to allow us to excavate the place.”
Carter inserted a cigarette into an ornate holder. “I couldn’t refuse Professor Emerson such a small favor, I owe him too much. Good to me—very—your parents—in past years. Not that I was really worried about illegal excavations in the Valley,” he added.
In other words, Ramses thought to himself, your father can get away with more than most people,