The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [163]
“I cannot imagine what is wrong with me,” I exclaimed, pressing my hands to my throbbing head. “Ordinarily I can follow Emerson’s train of thought, even when it is incomprehensible to normal people, but I am at a loss to understand him now. He is up to something—but what?”
I was not talking to myself, but to Cyrus. He had insisted on taking me back to my room immediately after dinner. Since there were no other volunteers I accepted his offer, for I was not feeling quite up to par.
He did not reply at once, being preoccupied with the difficulty of opening the door while both hands were supporting me.
“Allow me,” I said, reaching for the knob.
Cyrus’s efficient steward had tidied the room and left a lamp burning. It was not until Cyrus was about to lower me onto the bed that I saw something that brought a cry to my lips. “Curse it! Someone has been going through my papers!”
Cyrus gazed around the room. Being a man, he saw nothing out of place. “The steward…” he began.
“He would have no excuse for opening the box in which I keep letters and personal documents. See, there is a corner of paper protruding; I hope you do not believe I would be so untidy! Hand me the box, will you please?”
It was a metal container of the sort solicitors employ; I had not locked it, since the only papers it presently contained were the letters I had received and my notes on “The Tale of the Doomed Prince.” The rubbings I had made in the royal tomb and my excavation notes were in another portfolio.
Quickly I sifted through the pile of papers. “There is no doubt about it,” I said grimly. “He did not even bother to replace them in the same order. Either he is criminally inexperienced, or he did not care whether I detected his efforts.”
“Is anything missing?” Cyrus asked.
“Not from here. Er—Cyrus, would you mind turning your back for a moment?”
He gave me a hurt, quizzical look, but at once complied. The rustling of the bedclothes must have driven him wild with curiosity; his shoulders kept twitching. Like the gentleman he was, he remained motionless until I bade him turn around.
“Even more curious,” I said, frowning. “Nothing at all is missing. One would have supposed …”
“That a trained thief would look first under the mattress?” Cyrus inquired, eyebrows raised. “I won’t ask what you’ve got there, Amelia, but you sure could find a better hiding place. Never mind; doesn’t the fact that your treasure, whatever it is, has not been taken suggest that it was only a curious servant who searched your papers?”
“It suggests to me that the searcher’s motive is even more sinister than I could suppose, since I am unable to determine what it is.”
“Oh,” said Cyrus. He scratched his chin.
His lean frame and rough-hewn features, the epitome of masculinity, looked quite incongruous in the pretty, luxurious room. I invited him to sit down, and he perched uncomfortably on the edge of a fragile chair.
“It’s no wonder you’re feeling poorly, my dear,” he said. “Most men would be flat-out after such an experience. I wish you would take it easy.”
I ignored this ridiculous suggestion. “Since idle speculation as to the motives of the searcher is a waste of time, let me return to the subject of Emerson. He is extremely pleased with himself, Cyrus. That is a bad sign. It can only mean that he has discovered a clue to the identity or the whereabouts of our enemy—some fact already known to him, or it would not have prompted his cry of ‘What a fool I am!’ What can it be? If Emerson can think of it, I ought to be able to. He was talking about taking me to Cairo—strangers on the train… medical attention … Of course! What a fool I am!”
The dainty chair creaked ominously as Cyrus shifted his weight. I was too excited to note this evidence of discomfort. “Follow my reasoning, Cyrus,” I cried. “If we had believed that I—or Emerson, who was the intended victim—had been infected, we would have set out for Cairo. Our enemy would have intercepted us. But why would he delay until we were on the train? He would have a better opportunity of ambushing our party between here