The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [26]
“No, no, you cannot stop there, with conventional courtesy. You are too modest, madame; I will not allow it. We must hear the whole story. How you learned of her plight, what brilliant deductive methods you applied in order to locate her, the perils you faced on the dangerous journey.”
Emerson’s expression had petrified to such an extent his face might have been carved of granite. The others leaned forward, lips parted and eyes aglow. They would be able to “dine out” on this story for the rest of the season, since no one had heard it firsthand.
I had not looked forward to telling the tale to our professional colleagues. Unlike the general public, they had the expert knowledge to find the flaws in our little fiction. However, I had known the moment must come and I had prepared for it with my usual thoroughness.
“You do me too much credit, monsieur. I had no idea such a person as Miss Forth existed. As you must have heard, we went in search of her cousin, who had become lost in the desert after he set out to look for his uncle and aunt. Like many other rash travelers, they had vanished when the Mahdi overran the Sudan.” I paused to take a sip of wine and select my words carefully. Then I resumed, “Since the region has been pacified, there have been rumors that some of these people in fact survived.”
“It was some such idle rumor that sent Mr. Forthright into the desert?” Maspero shook his head. “Rash and foolish.”
“It was Divine Guidance that inspired him,” Sayce said reverently. “And led you to the rescue of this innocent child.”
I could have kicked the kindly old man. A remark like this was bound to break through Emerson’s silence, for he particularly dislikes giving God the credit for his own achievements. Unfortunately I could not kick Emerson, since he was seated across the table from me.
“Divine Guidance inspired him to lose himself in the desert,” said my husband. “Having better sense, we did not rely on—”
Since I could not administer a warning kick on the shin, I had to find another way of stopping him. I knocked over my wineglass. The heavy damask tablecloth absorbed most of the liquid, but a few drops spattered my brand-new frock.
“What did you rely on?” Carter asked eagerly.
“If it was not Divine Guidance, it was pure luck,” I said, frowning at Emerson. “We had the usual adventures. You know the sort of thing, gentlemen—sandstorms, thirst, Bedouin attack. Nothing to speak of. From displaced persons we met along the way we heard of the missionaries—they belong to some strange Protestant sect, like the Brothers of the New Jerusalem * —you remember them, Reverend—and finally reached the remote village where they had miraculously survived fourteen years of war and misery. Mr. and Mrs. Forth had passed on, but their child lived. We were fortunate enough to be able to restore her to her heritage.”
The waiter had supplied a fresh glass of wine. I took a hearty swig, feeling I deserved it.
“So you found no trace of poor Mr. Forthright?” Newberry shook his head sadly. “A pity. I fear his bones are whitening in some remote spot.”
I certainly hoped they were. The young villain had done his best to murder us.
“But did I not hear some story of a map?” Mr. Vincey asked.
My wineglass almost went over again. I managed to get hold of it. It was Maspero who came to the rescue. Laughing heartily, he said, “Willie Forth’s famous maps! We have all heard of them, have we not?”
“Even I,” Carter said, smiling. “And I did not know the gentleman. He is something of a legend in Egypt, though.”
“One of the lunatic fringe always to be found in archaeology,” Newberry said disapprovingly. “So his fantasies led him, not to the city of gold he hoped for, but to a village of miserable mud huts and an early death.”
Maspero took his leave. For the rest of the evening the discussion focused on purely archaeological matters.
After we had returned to our rooms Emerson wrenched off his stiff collar. “Thank heaven that is over. I won’t do it again, Amelia. This suit is as archaic as armor and almost as uncomfortable.