The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [36]
“Our luggage appears to have been searched. Theft was not the object; nothing was taken. Tonight we were both attacked. Murder was not the object; we must assume, I think, that abduction of one or both of us was. For what purpose?”
“Some of our old enemies may want to carry us off and watch gloatingly while hideous tortures are inflicted upon us,” I suggested.
“Always cheerful, Peabody,” Emerson said, grinning. “What are you doing? I won’t have any confounded bandages.”
I cut off a bit of sticking plaster. “Out with it, Emerson. You are beating around the bush.”
“Not at all. I am simply admitting that the evidence is inconclusive. It is suggestive, though, don’t you think?”
“I think this time it is your imagination that has got out of hand.” I sat down next to him. “Unless you know something you haven’t told me.”
“I don’t know anything,” Emerson said irritably. “If I did, I would not be dithering like a nervous old spinster. All the same… We covered our tracks as well as we could, Peabody, but there are several weak spots in the fictional fabric we wove. A good hard shove at any one of them would leave a gaping hole of speculation.”
“Are you by any chance referring to the Church of the Saints of the Son of God as a weak spot? Curse it, Emerson, I had to invent a religious sect; if we had claimed Nefret’s kindly foster parents were Baptists or Lutherans or Roman Catholics, the most cursory inquiry would prove no such family existed.”
“Especially if you had claimed they were Roman Catholics,” Emerson said. Seeing my expression, he added hastily, “It was very clever of you, my dear.”
“Don’t patronize me, Emerson! I cannot imagine what has got you into this morbid state of mind. The story I—we— invented is no more unbelievable than many true … I do wish you would stop mumbling under your breath. It is very rude. Speak up!”
“Map,” said Emerson.
“Willoughby Forth’s maps? You heard how Maspero and the others laughed at them the other night—”
“The map,” said Emerson loudly, “that Reginald Forthright showed to half the bloo——blooming officers at Sanam Abu Dom. Everyone from General Rundle to the lowest subaltern knew when he went after his uncle that he had more to go on than vague rumors. He never came back; but WE did, with Forth’s daughter. How long do you suppose it will take some inventive journalist to concoct a thrilling scenario out of those facts? I am only surprised your friend O’Connell hasn’t already done so. His imagination is almost as rampageous as—”
“The implication is insulting and undeserved—especially coming from YOU. I have never heard such… You are muttering again, Emerson. What did you say?”
With a shrug and a smile Emerson turned and answered, not the question but the underlying emotion that had prompted it and my other (I admit) unfair accusations. A soft answer turneth away wrath, as the Scripture says, but Emerson’s methods were even more efficacious.
I had hoped to spend the rest of the week in Cairo enjoying the amenities of the hotel, but Emerson suddenly took it into his head to visit Meidum. I had no objection, though I wished he had given me a little more notice.
We had spent the morning in the sûk; after lunching at the hotel, Emerson left me reading and resting while he went off on some errand of his own. Upon his return he calmly announced we would take the evening train. “So hurry up and get your gear together, Peabody.”
I dropped my copy of Erman’s Àgyptische Grammatik. “What gear? There is no hotel at Rikka.”
Emerson began, “I have a friend—”
“I will not stay with any of your Egyptian friends. They are delightful people, but they have no notion of sanitation.”
“I thought you might feel that way. I have prepared a little surprise for you, Peabody. What has happened to your sense of adventure?”
I was unable to resist the challenge, or Emerson’s smile. As I packed a small bag with changes of clothing and toilet articles, my spirits began to soar. This was like the old days—Emerson and I, alone together in the wilderness!
Once we had