The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [85]
Exhilarated, amused, and exasperated, I got behind him and gave him a shove. “If I make a rude advance you can scream for help. When you see what I have to show you, you will understand why I prefer not to remove it from this room. Sit down.”
Eyeing the canopied bed as if it might extend ruffled tentacles to grasp him, Emerson circled around it and lowered himself cautiously into a chair. He stiffened when I went to the bed, but relaxed a little after I had taken the box out from under the mattress and handed it to him.
The sight of the contents brought a soft whistle to his lips, but he did not comment until after he had examined both scepters thoroughly; and when he raised his eyes to my face they glittered with the old blue fire of archaeological fever. “If they are fakes they are the finest I have ever seen, and you and Vandergelt have gone to considerable trouble to deceive me.”
“They are genuine. We are not deceiving you. Not even Cyrus has seen these, Emerson. He knows no more about the matter than does our unknown enemy, who put together the same clues Cyrus—”
“Unknown? Not to me.”
“What?” I cried. “You recognized him?”
“Of course. He had grown a beard and dyed it and his hair, and he looked older… which,” Emerson mused, “is only to be expected, since he was older. No doubt about it, though. Well, well. This explains why he was so bad-mannered. I could not imagine why he was put out with me, since I had been one of the few to defend him. What a sad world it is, when greed proves stronger than gratitude and the lust for gold overcomes friendship—”
“Men are so naive,” I exclaimed. “The commonest reaction to favors rendered is resentment, not gratitude. He probably detests you even more than he does those who condemned him. So it was Mr. Vincey. I thought I recognized his voice.”
“You know him?”
“Yes. That is his cat.” I indicated Anubis, who was curled up on the sofa. “He asked us—curse his insolence!—to care for the animal while he went to Damascus.”
“He certainly was not in Damascus,” Emerson said. “Very well, let us get down to business instead of wandering all around the subject the way you women are inclined to do. Vincey is on the loose and it would be extremely careless of us to assume he has given up his little project. He has all the more reason to be vexed with me now, after I got away from him so neatly. I could… What’s the matter? Something caught in your throat? Have a glass of water and don’t distract me.”
It did not seem an opportune moment to remind him that his escape had been neither neat nor due to his efforts. Choking on my indignation, I remained silent. Emerson went on thoughtfully, “I could track him down, I suppose, but I will be damned if I allow him to interfere with my professional activities any more than he already has. If he wants me, he will come after me. Yes, that will be best. I can get on with my work, and if he turns up, I’ll settle the fellow.”
I was meditating how best to respond to this complacent statement when I heard someone approaching. The steps were those of Cyrus; the rapidity of their pace made my scalp prickle with apprehension. He was almost running, and as he neared my door he began to call out.
“Amelia! Are you there?”
“Just a moment,” I called, snatching the box from Emerson and hastening to restore it to its hiding place. “What is it, Cyrus? What has happened?”
“Big trouble, I opine. We have found a stowaway!”
As soon as I had the box concealed, I admitted Cyrus. In my excitement I had overlooked the fact that Emerson’s presence might cause some embarrassment—particularly to Emerson—until I saw Cyrus’s jaw drop and color flood his lean cheeks. Emerson had gone equally red in the face, but he decided to brazen it out.
“You are interrupting a professional discussion,” he growled. “What’s all the fuss about?”
“A stowaway,” I reminded him. “Who? Where?”
“Here,” Cyrus said.
One of the sailors pushed her into the room. One had to assume she was female from her dress, though the worn black robes completely covered her shape and the dusty veil