Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [107]
The question was addressed to Cyrus. Frowning thoughtfully, he said, “I had business dealings with him some years ago, before I retired. Railroads and coal, those were his interests. He hadn’t been knighted then.”
“His Majesty honored him in reward for his services to England during the war,” Suzanne said proudly.
“That’s right,” said Cyrus. “Well, my dear, perhaps he will join us here for our Christmas celebration.” He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “And if he has any influence with Lord Carnarvon…”
“He would be delighted to exert it on your behalf,” Suzanne said.
“I say,” Bertie exclaimed. “That’s kind of you, Miss Malraux.”
“Please.” She turned her wide-eyed gaze upon him. “I have asked you to call me by my first name.”
Jumana and Sennia exchanged pointed glances.
Emerson seldom sulks (he prefers more direct methods of expressing his feelings). He would have resented Suzanne’s offer to include him, but he was equally resentful at not being asked. Loudly declaring he had heard enough about bloo—blooming Tutankhamon, he began describing to David our work in the West Valley.
“Perhaps you can give Miss Malraux a hand with her paintings of the scenes in Ay’s tomb,” he said, with a malignant look at the young Frenchwoman. “She appears to be having some difficulties.”
“It is difficult working under such conditions,” David said, with a friendly smile at Suzanne.
“But there are few artists with your talent,” Suzanne replied, lowering her eyes and blushing prettily. “Never could I claim to equal it, Mr. Todros. I would be humbly grateful for any advice.”
“Tomorrow morning,” said Emerson. “Six A.M.”
When Emerson speaks, the gods obey, much less mere mortals. We were all up before dawn and ready to go at the hour Emerson had decreed. We were able to get out of the house without Sennia; wearied by her first excursion into society, followed by a long chat with Gargery, who wanted to hear all about it, she slept late. Fatima had declared her intention of beginning preparations for her holiday baking, so I hoped that would keep the children and Sennia occupied until we returned. I had plans for the day.
The only one missing from Cyrus’s crew was Suzanne. “I told her she could meet her granddad’s train,” Cyrus explained.
“He arrives today?” I asked in surprise. “I wonder why she didn’t mention before last night that he was coming.”
“Didn’t want to make us feel obliged to entertain him, I suppose,” Cyrus said.
“Who gives a curse?” Emerson demanded. “We are wasting time. David, I want to show you the areas we have investigated. Perhaps you will spot something I missed.”
He strode off, with the others following like ducklings after their mother.
I waited until the luncheon baskets had been opened before announcing my plans. I could tell they came as no surprise to Emerson. His protests were somewhat half-hearted.
“You needn’t come,” I said, selecting a cucumber sandwich. “But David hasn’t even seen the famous tomb. By tomorrow the word of its being reopened will have spread and everyone in Luxor will be there.”
“May I go, sir?” Jumana asked.
“Sure,” said Cyrus. “I’d kind of like to have a look myself.”
“Oh, go on, the lot of you,” Emerson shouted. “You’re no use anyhow. Selim and I can manage quite well without you.”
Selim, who had hoped to join us, looked crestfallen. I gave him a wink and a pat on the shoulder.
Ordinarily the tourists left the Valley around midday, returning to their hotels across the river or to the Cook’s rest house near Deir el Bahri. I delayed until later in the afternoon in the hope of avoiding the crowds. We made quite a large party in ourselves, for in the end everyone, with the exception of Emerson, had declared their intention of accompanying me, and he had grumpily given Selim permission. He rode with us as far as the end of the path from the West Valley and galloped away with his nose in the air. I suspected he would not go far.
Lounging near the entrance was Kevin O’Connell. “I expected you before this, ma’am,” he said, removing his