Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [153]
I stepped away from the door. There was a little scuffle outside; then Emerson appeared, holding his brother by the collar. He shoved him into the room. “Here is the perpetrator,” he said.
Margaret stared. “You?” she exclaimed.
Seeing no way out (for Emerson blocked the doorway) Sethos smiled in an ingratiating manner. “My intentions—” he began.
“Damn your intentions!” Margaret shouted. “Please don’t repeat that fantastic tale of being pursued by enemies. I didn’t believe it when Amelia told it me, and I don’t believe it now. You didn’t abduct me to keep me safe!”
“No,” Sethos said. “I did it…I did it because…”
For once his glib tongue failed him. Looking from him to Margaret, I said, “He had planned to stage a daring rescue, Margaret.”
Margaret’s face was a study. “Rescue? From that decrepit old man and his octogenarian wife?”
“Oh, I’d have arranged it more dramatically,” Sethos said, perking up. The signs were encouraging; she hadn’t thrown anything at him or called him names.
Neither of them seemed to know what to say next.
“Get your things together, Margaret,” I said.
She picked up her evening bag, shot a scornful look at the embroidered robes, and strode out of the room without looking at Sethos.
Matters were progressing nicely on that front. I only wished I could deal as easily with the others.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
Safely surrounded by bright lights and mobs of people, Ramses collapsed onto the steps of the hotel and fought for breath. At last he managed to get out a few words.
“Are you all right?”
David nodded. “You?”
“Yes. I wonder…why they didn’t…fire at us.”
“I don’t know.” David wiped his sweating face with his sleeve. “D’you want something to drink?”
“No time.” Ramses got to his feet. “We’ve got to inform the police.”
“I thought you were anxious to get back to Nefret.”
“I am, but they’ll get—”
“Away,” David finished. “It can’t be helped. By the time we get to the zabtiyeh and convince the man on duty we have a legitimate complaint, and round up enough men, they’ll have cleared out.”
His reasoning was irrefutable. The police wouldn’t be in any hurry to act; they might insist on getting authority from Aziz, who would have to be dragged out of bed. It wouldn’t take the gang long to gather their scanty belongings and decamp.
“What’s the time?” Ramses asked.
“Half after midnight. Let’s go.”
Not many people crossed the river at that hour, but there were a number of boatman about, hoping to entice tourists into a moonlight sail or pick up a late-leaving resident of the west bank. They headed toward Ramses and David, quarrelling over who had the right to this fare; but the first to reach them, pushing frailer bodies aside, was Daoud’s son Sabir. He caught David in a crushing grip.
“Here you are, you are safe, alhamdullilah!”
David freed himself, laughing, and Sabir fell on Ramses. Ramses was made aware of bruises he hadn’t noticed till then. Though Sabir was not as tall as his father, he had Daoud’s large frame, and arms toughened by operating oars and sails.
“Yes, God be praised,” he said, once he had detached himself from Sabir’s fond embrace. “Were you looking for us?”
“Yes, yes, they sent me to wait. Come quickly. Nur Misur weeps and the Father of Curses swears, and the Sitt Hakim is putting bullets in her gun, and—”
“I hate to think what else,” Ramses said. “We must hurry, then.”
Sabir’s was one of the few vessels that boasted an outboard motor. They got across in record time, and found Selim waiting with horses. He had seen them approaching, and his shouts had brought others of the men. They had to endure more loving embraces and cries of praise to Allah—with which Ramses was inclined to agree. Call it God, call it luck, call it Fate, he was perfectly willing to thank something.
“How did you know to expect us?” he asked Selim, as Risha nuzzled his shoulder.
“We did not know. We hoped,” Selim said simply. “When the family found you had not gone to Gurneh, they sent Sabir and me to ask the boatmen whether anyone had taken you across. We have been waiting.”
Selim, who loved