Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [156]
Margaret was wearing one of my day dresses, a nice little frock of eau de Nil, whose lace trim and skillful cut became her well. After she had removed her horrible dress I told Fatima to cut it up for dusters.
“May I go to the hotel?” she asked meekly.
“No,” I said. “We will pack your things and bring them back with us. I want you to attend our council of war. You,” I went on, fixing Sethos with a stern look, “will come with us. And come back with us.”
“Yes, Amelia,” Sethos said meekly.
Ordinarily his ready acquiescence and that of Margaret would have struck me as highly suspicious. I thought they would both do as they were told, but I meant to keep a close eye on my brother-in-law. Just in case.
We had no difficulty in finding the suspected, or cursed, house. It was one of a number of expensive villas that had been built during the extravagance of the prewar period. Rather than waste time, I had dispatched a message to Inspector Aziz, requesting that he meet us there. We were a sufficient force in ourselves, even supposing we encountered opposition. It did not seem likely that we would. Like several others, this house had a derelict air, as if it had been long unoccupied. The flower beds were overgrown and untended, the shuttered windows broken.
Emerson marched up the steps and kicked the door open. A strong smell of mold and decay met us—but that was all. A quick search made it clear that the birds had indeed flown, leaving behind rotting food, a few discarded garments, and certain other evidences of their disinterest in elementary sanitation. Having made certain that there was no danger of an ambush, we divided forces for a more detailed search, examining every scrap of paper and piece of cloth. We were engaged in this when Inspector Aziz arrived. His hail brought us all to the entrance hall, where he stood with folded arms and a critical expression.
“Your message was not very informative, Mrs. Emerson,” he said sternly. “Why did you break into this house?”
“We are not guilty of breaking and entering, only of entering,” said Emerson. “The door was not locked.”
“Don’t tease, Emerson,” I said.
Ramses and David had come here searching for Margaret, I explained, and went on to tell the rest of it. As he listened, Aziz’s expression changed from sternness to one of gloomy resignation.
“I have become accustomed to your habits, Mrs. Emerson, so I accept the fact that I won’t get any more out of you. You ought to have reported this immediately.”
“That would have meant getting you out of bed in the middle of the night, Inspector. And for no purpose. The miscreants took to their heels as soon as Ramses and David made good their escape.”
“Who were they?” Aziz demanded.
“That is what we are endeavoring to ascertain. Do you happen to know who owns this house?”
“No, but I will find out. Is he responsible for this?”
“I doubt it,” Ramses said. “The house was empty, so they simply moved in.”
We left Aziz to carry out his own search. He was a conscientious man, and a good man; I regretted having to deceive him, but it was absolutely necessary.
We stopped by the hotel long enough to pack a suitcase for Margaret. The men left this to me, except for Margaret’s notes and papers, which Emerson gathered into a bundle. I intended to have a close look at them before I handed them over.
When we reached the house we found Sennia and Gargery on the veranda. Both were bristling with indignation. Sennia ran to Ramses and threw her arms round him.
“Fatima told me! Why wasn’t I told before? I would have gone and found you.”
“That is dear of you,” Ramses said, hugging her back. “But you couldn’t have helped, Sennia. No one knew where we were.”
“I would have taken the Great Cat of Re to follow your scent,” said Sennia.
I looked at the cat, who was sprawled across the settee sound asleep. He was taking up as much room as he could, his plumy tail extended and his fat paws outstretched. Sennia’s conviction, that one day he would prove to be Ramses’s salvation,