Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [49]
She limited her response to an evil look, but Ramses knew exactly what she was thinking. The poor old man’s death couldn’t have come at a more fortuitous time for them and Sethos.
Selim cleared his throat. “I told the men who brought him here that he had run away from you, and that you could help him,” he said.
Nefret, scrubbing her hands with the soap and water Fatima had supplied, turned to stare at him.
“Help him from being dead?” her mother-in-law inquired caustically. “He was ice-cold and stiff, wasn’t he?”
“They believe you can do magic,” said Selim, scratching his beard. “He should have been buried tonight, but they believed me when I said…” He stuck there, unnerved by her sarcasm, and Ramses came to his rescue.
“You did right, Selim. The precise time of death is open to question. By the time the news spreads, people will confuse Fatima’s patient with the old holy man, who will be unquestionably dead. This is the perfect moment for our guest to reappear in a new identity.”
“That is what I thought,” Selim declared.
“Let’s have a little chat with—er—him,” said Emerson, heading for the door. Over his shoulder he added, “Ramses, fetch the whiskey.”
When our guests arrived for breakfast, we introduced them to the latest member of the staff. Sethos had reverted to his Anthony Bissinghurst role. Ramses had supplied him with a dashing black mustache and dye to turn his pale face a healthy tan. He had also supplied him with clothes, for they were almost of a size. He was proving to be a cursed inconvenience in every way; we would have to order new garments for Ramses, since his wardrobe had not been extensive to begin with.
A slow grin spread across Cyrus’s face when he recognized Bissinghurst. Bertie and Jumana were also acquainted with him and with his true identity, and had been sworn to secrecy; poor Bertie, not the cleverest of individuals, hardly spoke a word, so fearful was he of saying the wrong thing. His silence caused no remark, since he hardly ever got a word in when the rest of us were conversing.
Jumana’s dark eyes shone with pleasure when “Tony” bent over her hand. She had obviously been attracted to him when they last met and, as was his habit, he had been at his most dashing and courtly. Perhaps she preferred older men. If that was the case, Bertie was doubly disadvantaged. No one could have called the poor boy dashing.
Cyrus managed to have a word alone with me as we prepared to leave the house. Concern had replaced his amusement.
“What’s up, Amelia? That fellow never appears unless there is trouble brewing.”
“I will tell you about it another time,” I replied, wondering what the devil I could tell him.
“It better not be Carter’s tomb he’s after,” Cyrus muttered. “Emerson will skin him alive if he tries any tricks.”
We went first to Deir el Bahri, where the Metropolitan Museum crew was working, and then made the circuit of other temples before turning toward the Valley of the Kings. It was of necessity a cursory tour, but by the time we reached the entrance to the Valley, anticipation had mounted. The persuasive air of suppressed excitement (I am sensitive to such things) surprised me. Clearly the word of a great discovery had spread—not, as yet, to the general public, but among those who had a professional interest in such matters.
I glanced at Sethos, who was walking beside me. He looked tired but alert. A new and ugly suspicion had taken root, seeded by Cyrus’s remark. What evidence had we of the truth of Sethos’s story? Only a mysterious document, which could not be deciphered, and his own word. The attacks on him and on us might have been made by rivals in the antiquities game. If he had returned to his old profession, Carter’s tomb would present…interesting possibilities.
The tomb itself was something of an anticlimax. There was nothing to see except a pile of rubble that filled the stairwell and concealed the steps. After a glance Suzanne raised her shoulders in an elegant Gallic shrug and joined the tourists entering the tomb of Ramses VI. Bertie trailed after