Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [94]
Kevin’s hands were twitching. He knew better than to reach for his notebook, however.
“If you print anything about that, we will deny it,” I said, thanking heaven that Kevin was unaware of the most damaging part of that incident. For Carter and Carnarvon to have entered the antechamber in secret was reprehensible but might be overlooked. For them to have broken into the sealed burial chamber and then concealed their action was a serious breach of their firman.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kevin said gloomily. “I’ve got the material for a scoop to end all scoops, and you won’t let me run with it. And there’s Minton, hanging round the Valley, poking her nose into every corner and interviewing every ragged guard.”
“Have you spoken with her?” I asked.
“I greeted her as a gentleman should,” said Kevin, his nostrils flaring. “Would you believe it, Mrs. E.? She tried to get information out of me! We fenced for a while, and when I asked her point-blank if she had found out anything of interest, she grinned in that offensive way of hers and told me I would find out when her next dispatch was published.”
Emerson began coughing violently. “Take a sip of tea, my dear,” I said.
Would Margaret have the audacity to write about her “kidnapping” and “imprisonment,” as she would term them? Such a story would cause a sensation, given our reputation with the newspaper-reading public. It would also infuriate Kevin, who wouldn’t at all have minded being “kidnapped” if he could have got an exclusive out of it.
And, depending on how Margaret explained the reason for her detention, such a story might attract the attention of the very individuals from whom we had attempted to protect her. Would she really risk her husband’s safety for the sake of a story?
Catching the eye of Sethos, I saw that he was thinking the same thing—and that he had arrived at the same conclusion.
Everyone wanted to go with me to greet our dear David and Sennia (and Gargery). There was no question of the twins going, naturally, although David John declared I was unfair and Charla raged like a miniature Medea. Nefret decided to remain with them, and after some discussion it was agreed that Ramses would accompany me instead of Emerson. This suited me very well. Emerson was not the most restful of traveling companions, and it was only right that Ramses should be among the first to greet his best friend.
Emerson insisted on going to the station with us, and so did Daoud. Despite the lateness of the hour the platform was very busy. Many people preferred taking the night express, which started from Aswan and made only a few stops after Luxor. The enterprising merchants of Luxor were out in force, in a last-ditch effort to peddle their fake scarabs and ushebtis. A juggler kept a circle of brightly colored balls whirling, and a snake charmer squatted before the basket in which his creatures were confined. Daoud was not at all sure about railway trains and pressed various amulets into our hands to ensure our safety. Emerson (who was not at all sure about me) looked as if he were having second thoughts about accompanying me.
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” he ordered Ramses, who had come back from seeing our luggage bestowed in our compartments. “Not for a second.”
Rather than point out the inconvenience (not to mention impropriety) of this, I nudged Ramses, kissed Emerson, and got into the carriage. As soon as the train was underway we went to the bar for a whiskey and soda.
“You are looking very smart, Mother,” said Ramses, raising his glass in salute. “Is that, by chance, intended to impress our friend Smith?”
“I had thought of calling on him.” I acknowledged the compliment with a smile and adjusted my hat—a broad-brimmed white straw to which I had added a few red silk roses. “We promised to keep him informed, and we haven’t reported Sethos’s arrival.”
“Do you think we ought?”
It was his way of saying he didn’t think we ought.