Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [95]
“I share your doubts, Ramses, and I am glad to have this opportunity to discuss the matter with you.”
Frowning, Ramses opened his cigarette case and offered it to me. In order to establish an atmosphere of congeniality, I took one and allowed him to light it for me.
“Have you thought about the theory we discussed the other day?” he asked.
I had to search my memory. “Oh, you mean the theory that—er—your uncle has deliberately misled us?”
“I would put it more strongly than that,” Ramses said.
“Don’t put it more strongly just now. We could be overheard.” The waiter approached to ask if we were dining soon; if so, he would save a table for us. “We may as well go in now,” I said. “We will continue the discussion over dinner.”
“It isn’t a discussion so much as an unprovable theory,” Ramses said, after we had taken our places. “I agree that there are holes in my original proposal…”
There were holes in all the others we came up with as well: that Sethos had turned traitor and was being pursued by the British Secret Service; that Smith had turned traitor and was trying to keep Sethos from betraying him; that instead of a state secret Sethos had made off with a priceless artifact from a looted site in Syria or Palestine. In the end, I was forced to agree with Ramses that we ought not confide in Mr. Smith until we knew more. My suggestion that I have a little chat with the gentleman was not received with enthusiasm.
“You may give away more than you get,” Ramses said. “What if he asks directly whether you have heard from Sethos? You never lie—”
“Unless it is absolutely necessary.”
Ramses laughed. “Yes, I know. Well, we will leave it at that for now. You look tired, Mother. Do you want coffee?”
“No, thank you. I am not at all tired, but I believe I will retire.”
We parted at the doors of our respective compartments. During dinner the porter had made up one of the berths. The bed looked very inviting, despite the fact that the sheets showed signs of wear. Though the room was stuffy I did not open the window; along with cool air came dust and windblown sand. I also cut my ablutions short, since to be honest I was somewhat tired. After assuming my nightdress I got into bed and lay looking up at the ceiling, which was painted in someone’s notion of ancient Egyptian art. The jackal god Anubis glared down at me from amid a clump of violent purple lotuses. He was not a reassuring sight, but I fell asleep almost at once and did not stir until I woke to hear the conductor announcing our imminent arrival in Cairo.
It was almost midday when we reached Alexandria, to learn that the ship was in port and tenders were transporting passengers ashore. We went at once to the customs shed, where amid the milling arrivals I beheld David. He caught sight of us—or rather, of Ramses, who was, like David himself, a head taller than those nearby—and began waving. A flood of affection filled me at the sight of his lean brown face and black curls, so like those of my son.
“Where are Sennia and Gargery?” I asked, standing on tiptoe.
Like a small up-to-date version of Venus rising from the sea, Sennia was lifted high above David’s head. She too was waving and calling out, though I could not hear her through the noise.
I did not see Gargery until after the trio had passed through customs. Leaning heavily upon his cane, he tottered up to me. “I brought them, madam.”
“So I see,” I replied, turning to receive the affectionate embrace of a son from David, and a breath-expelling hug from Sennia.
She seemed to have grown several inches in the past few months, and at thirteen was quite the little lady—white gloves, parasol and all. Half-English, half-Egyptian, she had the smooth brown skin and long-lashed dark eyes of her mother and, heaven be thanked, little resemblance to her father.
“Where are the others?” she demanded. “The Professor and Aunt Nefret and the twins and Selim and Daoud and Fatima?”
“You will see them tomorrow,” I replied, straightening her hair bow. “We are taking the evening train to Luxor.”
Gargery groaned. “Oh, madam, I had hoped