Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [96]
“You were seasick, I suppose,” I said. “Well, Gargery, I am sorry, but you brought it on yourself. No one asked you to come.”
I did feel sorry for the poor old fellow, but as I had learned, sympathy only made Gargery groan louder. Gargery didn’t like trains either; by the time we reached Cairo he was so pale and shaky I took the group straight to Shepheard’s and settled Gargery in a comfortable chair in the lobby.
“We will take tea here instead of on the terrace,” I said, torn between concern and exasperation. “The train doesn’t leave for several hours, so have a little nap, Gargery.”
“I am not at all tired, madam,” Gargery said haughtily. His eyes closed and his white head drooped onto his chest. He didn’t stir, even when the waiter brought tea and a mouth-watering assortment of biscuits. Forgetting her dignity, Sennia took the sweetest.
“Curse the old rascal, he doesn’t look at all well,” I said in a low voice. “He can have a compartment to himself. Sennia will share mine and you and Ramses another, David. You will probably sit up all night talking.”
“I will take care of Gargery,” Sennia said. She picked up the cup of tea I poured for her, her little finger elegantly extended. “Oh, it is wonderful to be back! Can we go to the Museum? Can we go to the suk?”
“I don’t want to miss the train,” I said, wavering under the appeal of a pair of big black eyes.
“It will probably be late,” Ramses said. “You want to shop, I suppose, Sennia. Would you settle for a short stroll along the Muski?”
Sennia, her mouth full of cake, nodded eagerly.
“I could stand to do a little shopping myself,” I admitted.
Ramses looked at his watch. “I have a call to make. I shall be back in good time. David, will you go with the ladies?”
David gave him an odd look, and agreed so readily that I wondered how much Ramses had told him. They hadn’t had much chance to speak privately.
“What about Gargery?” I asked.
“He’ll sleep for hours,” David said. He put a gentle hand on the old man’s shoulder and got a faint snore in response. “We won’t be gone long. You had better write a note for him, Aunt Amelia.”
I did so, and asked the headwaiter to look after our friend.
With Sennia dancing along at my side, talking incessantly, I had no opportunity to ask David anything. He stood by with that annoying patient look men have on such occasions while Sennia and I purchased Christmas presents. She was a generous little soul and would have emptied her small purse buying gifts for the twins if I hadn’t prevented her. I cannot say the gifts were always in good taste. In one shop she made David turn his back while she negotiated with the owner for a hideous necktie printed with blue and purple scarabs.
Not until her arms were loaded with parcels, which she would allow no one else to carry, did I manage to persuade her to return to the hotel. Ramses arrived, by cab, at the same time we did and we entered the lobby together, Sennia chattering nonstop.
“We had better get ourselves to the station,” I said. “The train may be on time for once. Wake Gargery.”
But the chair he had occupied was empty, and there was no sign of him.
David went to look for him, in the obvious place. When he returned, his face was troubled. “The attendant said no one of his description had been there.”
Seeing us, the headwaiter hurried up. “Are you looking for your friend, Mrs. Emerson? He has gone on.”
“Good Gad,” I exclaimed. “Gone where?”
“He mumbled something about the railway station, madam.”
“How long ago did he leave the hotel?” I asked.
“Shortly after you did, madam. I kept an eye on the old gentleman, as you requested, but—well, we are very busy this afternoon, and I didn’t notice he was gone from his chair until he tapped me with his cane and said to tell you he had gone on. He was mumbling to himself, madam. Complaining, I believe.”
We stared at one another in consternation, but none of us voiced the alarm we felt because of Sennia. She chuckled. “He gets confused sometimes,” she explained.
“Perhaps that is