CHAPTER EIGHT
No Innocent Person Can Lead a Life So Free of Harmless Vice
A week later we were all on the platform when the night train from Cairo drew into the station. Even Emerson had taken time from his work.
Evelyn was one of the first off the train. She was pale and thin, with dark stains of weariness under her eyes, but there was an indefinable change in her manner that made me hope the longed-for recovery had begun. I realized she had not received any of the encouraging messages I had sent, for after a quick glance at me she ran to Ramses and embraced him.
"Thank God! You are better, Ramses? You are recovered?"
"Yes, Aunt Evelyn," said Ramses. "Fortunately the knife missed all the vital organs and the doctor Mother consulted, contrary to her usual custom, proved to be competent. I lost a considerable quantity of blood, but thanks in part to the consumption of several gallons of chicken soup—"
"Knife?" Evelyn adjusted her hat, which had been knocked askew by the impetuosity of her embrace. "Good heavens! Were you wounded, then? I was under the impression that you had been taken ill."
"Er, hmph," said Emerson. "Never mind Ramses, he is back to normal, as you can see. You look done in, my dear Evelyn; let us go straight to the hotel. Where is the rest of your luggage?"
There was no more, only their hand luggage. They had not taken the time to pack a trunk or to rest along the way, pausing only long enough to await the next method of transportation available. With Evelyn's arm around me—supporting me, as she believed—I felt a pang of guilt, but only a little one. Emerson's methods were unorthodox, but they appeared to have been efficacious.
By the time we reached the hotel, Walter was questioning Emerson about the tomb. I tried to persuade Evelyn to lie down but she would not, claiming the pleasure of the reunion with those she loved and the relief of finding her worst fears groundless had restored her; so we settled down in the sitting room of their suite and ordered tea while Emerson lectured.
"We have made less progress than I had hoped," he admitted. "I have had to spend time fending off cursed newspaper reporters and curious tourists, and we have been bedeviled by accidents. Two rockfalls—"
"Two?" Walter exclaimed, with an involuntary glance at his wife. "Are you certain they were accidents?"
"What else could they have been?" It was an evasive answer, but we had been unable to discover how the collapse of the rock could have been engineered; the tomb had been guarded night and day.
The smile that illumined Walter's thin face was the first genuine expression of amusement I had seen on his countenance for months. "My dear Radcliffe, I have never known you and Amelia to suffer from ordinary accidents. I took it for granted that as usual you had a gang of criminals after you."
"Yet you came," I exclaimed, much moved.
"All the more reason to come," said Evelyn firmly.
"In point of fact—" Ramses began.
Emerson and I said in unison, "Be quiet, Ramses."
"I intend to confide fully in you both," Emerson went on, taking a pencil from his pocket. "But first let me finish my description of the tomb. The access to it is difficult ..."
Since there was not a sheet of paper handy, I let him draw on the tablecloth. He sketched a rough plan of the fissure and the tomb entrance, and finished, "After the second rockfall I decided to follow Ramses's suggestion that we clear the lower part of the fissure entirely. I don't want to risk rumors that there is a curse on the tomb."
"Not to mention the risk of one of the men or one of us being crippled or killed by falling rock," I interrupted. "There is no danger of that now, Walter, I assure you. The lower section of the crevice is open and the men are constructing stairs."
"But the tomb," Walter persisted. "Are there inscriptions? Has the burial been disturbed?"
"Now, Walter, don't get ahead of me," Emerson replied, infuriatingly cool. "Thus far we have not penetrated beyond the first chamber. Here is the entrance passage ..."
His pencil dashed across the white cloth, and with a smile at me Evelyn moved a teacup out of his way. "The passage and at least part of the chamber beyond had been filled with rock chips," Emerson continued.
"Deliberately filled? How do you know the debris was not washed into the tomb by floodwater?"
"Curse it, Walter, are you questioning my expertise?" Emerson demanded.
Walter returned his scowl with an amiable smile, and Emerson said grudgingly, "It is a reasonable question. Though rain is infrequent here, severe storms are not unknown, and many tombs have been damaged by flash floods or seepage. For some reason, possibly because rainwater was funneled straight down the crevice, this tomb appears to have suffered very little. It was deliberately filled in order to protect it.
"The thieves dug a tunnel through the passage and removed some, at least, of the fill in the first chamber—I don't know how much, since I* don't know how much there was to begin with, but there was a considerable accumulation of chips of that sort at the bottom of the crevice.
"At the far end of this room is a doorway"—he sketched it in—"blocked with slabs of stone. Our friends managed to remove one of the stones and began a tunnel through the filling of the passage beyond—for it too was closed by rocks and chips. I don't know what lies beyond that opening."
The abrupt conclusion left Walter gaping. "But my dear fellow, what inhuman lack of curiosity! Why haven't you investigated?"
"Because the tunnel is so narrow only a child could pass through, and of unknown length. Even if I were willing to allow Ramses to attempt something so perilous, he has not been in fit shape for such an exercise these past days."
"And you wouldn't trust one of the local lads to explore the place," Walter said thoughtfully.
"Not unless I searched him to the skin after he had come out," Emerson replied with a snap of his teeth. "And there are other hiding places.. . No, I won't chance it, or take the risk of an untrained boy destroying a fragile object."
He avoided Ramses's accusing eyes as he spoke. He had refused to allow David to enter the second tunnel, claiming he was, first, untrained, and, second, not yet fully recovered from his injuries. But I knew, as did Ramses, that Emerson was still suspicious of the boy. He appeared to accept Ramses's insistence that David could not have been the one who attacked Nefret, but the question of why someone should go to such lengths to incriminatethe boy still remained unanswered. It was possible that the incident had been arranged for that purpose, and some people would have been too blinded by prejudice against a stranger and a native to weigh the evidence properly.
"Well, my curiosity is at fever pitch," Walter said. "I am ready to proceed whenever you are."
He had risen to his feet. Emerson studied him with affectionate amusement. "Dressed like that?"
Younger and more slightly built than his brother, Walter had led a much more sedentary life since he settled down to raise a family and concentrate on the study of the Egyptian language. The stoop of his shoulders and the relative pallor of his complexion made him appear older than his real age, and his Norfolk jacket, wrinkled though it was by days of travel, would have been more appropriate for a stroll through English meadows than an archaeological dig.
"Yes, you must certainly change," Evelyn said. "I instructed George to pack your riding boots, but I am afraid there was nothing in your wardrobe suitable for strenuous activity."
She did not mean to sound critical, I believe, but her cool voice and the fading of Walter's smile assured me that relations between them had not measurably improved. I would have to attend to that matter, and I felt sure the arrangements I had made would facilitate the rapprochement I hoped for.
Evelyn was determined to accompany us and declared she would not delay us by changing; her traveling costume was a modish but practical tweed suit with ankle-length skirts, and stout walking shoes. She also refused a carriage. "We have got sadly out of condition since those days at Amarna; we must begin our program of exercise at once or we will never be able to hold up our end."
"Then you mean to stay on?" Emerson, whose arm she had accepted, looked at her questioningly.
She smiled at him, in almost her old way. "You have said nothing about the decoration of the tomb, but I know you well, Radcliffe; you are trying to whet my curiosity. Are the paintings as fine as you hoped?"
"They are unique, my dear Evelyn; they will revolutionize the history of Egyptian art. No decorated royal tomb as early as this has ever been found; if you had asked me, I would have said ..."
Smiling with satisfaction, I fell back and joined Ramses, who was walking by himself, Nefret and Walter having preceded us.
"Are you feeling well, Ramses?"
Ramses started out of some dark—to judge by his expression—private thoughts. "It is good of you to inquire, Mother. I take the question as anexpression of amiable affection rather than a request for information, for you must be aware of the answer, since you have insisted on inspecting the injury daily, though for at least the past two days there has been no need of that particular invasion of my—"
"For heaven's sake, Ramses, I was under the impression that you were attempting to correct the unnecessary prolixity and formality of your speech patterns."
"I am," said Ramses. "And I appreciate the reminder. I say, Aunt Evelyn looks better, doesn't she?"
Physically she was not visibly improved; the change was more subtle. Evidently Ramses's affection for his aunt had given him unexpected insight. I agreed, and he went on to suggest that since he was fully recovered I should persuade his father to let him investigate the second tunnel and the mysteries that lay beyond. (I quote.)
Our arrival at the ferry put an end to the argument. I settled myself next to Evelyn, since I had not yet had an opportunity to enjoy a comfortable chat with her.
"Words fail me," I said sincerely, "when I attempt to express my pleasure in seeing you—particularly in seeing you here, my dearest Evelyn. Dare I hope that you will remain for the rest of the season, and that you are indeed enjoying a new peace of mind?"
The wind brought a touch of color to her face and blew her curls around her face. There were threads of silver among the gold now, but it shone as bright as ever.
"We will stay as long as you and Radcliffe need us, Amelia. Not until his message came did I fully realize that I am not the only one to suffer a loss, and that others have borne it with greater courage and faith. Can you forgive me for behaving so badly?"
"My dearest girl!" We embraced. When I released her I saw that there were tears in her eyes, but her smile was her old sweet smile.
"I had ample time during our long journey," she resumed, "to consider my weakness and compare it with the fortitude of others. I remembered the innumerable times you had faced danger to those you love—those long days last winter, when you believed Radcliffe was dead—or worse—the occasions, including the present one, when you feared for Ramses's life—"
"Ah well, where Ramses is concerned, one becomes used to it," I replied, feeling it was time to lighten the mood. "I claim no credit for fortitude with regard to Ramses. Paralyzed numbness would be a more accurate description."
"I know you too well to be misled by your modesty, dear Amelia."
"Hmmm. That word, I believe, is not one that has often been applied tome. But let us forget the sorrows of the past in the joys of the present. Look, Evelyn. Your artist's eye must appreciate the beauty of the view— the gold of the cliffs, the emerald green of the cultivation. And there, just ahead and to the right—do you recognize a familiar shape?"
"The dear old Philae!" Evelyn clasped her hands. "But I must call her the Amelia now. Radcliffe told us he intended to purchase her for you; in my selfish grief I failed to respond as he no doubt hoped I would, but what happy memories the sight of her recalls! She was not a large craft—only four staterooms, as I recall. You said you had employed a governess for the children ..."
I burst out laughing. "My dear Evelyn, don't be so devious. I thought you would be happier at the hotel than in those cramped quarters on board, but I would evict ten governesses for you and Walter if you would prefer that arrangement. We will send Miss Marmaduke to the hotel."
I accepted her thanks and protestations with a modest smile. In fact, I had already booked a room for Gertrude at the Luxor, and told her to begin packing.
When we disembarked, Selim was waiting with the horses, and I realized that Emerson had intended all along to return at once to the excavation. By the time we arrived, the temperature had begun to rise, and I studied Walter's flushed face and the stiffness with which he dismounted with some concern. I must make certain he did not overdo or he would be sore and sunburned for days.
Tactfully I urged him and Evelyn toward the folding chairs and tables I had caused to be set up under an awning of sailcloth. Emerson had fussed at me for "wasting time" with this, but unnecessary discomfort is a form of martyrdom with which I have no sympathy. Efficiency was also a consideration. There was no other shade when the sun was at the zenith, and it was very difficult to read Emerson's notes when he used a rock or the back of one of the men as a desk.
Gertrude was seated at the table, puzzling over the most recent notes. (Emerson's handwriting, even when he is not using a rock as a desk, is difficult to decipher.) Both of the cats were stretched out in the sun nearby, ostentatiously ignoring Gertrude. There is no creature better at delicate rudeness than a cat, and Bastet especially had gone out of her way to be rude to Gertrude, despite the lady's efforts to woo her with scraps of food and inappropriate compliments. I had warned Gertrude not to address Bastet as "pretty puss," and "sweet darling," but she went on doing it, to Bastet's deep disgust. No one, not even Gertrude, would have been moved to call Anubis "pretty puss."
I introduced Gertude, and the cats proceeded to underline the insult by sauntering up to greet Walter and Evelyn.
"They seem to be getting on better," Evelyn said, stroking Bastet as the cat rubbed against her ankles and Anubis favored Walter by clawing at his shoes.
"She allows Anubis to come within five feet of her without spitting," I replied. "That is progress of a sort, I suppose."
Hard workers though they were, our men were not averse to a little break in their labor. They gathered round; I introduced each by name and Evelyn smiled on them with her usual graciousness. Some of the older men were known to Walter, though he had not seen them for years. He was particularly friendly to Abdullah, wringing his hand and addressing him in stumbling Arabic.
"It will take me a while to regain my former fluency," he added with a laugh. "I have been studying dead languages too long, Abdullah."
"It is good to have you back," Abdullah said gravely. "And the Sitt your wife."
He withdrew when Ramses approached, tugging at a reluctant David. It could not be said that David and his grandfather were on friendly terms; the boy got on much better with the others, especially his amiable, easygoing cousin Daoud. But I knew he would come to no harm with Abdullah's eagle eye upon him.
His appearance had improved since he came to us. Most of the sores and cuts had healed; I had trimmed his hair and prevailed upon him to wash rather more often than he considered necessary. The change was comparative, however, and I suppose he still looked rather pathetic, for Evelyn's face softened with maternal pity. She was wise enough to refrain from expressing that pity, however. Instead she said, "I am very pleased to meet you, David. If you are a friend of Ramses's, you must be a friend of mine."
"We are blood brothers," Ramses explained.
"Are you indeed?" I exclaimed. "Curse it, Ramses—"
"A small amount only of the vital fluid was required," Ramses said. He jogged David with his elbow, reminding him, I supposed, that he was expected to respond.
The boy jumped. He had been staring at Evelyn.
"How do you do?" He pronounced each word slowly and carefully. Ramses nodded approvingly, and David went on, "You have the face of Sitt Miriam in the book. She is beautiful. She hold ... holds?" He glanced at Ramses, who was too thunderstruck to respond. "Hold," David repeated, "the Child. She look so to him. How do you do?"
Sitt Miriam is the name given by Egyptian Christians to the Virgin. The little speech astonished me as much as it had Ramses. I could not be sure how much of it Evelyn understood, but she was visibly moved. Impulsivelyshe held out her hand. David took it and, after a moment of hesitation, shook it gravely. "How do you do? I am very pleased to meet you."
Ramses drew him away.
"Good Gad," said Emerson, staring after them. "We appear to have a courtier in our midst. I wonder how much of that pretty speech was drilled into him by Ramses."
"Very little, I should think," I replied. "Ramses does not excel at pretty speeches."
"Hmph," said Emerson. "Well, Amelia, if you have finished with the civilities, I would like to resume work."
The rest of us followed him to the bottom of the slope in time to see a basket being lowered into the hands of Selim, who carried it off a little distance and dumped it onto the growing pile of rock chips.
"Part of the fill?" Walter asked. "It appears to be devoid of artifacts; why don't you just shove it over the edge?"
"You seem to have forgotten my rules," Emerson replied with some acerbity. "We have found little as yet, but that is no excuse for slovenly excavation technique. If you will all excuse me, I am going up."
Walter was accustomed to his brother's manners. "I will go with you. I am anxious to see the tomb."
"I believe the stairs are not yet finished, Walter," Evelyn said.
It was obvious that they were not, for Mohammed was squatting on the ground nearby working on them—simple structures of wooden steps and supports, with stakes for a rope railing.
Walter stiffened. "The rope ladder is adequate."
"At least wait until you have proper boots, and perhaps gloves to protect your hands."
It was the wrong approach entirely, as I could have told her. Men behave like little boys when someone, especially a woman, questions their fortitude. Walter might have yielded—as men go, he is relatively sensible—had not another man appeared, descending the ladder with the speed and agility of an athlete. Dropping lightly to the ground, he removed his hat and bowed to the ladies.
His easy grace made poor Walter appear even frailer and more ineffectual. I have never encountered a man whose physique matched that of my husband, but Sir Edward's working costume—especially the shirt, damp with perspiration—displayed his athletic form to best advantage.
Emerson greeted him in typical fashion. "I told you you would not be needed today."
"I had nothing better to do," was the cheerful reply. "As I said, sir, when my photographic services are not required, I will turn my hand to any other task. I have been helping Daoud label the baskets."
I deemed it wiser to allow Emerson to make the introductions, which he did, albeit grudgingly. Sir Edward had taken Emerson's warning to heart; he had hardly ventured to speak to me since he joined the staff and he had kept well away from Nefret. He bowed deferentially over Evelyn's hand and exclaimed, as he shook that of Walter, that it was an honor to meet the man whose scholarship was revered by all who were acquainted with the field of Egyptology.
Emerson studied him suspiciously, but decided there was safety in numbers and that I would be adequately chaperoned. "Come along, Walter, if you are coming. You had better precede me; I will steady the ladder from below."
"Allow me to steady it for you, Professor." Sir Edward followed them, and I heard him add, "Mr. Emerson, sir, take my pith helmet, if it fits your head; there is some danger of falling rocks."
"Oh, dear," Evelyn exclaimed. "Amelia, do try to dissuade Walter, he is not in condition for this."
"It would be a waste of time, my dear. We may as well sit down in the shade, don't you think?"
We returned to the shelter, where Evelyn entered into conversation with Gertrude, apologizing for putting her out of her room. This display of consideration appeared to surprise Gertrude very much. I suppose she was not accustomed to it; courtesy to those they consider their inferiors is rare among the upper classes.
"Mrs. Emerson's wishes are, of course, my commands." After a brief pause she added, softly but with feeling, "I only wish you could persuade her and Nefret to join me at the hotel. It would be much safer."
"Safer?" Evelyn inquired.
"Oh, it is just the usual sort of thing, Evelyn," I replied, shooting Gertrude a look of reproof. "I had intended to tell you all about it at a later time; but since the subject has been introduced, I may as well begin now."
The narrative served at least to distract Evelyn from her expectation of seeing her husband come crashing to the ground. I did not go into detail since I expected I would have to repeat the story later to Walter, and since Ramses would undoubtedly want to give his own, embellished version.
"Quite the usual sort of thing," Evelyn said with a smile, when I had finished. "Poor Miss Marmaduke! I hope you don't blame her for being nervous, Amelia; it takes a while to become accustomed to your way of life."
"I certainly didn't mean to frighten you," Gertrude said earnestly. "You and your husband can be in no danger. It is Nefret I am concerned about. Won't you let her come with me, Mrs. Emerson? She could share my room and I promise I would watch over her every moment."
The very idea that Gertrude could guard the girl more effectively than we could was preposterous. She must think me a fool to propose such a scheme, and I hated to think of the language Nefret would use should I propose it to her.
"You alarm me, Miss Marmaduke," Evelyn exclaimed. "Why do you believe Nefret is in greater danger than the others? Ramses—"
"He is not a girl," said Gertrude, looking so prim and pious that I could not help laughing.
"That is undeniable. What are you trying to say, Gertrude?"
Her eyes fell and a deep blush suffused her face; but she spoke out stoutly. "My first impression, that terrible night, was that the man had entered her room in order to ... to ..."
"Ravish her?" I inquired. "I hardly think so. That particular crime is almost unknown in Egypt, and only a madman would attack a foreign female—much less a female under the protection of the Father of Curses."
"Perhaps you are right," Gertrude murmured. "But you cannot blame me for fearing the worst. The sight of the poor child, her garment torn, her terror so great that she flew at me when I attempted to reassure her . . ."
A shudder ran through her. I said impatiently, "Yes, Gertrude, I have heard your explanation. Enough; I don't want to spoil this joyful reunion with depressing conversation. Suppose we ... Ah, but there are the men, returning. Walter is safe and sound, you see."
Safe he was, but not entirely sound; his hands were scraped, his face brightly flushed, his garments ripped and soaked with perspiration. However, when I proposed that we return at once to the dahabeeyah he looked at me in astonishment.
"Now? Out of the question. The men have found decorated fragments! They are lowering the basket now. Inscriptions, my dear Amelia, inscriptions! I distinctly saw hieroglyphic writing!"
He pulled away from Evelyn and went limping off toward Emerson, who was supervising the descent of the precious basket. I looked at Sir Edward, who had followed Walter at a discreet distance. Smoothing his damp hair, he said with his engaging smile, "I have been privileged to witness a professional discussion between two of the greatest experts in the field. There is certainly writing on one of the pieces. The Professor will want photographs, I expect; please excuse me."
"There is no use trying to get Walter away now," I said to Evelyn, who was murmuring distressfully. "Let us go to the dahabeeyah, you and I. The others can follow." Lowering my voice, I added, "I must talk to you in private."
I announced our departure to Emerson, who replied with an abstractedgrunt. Ramses was in the thick of the crowd as usual, trying to get a look at the fragments before his uncle could do so. Drawing him aside I told him to find Nefret and stay with her.
"She is with David," Ramses said. "I trust you are not implying he—"
"I am not implying anything, I am giving you an order. Don't let her out of your sight. And don't ask me why. And try not to annoy her any more than you can help."
Ramses folded his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Is there anything else, Mother?"
"Probably. But I can't think what at this moment."
He escorted us to the donkeys. Nefret and David were sitting on the ground a short distance away. Her bright head and David's black were close together, bent over something David was holding. It appeared to be a notebook resembling the ones Ramses used.
"What are they doing?" I asked, as Ramses helped his aunt to mount.
"We are teaching him to read," Ramses said.
"English? He can't even speak the language!"
"He is learning it," said Ramses. "Do you object, Mother?"
"No, I suppose not. Tell Nefret ... I had better tell her myself. Put on your hat, Nefret!"
"She does not like taking orders from Ramses," Evelyn said with a smile, as the donkeys trotted off.
"You noticed that, did you?"
"I was glad to see it, Amelia. When she first came to us she was so meek and obedient I feared she would allow Ramses to bully her—with the best of intentions, naturally. She has gained more confidence now and her natural strength of character has emerged."
"I hadn't thought of it quite that way," I admitted. "You reassure me, Evelyn, as you always do. Their constant quarreling tries my nerves, but that state of affairs is certainly preferable to Ramses's initial infatuation. He was so bedazzled he could hardly pronounce her name."
"He was only a little boy," Evelyn replied tolerantly. "I felt certain your worries on that score were unnecessary. After all, there is nothing like continued proximity to strip away the veils of romance."
It was a surprisingly cynical statement from that source. I decided not to pursue it.
"But what was it you wanted to tell me, Amelia?" Evelyn asked. "Are we private enough now?"
I slowed my mount to a walk, allowing Selim, who had escorted us, to draw ahead. "Yes, and we may not have another such opportunity in the immediate future. This is between ourselves, Evelyn. I don't want Emerson or Walter—and certainly not Ramses—to know what I am planning."
By the time we reached the Amelia I had explained my intention and the reasons for it. Evelyn's gentle countenance reflected a variety of emotions, but her only comment, as I had anticipated, was an assurance that she would do precisely as I asked.
We hastened, therefore, directly to the chamber Gertrude occupied. The door was not locked; there were bars on the insides of the doors but no way of securing them from the outside, and, under ordinary circumstances, no need to do so.
It was the first time since her illness that I had entered Gertrude's room. It was certainly a good deal neater than it had been. She had packed her belongings except for toilet articles and a change of clothing; two cases stood at the foot of the bed.
"What a nuisance!" I exclaimed. "I suppose she has locked them; look through the dresser drawers for her keys, Evelyn. I don't suppose she left them here, but I would rather not pick the locks unless I must."
Evelyn complied, though with visible reluctance. The task violated all her principles—and, I hardly need say, my own. However, I never allow my principles to interfere with common sense.
"Nothing," she reported, closing the drawer with her fingertips.
Expecting this, I had already extracted two hairpins from the knot at the nape of my neck. Ever since a certain memorable occasion when I had found myself with no more formidable weapon than those hairpins, I had made a point of selecting the longest and stiffest available. One had to take care when jabbing them into a chignon or braided coronet, since they did not bend at all, but the other advantages far outweighed that little difficulty.
Evelyn stood by, glancing from me to the door. "How long—"
"I have no idea, my dear," I replied. "Curse it! This is proving more difficult than I had expected. I ought to have asked Ramses to give me a lesson."
"Perhaps," Evelyn said timidly, "you might allow me to try."
I sat back on my heels and stared at her in surprise. Blushing, she continued, "Ramses always enjoys showing me his new skills. No, dear Amelia, I do not know how he acquired this one and I thought it wiser not to ask."
I handed her the hairpins, and watched interestedly as she deftly opened the locks.
She left the task of searching the cases to me. I carefully inspected each garment in turn. Searching a case or drawer without leaving evidence of that activity takes a certain knack—and a good deal of time.
"What are you looking for?" Evelyn asked.
"I have not the least idea. But I am sure I will recognize it when I see it."
I emptied and repacked one case without finding anything out of the way except a remarkable and voluminous garment of thin crimson silk embroidered with ancient Egyptian symbols. My understanding of human psychology reminded me that people who are shy and modest in public often indulge in romantic fantasies when alone. The robe was not evidence of guilt, nor were the books on Eastern religion. I had already deduced from her conversation that she had a leaning toward esoteric philosophies.
"Hurry," Evelyn begged.
"I am making as much haste as I dare, Evelyn. Lock the first case again, will you please, while I examine the second?"
The second case contained a number of interesting items, including the source of the strange scent—sticks of incense and a bronze holder for them. Most informative of all was a slim volume wrapped reverently in a square of gold velvet.
"Well!" I exclaimed. "This explains a number of things, including those questions on Egyptian religion Emerson enjoyed answering so much. The confounded woman is a Theosophist, Evelyn! This is a copy of Isis Unveiled, by Madame Blavatsky, the founder of the Theosophical Society."
"Is it a secret society, Amelia?" Evelyn inquired hopefully.
"I am afraid not, my dear. It is a perfectly harmless if fuzzy-minded blend of Indian philosophy and occultism. Dear me, what a disappointment. Perhaps Miss Marmaduke is innocent after all—of everything except gullibility."
"Are you satisfied, Amelia?" Evelyn asked uneasily. "They will be returning shortly, and it would be very embarrassing to be caught."
"My dear, we will have ample warning. Emerson's ordinary speaking voice is audible at a considerable distance, not to mention the shouts that will probably herald his arrival."
Knowing this to be true I was not at all worried about being caught redhanded, and I completed the search without haste and without result.
"Curse it," I exclaimed. "She must be guilty; no innocent person can lead a life so free of harmless vice! No love letters, no bottles of liquor, not even a hidden box of chocolates. But I suppose some would consider a belief in the occult to be a vice, of an intellectual nature at least."
I subjected the room to an intense visual survey. I had overlooked nothing; every inch had been inspected. Except .. .
I snatched up the pair of boots that stood at the foot of the bed, turned them upside down and shook them vigorously. Had it not been for the shaking, the little cardboard box would have gone undiscovered. It had been wedged into the narrowest part of the toe.
I untied the string and removed the top. Cotton wool filled the box and told me I must proceed gently; a gleam of gold gave me a premonition of what I would find. It was the ring I had first seen on the finger of Mr. Shelmadine—the jewel bearing the cartouche of Queen Tetisheri, which had disappeared from our sitting room on the night he vanished from mortal ken.
After luncheon, which was served on the upper deck, we dispersed. Emerson, of course, went back to the tomb, taking Sir Edward and the children with him. Since Gertrude had finished her packing, I accompanied her and the younger Emersons across to Luxor so that the exchange of accommodations could be made and some necessary shopping completed.
There had been no opportunity for Evelyn and me to discuss the astonishing discovery of the ring. Warned by Emerson's hail, we had barely time to conceal the evidences of our visit and beat a hasty retreat. When Gertrude joined us on the deck she had changed her clothing and was wearing the boots. If she had noticed anything amiss she showed no signs of it. I wondered what she had done with the ring. She could not be wearing it on a chain around her neck; I would have observed the bulge.
When we reached the hotel I went with her to her room to study the arrangements, in case I wanted, on some future occasion, to drop in uninvited. It was quite satisfactory—on the second floor, with a small balcony and a most convenient vine not far from it.
Gertrude was kind enough to approve of the accommodations, but seemed reluctant to let me go.
"Don't you want me to return with you and resume the children's lessons? It has been almost a week since—"
"They will not be in a fit state of mind to concentrate on English literature this evening," I said impatiently. "Discipline is one thing, Gertrude, unreasonable expectation is quite another. I will send someone to fetch you tomorrow morning, or perhaps you could accompany Sir Edward. That would probably be best. He will notify you of the time and place when he returns this evening."
She looked as if she would have objected, though I could not imagine to what—being forced to share a boat, unchaperoned, with a personable young man? Bidding her good afternoon, I left.
Shopping took hardly any time, since the shops of Luxor offer little tothe traveler except antiquities, spurious and genuine. The most sensible course of action would have been for Walter to return to Cairo, where European goods are readily available, but this he stubbornly refused to do, so in the end I was forced to telegraph and hope that my friend Mrs. Wilson would be able to approximate Walter's sizes in trousers and boots.
When we returned to the dinghy with our few purchases, the sun hung low over the western cliffs and sunset colors spread across the rippling water. I looked forward to the moment when I could dismiss Walter—for a bath, a rest, anything—and converse privately with Evelyn, but it was not to be. The others arrived from the dig at the same time we reached the Amelia.
Hat in hand, Sir Edward drew me aside. He had got in the habit of dining with us; now he announced his intention of returning at once to the hotel. "You will want to be en famille this evening, Mrs. Emerson. Don't go to the trouble of sending the dinghy for me tomorrow, I will just take the ferry and go straight to the excavation."
It was a graceful, gentlemanly gesture, and I said as much. "Perhaps you would not mind bringing Miss Marmaduke with you tomorrow, Sir Edward."
"Not at all. I might—with your permission, of course—ask her to have dinner with me this evening. She seems very shy and timid; perhaps I can reassure her."
I was about to reply when Emerson emerged from the corridor leading to the cabins. "Amelia! What the devil are you doing? I am waiting for you."
Sir Edward removed himself and I attempted to calm Emerson by reporting the conversation.
"Hmph," said Emerson, leading me to our room. "So he has turned his attentions to Miss Marmaduke, has he?"
"Would that were the case, Emerson."
"Why, Peabody, you shock me!" His good humor restored, Emerson knelt and began to unlace my boots. (He is given to such boyishly sentimental gestures in private.) "Surely you wouldn't turn a worldly libertine like Sir Edward loose on a timid spinster."
"If she were a timid spinster, such an experience would do her a world of good." Emerson chuckled, and I went on, "But Miss Marmaduke is not what she seems, Emerson. I am not certain whether that dinner will be a conference between co-conspirators or a fencing match between rivals, but it was clever of him to make the suggestion openly, for most people would take it as you just did."
"He is a clever fellow," Emerson agreed. "But not, perhaps, as diabolically clever as you believe. We may be imagining enemies where noneexist, Peabody. And now that we have found the tomb, even Riccetti may have given up."
"Are you suggesting that we refrain from telling Evelyn and Walter about the earlier attacks, the mysterious circumstances, the—"
"Yes, curse it, I am. Why alarm them unnecessarily?"
He took my bare feet into his big brown hands and looked up at me with a smile.
"Had I believed concern was unnecessary I would not have told Evelyn," I said.
Emerson unceremoniously let go my feet and rose. "I might have known. All right, Peabody, you got in ahead of me, as usual, and I suppose Ramses has been talking too. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be the respected patriarch of an ordinary English family."
"Very boring, Emerson."
Emerson's scowl turned to a reluctant grin. "Right again, Peabody. Come up to the saloon when you have changed, I will have the whiskey ready."
We had our whiskey, Walter and Emerson and I; Ramses demanded his share—"By the laws of Islam, Judaism and several Nubian tribes, I will soon be a man, Father"—but it was a rather mechanical performance, since he did not expect the speech would have any more effect on this occasion than it had had previously. Night had fallen; stars glimmered in the dark depths of heaven, the breeze carried the soft sounds of lapping water and the mystical aroma of Egypt.
I was beginning to regret having been so quick to take Evelyn into my confidence. She looked very frail and ridiculously youthful that evening, her fair hair falling loose over her shoulders, held only by a scarf. Walter was in worse case, his face scorched by the sun and his movements as stiff as those of a rheumaticky old gentleman. A few weeks of ordinary archaeological activity would toughen him and do him good, but our archaeological activities were seldom ordinary, and this year's dig promised to be even more perilous. I could only pray that our well-meant attempt to assist our dear ones had not endangered their lives.
Not while we are on the job, I told myself, with an affectionate glance at Emerson's resolute profile and stalwart frame. I dismissed my forebodings and addressed Walter.
"Loath though I am to cast a shadow over this joyful meeting, Walter, I must warn you and Evelyn of what has happened. It is a rather long story—"
Smiling, Walter interrupted me. "I daresay yours would not be as lengthy as was Ramses's version. No doubt, dear sister, your interpretation of those events differs from his, but you need not repeat the facts themselves."
"Amelia's interpretations generally differ from everybody's else's,"
Emerson said. "In the beginning, I admit, we were the subject of certain— er—attentions. All of them were designed to prevent us from locating the tomb. Now that we have found it there is no reason for those attentions to continue."
He took out his pipe, with the air of a man who has said the last word and does not intend to permit discussion.
Ramses cleared his throat. "With respect, Father, that hypothesis fails to explain certain of the—er—attentions. The most curious of them was the visit of Mr. Shelmadine and his subsequent disappearance. He must have known his hints of ancient cults and reincarnation would enrage rather than persuade you, and if the ring was not genuine, he went to a great deal of expense and trouble to have it made."
Evelyn gave me a questioning glance. I shook my head. This was not the moment to mention our recent discovery. I intended to save it for the final stroke that would demolish Emerson's skepticism and force him to admit I had been right all along.
"He was a madman," Emerson said shortly. "Egyptology inspires lunatic theories."
"True," Walter agreed. "But it is something of a coincidence, isn't it, that the fellow should turn up with that particular lunatic theory shortly after you had decided to search for that particular tomb?"
Emerson was beginning to lose his temper. Quickened breathing prevented him from speaking in time to prevent me from anticipating him.
"It is the other way round, Walter," I explained. "Emerson did intend to work at the Seventeenth Dynasty cemetery, but it was not until after Mr. Shelmadine's visit that he began to fit the other clues into place. Now, Emerson, don't deny it; you said it yourself. 'Someone has found Tetisheri's tomb. It is the only hypothesis that accounts for all this agitated activity.' "
"No sensible hypothesis accounts for Shelmadine," Emerson said furiously. "His visit was a coincidence."
"And his death was another coincidence?" I said. "The body has been identified, Emerson."
Emerson drew a long, shaken breath. "And how do you know that, Amelia? Confound it, have you been in communication with the Cairo police? How did you—"
"As you know, my dear, Sir Eldon Gorst is an old friend. He responded to my telegram a few days ago. Shelmadine was identified by ..."
I paused. I do not often tease my dear Emerson, but this time the temptation was irresistible.
"Well?" he demanded. "Don't be so cursed theatrical, Amelia. I suppose it was the ring."
"No, my dear. I was about to say, by a female individual who recognizedcertain—er—physical characteristics. The ring was not on Mr. Shelmadine's person. It is now in the possession of Miss Marmaduke."
The theatrical profession has always interested me. I had employed certain theatrical techniques in building up to my announcement—delay, misdirection and finally the use of what is, I believe, termed a "throw-it-away" line—and the effect was all I could have desired. The entire company was struck dumb and motionless with astonishment. Even Evelyn looked surprised, not at the news, but at my method of delivering it, and, perhaps, at its effect on Emerson. The blood rushed into his face, and from his parted lips came a series of gasping wheezes.
"It is true," Evelyn exclaimed. "We found it in Miss Marmaduke's room, in a boot. Oh, dear. Take a glass of water, Radcliffe, please."
Emerson waved it away. "You—you two—you searched.. . Good Gad!"
"It was necessary, Emerson," I assured him. "Do you suppose I would have committed such a flagrant breach of good manners unless I had felt I must?"
The flush of fury faded from Emerson's cheeks. His lips twitched. "A hit, Peabody, a palpable hit," he said. "And very neatly done, too."
"Then you concede, Emerson?"
"I owe you one for that," Emerson muttered. "I will be damned if I will concede anything, Peabody, until I know precisely what I am conceding." "You are only making one of your little jokes, Professor," said Nefret. "You know as well as I do what the ring means. Miss Marmaduke is a spy and a member of the gang who murdered Mr. Shelmadine! He may have been a lunatic, but he was not harmless. He was killed in order to prevent him from giving you information his rivals did not want you to have."
Ramses cleared his throat. "There is another explanation which—"
"Ramses," I began ominously.
"... which I am sure must have occurred to Mother and which she refrained from mentioning only because she was teasing you a little, Father, and was waiting for you to propose it yourself."
"Propose it," said Emerson, glancing at me.
"Yes, sir. I am sure you suspected from Miss Marmaduke's remarks one evening at dinner that she might be a follower of Madame Blavatsky and the Theosophists. Her reactions to the subjects I proceeded to introduce confirmed that impression. The mystical Hebrew book called The Kabbalah and the beliefs of certain Hindu sects are part of the philosophical foundations of Theosophy."
"We have already established that she is a believer, Ramses," I said impatiently.
"Ah," said Ramses, "but—as you are of course aware—another essential tenet of that dogma is the belief in reincarnation. 'This life' is only one ofmany, and an individual's behavior in this incarnation affects future lives. It is surely more than a coincidence that the man who visited you in Cairo claimed to be the reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian priest. We cannot be certain that the ring Mother found was the same one Mr. Shelmadine showed her. There may be two or more of them, insignia worn by members of a secret Theosophical society. If that is the case, Marmaduke and Shelmadine would have been acquainted, but not necessarily for criminal purposes. As yet," Ramses finished, "there is not enough evidence to substantiate this hypothesis, but it is as reasonable as any other, as I am sure you would all agree."
Emerson returned his gaze to me. We looked into one another's eyes. Our lips parted. We spoke as one.
"I was about to propose that hypothesis myself."
"It was on the tip of my tongue."
"It wasn't on mine," Nefret admitted. "But it is plausible, and it is substantiated by Signor Riccetti's statement that there are those who would aid us if they could. If the Theosophists are as harmless and high-minded as Ramses says they are—"
"High-minded individuals are much more dangerous than criminals," Emerson growled. "They can always find hypocritical excuses for committing acts of violence."
He had the last word. The servants began serving dinner; some of them understood English and it seemed advisable to drop the subject.
Except for confirming my story, Evelyn had said very little. I was anxious to hear her theories, for I had come to have considerable respect for her ability at ratiocination. However, it had been a long hard day for her and Walter, and I decided they had better go directly to bed after we finished our coffee. As Evelyn followed her limping spouse toward their room I presented her with a bottle of liniment.
"It is obvious from the way he moves that Walter has not been on horseback for months, Evelyn. He will be stiff as a mummy tomorrow morning if you don't use this. Rub it in well, especially on the—er—lower limbs."
She thanked me and bade me good night.
The room was rather small and the bed was narrow. But I pinned my hopes on the liniment.
