Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (33 page)

should not, cannot, apply to the relations between husband and wife." My attempt to put him on the defensive did not succeed, I am happy to say. I do not care for meekness in a husband, and Emerson is particularly handsome when he is in a rage. His cheeks turned a becoming shade of brick-red and the cleft in his chin vibrated. "Be damned to that," he said hotly. "His survival was a military secret, and furthermore, Amelia, it was none of your confounded business." I was about to reply, in equally heated terms, when Ramses cleared his throat. "Forgive me for interrupting, but that is beside the point now. You haven't heard the worst of it. We need your advice." The reminder was well-timed. I had not finished with Emerson by any means, but that discussion was best conducted in private. And when I heard "the worst of it," I could only agree that a council of war was badly needed. It had obviously come as a considerable relief to Emerson to learn that Sethos could not have been the man behind Sennia's abduction. I would never have believed him capable of such a thing, but evidently I had greater faith in Emerson's brother than he did. The knowledge that Sethos had resumed his criminal activities was disappointing but not wholly unexpected. The news that he was threatened by a ruthless new competitor aroused some concern, but was of interest primarily because it explained much that had been a mystery thus far. "The attacks on us in Cairo were meant to keep us there and induce Ramses to return," I said. "You remember, Emerson, that I remarked upon how ineffectual they were-" "We both remarked upon that," said Emerson, with a sour look at me. "I had begun to suspect-" "As had I, my dear. Poor Mr. Asad's death was the only real tragedy, and now we know why the body was brought to us. The killer obviously expected that when Ramses heard of it he would come rushing back to Cairo in order to wreak revenge-and defend us from danger." We had settled ourselves comfortably by then, Emerson smoking his pipe and Nefret curled up on the settee next to him. I smiled pleasantly at my son, who began to protest. "Now, Mother-" "You would have, you know. That is why I tried to keep the facts from you. But," I went on quickly, "I was wrong to do so. We were also wrong to divide our forces. Now that we are together again and in perfect confidence with one another, I do not doubt we can deal expeditiously with the remaining difficulties." Emerson opened his mouth, but his expression warned me that I had better go on talking. "I presume that before you removed your-er-guest you persuaded him to confide in you?" "Precisely what I was about to say," Emerson grunted. "What is it they are after? A new tomb, I suppose? It must be located in some relatively populous area or this fellow wouldn't be so determined to get you out of the way. Surely not the East Valley?" "Well reasoned, Father," Ramses said. "We had arrived at the same conclusion. It can't be anything but a tomb, and if the site were remote they could clear it without fear of interruption. This fellow-" "What do you call him?" I asked. Ramses looked blank. "We don't call him anything, Mother. We don't know who he is." "References to him would be simpler if we gave him a nom de guerre," I explained. Nefret chuckled. "Quite right. Would you consider 'X' too trite?" "We ought to be able to come up with something more inventive. One of the more unpleasant pharaohs, perhaps? Or el-Hakim, the crudest and most fanatical ruler of the Fatimite Dynasty?" "It is just like you, Amelia, to waste time on something so trivial," Emerson exclaimed. "Where is the damned tomb? The sooner we get at it and clear it-" "That's just the trouble," Nefret said. "Sethos claimed he doesn't know." Emerson jumped to his feet. "He lied. Just give me ten minutes with the bas-um-with him!" "I think he was speaking the truth, Father," Ramses said, glancing at his wife. "If you will allow me to continue, I'll tell you what he said." Sethos had admitted that when he returned to Egypt in September it was with every intention of resuming his former business activities. He had not been in communication with his old associates for several years, so he was surprised to learn from one of them that they had been expecting to hear from him since the previous spring. All the Cairo underworld knew that "the Master" had returned; one of the most notorious, a man named Mubashir, had boasted of having spoken with him. It was apparent that someone had taken advantage of his formidable reputation and habit of anonymity, for reasons which were not difficult to deduce. He was reluctant to approach Mubashir directly, so he decided to throw down the gauntlet, so to speak, by carrying out several thefts, including the robbery of Legrain's storage magazines and the removal of the statue of Ramses II. This had the desired effect of informing the impostor that a rival had appeared on the scene. It had the unfortunate effect of inspiring the impostor to violent attempts to remove the said rival. One could almost feel sorry for the bewildered criminals of Luxor. It did not take them long to realize there was not one Master, but two, since each of them was attempting to identify the other and claiming to be the true and original Master Criminal. Some had spoken with Sethos, some with the impostor, and they had no way of knowing which of the two was genuine. Recruitment suffered; the more cautious of the fellows refused to have anything to do with either. "It is still a mystery to me why, if this-er-whatever-hopes to become the new head of the illegal antiquities game, he hasn't stolen anything," Emerson said. "Apparently Sethos was responsible for the thefts of which we heard. Nothing of interest has come on the market recently. Why hasn't he begun removing smaller objects from the tomb, as the Abd er Rassuls did at Deir el Bahri?" "That is how the authorities caught up with the Rassuls," Ramses pointed out. "This fellow has probably learned from their mistake. If he can make a clean sweep of the place over a period of only a few days, he can be well away from here before the objects appear on the market, and leave no trail the police could follow. But at this point the very existence of such a tomb is pure conjecture. Sethos arrived at the same conclusions we did, on the basis of the same clues-or so he claims. If there is such a place, its location is known only to its discoverer. He'll need assistance when he removes the contents, but it is only common sense to confide in no one until that day conies." "Hmph," said Emerson round the stem of his pipe. A hail from Ashraf, standing guard at the gangplank, made me realize how much time had passed. "There is Cyrus's carriage come for us," I said. "We mustn't keep him waiting. Emerson, put your coat on. Ramses, are you ready, my dear?" Nefret ran off to get a wrap, and while the men collected their scattered garments I considered Sethos's story. It made perfectly good sense, but then I would have expected nothing less from my old adversary and present brother-in-law. Believing him dead, I had not had sufficient opportunity to adjust to that relationship. It would take some doing. The thought of seeing him again, as I meant to do next day, induced confused emotions-memories of long years of aggravation and impertinent advances, equally strong memories of his noble sacrifices for us and for his country. Apparently the latter sacrifice had been only a temporary arrangement. Mentally I added a new task to the list I had composed. Sethos would have to be reformed, and made to remain reformed. He could not be allowed to return to his old ways. There was one other little matter that was of equal importance, and I brought it up after we were on our way to the Castle. "It should not be difficult to identify el-Hakim. He is an archaeologist, not an Egyptian, and since there are only a few remaining in Luxor-" "Curse it, Amelia, there you go again!" Emerson shouted. "Stating as fact what is as yet only an unproved theory." I knew why he was in such an acrimonious frame of mind, so I replied calmly, "All the evidence points to that conclusion, my dear. This fellow would not be able to masquerade successfully as the Master had he not many of the latter's skills and attributes-including his ruthlessness. He has committed three murders-" "And tried to commit a fourth," said Nefret. "Yes." I turned to Ramses, who immediately assumed an expression of wary expectation. "I am not going to criticize you, my dear," I assured him. "I understand why you felt it necessary to divert attention from the presence of a guest aboard the Amelia, but-" "Speaking of that," Nefret said quickly. "We've been unable to think how to break it to Cyrus that he has an ailing sister." "Oh, dear," I murmured. "He's bound to hear of it sooner or later, I suppose." "We were counting on you, Mother," said my son, "to come up with a convincing explanation." "Lie, you mean," grunted Emerson. "That is your forte, Peabody. Well?" "Not now, Emerson, we have arrived. Just leave it to me." I was guilty of a slight amount of hubris when I implied that I had, on the spur of the moment, invented an explanation for a particularly inexplicable situation. However, I am accustomed to having such tasks thrust upon me and I did not doubt that, given sufficient time, a solution would come to me. Unfortunately, I was not given any time at all. Cyrus was waiting at the door to greet us, as was his hospitable habit. Hospitality was not his only aim, however; as the others passed on into the drawing room, he drew me aside. "All right, Amelia, what's going on?" Hoping he did not mean what I feared he meant, I attempted to equivocate. "I beg your pardon, Cyrus?" "How is Emmeline?" A grin spread across his lined countenance as he waited for an answer. None was immediately forthcoming. I defy any reader to produce one. "Selim was kind enough to ask after her," Cyrus went on. "He had heard from his Uncle Yusuf, who had heard from Jamil, who had heard from your steward about my poor sister. Sure came as a surprise to me that I had one." "What did you say to Selim?" I asked, still sparring for time. "Why, I thanked him for his interest. Who is the lady?" "Bless you, Cyrus! It is a somewhat-er-complicated story. I will explain it to you later. Katherine will be wondering what is keeping us, and Emerson-" "Tonight," Cyrus said firmly. "Yes, of course. Tonight." I hope I may not be accused of braggadocio when I say that by the time we joined the others I had arrived at the obvious solution. Having cleared my mind of that matter, I was able to concentrate on my suspects. We were quite a large party in ourselves, but Cyrus enjoyed nothing more than seeing every seat at his dining table occupied. He had only managed to collect two other guests that evening: Mr. Barton, who had been persuaded (without difficulty) to stay to dine after giving Bertie his lesson in hieroglyphs, and Mr. MacKay, whom Cyrus had caught on his way home from the Valley. Owing to the impromptu nature of the gathering (and Emerson's well-known aversion to evening dress), attire was casual and so was conversation. Emerson did most of the talking, so I was able to study my suspects-three of them, including William. I was acquainted with MacKay, but I had not met Mr. Barton. The poor lad was not prepossessing. His features were roughhewn and his movements awkward. Some of the awkwardness might have been occasioned by the fact that he never took his eyes off Nefret, which rendered the neat consumption of food and drink difficult. Sentimentality and youth were irrelevant, of course; I had known a number of criminals with those characteristics. His relative lack of experience in the field might suggest that he was unlikely to have discovered a new tomb, but such discoveries are often serendipitous. It was safe to assume that he was familiar with the name and career of Sethos; that gentleman's exploits (along with our own) had become part of the legendry of Egyptology. Mr. Barton appeared to have a solid alibi for at least one incident. He had been with Nefret and Ramses when the body fell from the cliff, so it could not have been he who pushed it off. However, I was not prepared to accept unquestioningly Ramses's belief that the man had been deliberately murdered. I respect my son's acumen, but he is sometimes mistaken. In fact, I could think of no sensible reason why anyone-Bedouin, Senussi, Turk, or tomb robber-would drop a rock and then a body on Ramses. It could not have anything to do with the matter of the missing tomb. It must have been an accident. And therefore Mr. Barton was still a suspect. I transferred my attention to Mr. MacKay, who was talking to Cyrus about the Valley of the Kings. He had been in Egypt longer than Barton and was reputed to know every square foot of the Valley. If the tomb was there, he was the most likely person to have come upon it. The other considerations I have mentioned applied equally well to him. I knew nothing to his discredit-indeed, his reputation was of the best-but even the most honest scholar might be seduced by a discovery as rich as this one could be. William Amherst-shy, harmless William-had been in Cairo when the attacks on us took place. To be sure, he had not been in Luxor when Sethos and Ramses were attacked. The reverse was true of the others ... but was it? I would have to find out. Another possibility was that there were two people involved, one in Luxor, one in Cairo. The more I thought about that, the more likely it seemed. William had come to us seeking a position on our staff after Ramses left for Luxor. He had been in Egypt for many years and had worked with Cyrus in the Valley and at other sites. His career had not been particularly successful; his self-confidence had been eroded and his means were limited. He admitted to having been in Luxor, among other places, the previous year. Was his seemingly candid admission of moral collapse following his alleged attempt to enlist a way of concealing his true activities? William began to squirm and look nervously at me, so I turned to Bertie, who was on my left, and asked him how he was getting on with his studies. The conversation had already taken an archaeological turn; poor Katherine was the only one present who had not a consuming interest in the subject, but she had become accustomed to enduring such discussions with a courteous appearance of interest, and she was anxious to encourage Bertie. I joined in at appropriate intervals, but never believe, Reader, that I had lost sight of what must be, for a time, my primary consideration. Deduction alone might lead us to discovering the identity of our unknown opponent, but if we could induce him to seek us out it would save time and trouble. I was considering ways of doing this when a chance question from Mr. MacKay gave me the opportunity. It was only a