The Hippopotamus Pool (24 page)

"Amelia, we have been over this at least a dozen times since you read that note. What is the sense of speculating? We will learn the answer from Riccetti himself soon enough."

"Now, Emerson, you know that is not true. He will tell us a pack of lies in order to mislead us. Misdirection is the reason for his invitation to us."

I had been included in that invitation. The realization of that quite removed any guilt I may have felt about reading someone else's letter— for if I had not done so, Emerson would not have told me what it said.

Emerson was still sulking and did not reply, so I continued. "It is a curious coincidence, don't you think, that Riccetti should come to Luxor immediately after we found the hippopotamus statue? Perhaps it was his quaint way of announcing his arrival."

As I had expected, this speech roused Emerson to fury, which, in my experience, is easier to deal with than sulking. "You are entirely too damned fond of curious coincidences, Amelia! He may have been here for weeks. As for the mystic import of hippopotami, I can only suppose that translating fairy tales has gone to your head. Why the devil ..."

And so on. The discussion kept him quite animated and happy for the duration of the voyage. I leaned against his shoulder and enjoyed the view.

Riccetti had asked us to dine with him at the Luxor. He was already there when we arrived, the focus of all eyes. Except for the waiters in their tarbooshes and red slippers, the dining salon of the Luxor might have been located in any English hotel, with its damask tablecloths and serviettes, crystal glasses and fine china, and patrons wearing conventional European evening dress. Riccetti stood out in that setting like a buzzard in a cage of sparrows. The presence of the two guards, motionless as statues behind him, lent a particularly exotic touch. He had been given one of the best tables, in a corner near the windows, and when he saw us he raised an arm in greeting. The staring eyes swung toward us as if moved by a single spring.

Lecturing me had put Emerson into a (relatively) amiable mood. He allowed Riccetti to complete his apology to me for his failure to rise ("The infirmities of age, Mrs. Emerson") before planting his elbows on the table and remarking, "Let us get to the point, Riccetti. I have no intention of breaking bread with you or allowing my wife to remain in your presence for any longer than I must. Amelia, don't touch that wine!"

"But my friends," Riccetti exclaimed. "How can I drink a toast to your success if you will not join me in a glass?"

"So you know we have located the tomb," I said.

"All Luxor knows. It came as no surprise to me, of course. I had the greatest confidence in your abilities."

"You did not ask us here to congratulate us," Emerson snapped. "What are you after?"

"Now, Emerson," I said, "I am in complete agreement with you about prolonging this interview unnecessarily, but you are not asking the right questions. Signor Riccetti will only ramble on about renewing old acquaintances and the pleasure of our company. Let me handle this. Signor, how long have you been in Luxor?"

Riccetti had listened with interest. Now he displayed all his saurian teeth in a wide satirical grin. "I would not be lying, Mrs. Emerson, if I claimed that I greatly enjoy the pleasure of
your
company. How can I refuse to play a little game of question and answer with so charming a lady? I arrived here eight days ago, on the Cook's steamer the
Ramses.
I found the name particularly symbolic."

"And what have you . .. No, that is not specific enough. Have you spoken with Ali Murad?"

"I visited his shop on Tuesday last. I always visit the antiquities dealers, in the hope of augmenting my little collection."

"You have a collection of antiquities?"

"A few modest odds and ends. Someday, if you will do me the honor, I would like to show it to you."

Emerson began, "I will be damned—"

"Hush, Emerson. I admit I wandered from the subject. I will return to it. Do you know, signor, that Mr. Shelmadine is dead?

Riccetti bared a few more teeth. "My dear Mrs. Emerson, it was I who took the liberty of informing you of that fact—or rather, of sending you" the clipping from the Cairo newspaper. I was certain your quick wits would arrive at the inevitable conclusion."

"Did you murder him?"

Riccetti appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. His jaws gaped wider, displaying an astonishing collection of dentures. "No, Mrs. Emerson, I did not."

I tried another tack. "Since you have been in Luxor have you visited Abd el Hamed?"

"Alas," said Riccetti with a hypocritical sigh. "I have been unable to visit my old friend Hamed. My increasing infirmities, Mrs. Emerson."

"Was it your men who left the statue of the hippopotamus goddess in the tomb?"

Riccetti's eyes widened and I thought for a moment that I had caught him off guard. Then he broke into a bellow of laughter. Every glass on the table quivered, and every head in the dining salon turned.

Riccetti laughed till tears filled his eyes. Wiping them on a napkin, he gasped, "Ah, bravissima! Che donna prodigiosa! Emerson, old friend, she is superb. I congratulate you."

"Another such reference to my wife," said Emerson between his teeth, "and I will knock you out of your chair."

"Mille pardone! I misunderstood. The British sense of humor has always been a mystery to me." He was not laughing now. "Let me understand your question, Mrs. Emerson. You seem to be suggesting that someone has—shall we say, inserted?—an object into the tomb in recent days. I assure you it was not I. The farthest thing from my mind is to interfere with your work."

"Oh, balderdash!" Emerson burst out. "I know your real reason for coming to Luxor, Riccetti. You intend to reestablish your control over the antiquities market here. You lost it ten years ago to another, more skillful player. He is gone now, and the position is again open. I am uncertain as to whether you have competitors, or who they may be; frankly, I don't give a damn. I will crush anyone, including you, who attempts to harm my family and friends, or who interferes with my work."

Riccetti's teeth had vanished behind tightened lips. They parted only enough to articulate the words. "How many friends do you have, Father of Curses?"

"Oh, good Gad," said Emerson. "I haven't the time to exchange enigmatic innuendoes with you. If you have anything sensible to say ... I thought not. Come along, Amelia."

When we reached the street Emerson shook himself vigorously. "Being in that villain's presence always makes me feel as if I were covered with crawling insects," he remarked. "What do you say we drop by Rohrmoser's for a glass of beer and some supper? I am feeling a trifle peckish."

       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.