The Hippopotamus Pool (38 page)

"You don't suspect me of prevarication, I hope? Or of imagining things?"

"You, imagining things?" Smiling, Cyras stroked his goatee. Then he sobered. "I can't rightly accuse you of making up stories when I've seen with my own eyes the kinds of peculiar adventures you get yourself into. I can't for the life of me figger out how you do it."

"There is, I believe, something called a nose for news, Cyrus. Perhaps I have a nose for crime! And Emerson has—"

"A way of getting folks riled up. All right, ma'am, you know you can count on Cyrus Vandergelt through thick and thin, with a shovel or a six-shooter. You just tell me what I can do to help."

"I am counting on you, Cyrus, and I do need your help. I want you to watch Miss Marmaduke. You can trust your servants? Excellent. Any messages she sends must be brought to you, any visitors noted, all her actions observed."

Cyrus stumbled again. "Are you serious? That silly young woman? She's the most harmless-looking creature I ever saw."

I described Gertrude's reaction to my announcement, and her hasty departure from the house. Cyrus tugged at his goatee and looked grave. "I told her the carriage was at her disposal. No reason why she shouldn't decide to go shopping or sightseeing, I guess, but ... All right, I'll do as you say."

We parted at the Castle; Cyrus, eager as a boy, went running off to the stable while I remounted and rode to the ferry, where I left my horse. Once on the East Bank I kept a sharp eye out for Miss Marmaduke, but saw no sign of her; she had been a good hour ahead of me, and might by now have completed her errand—whatever it was. After telegraphing to M. Maspero, I proceeded, still on the qui vive, to the Luxor hotel.

I had to detach Kevin from the
Times
and the
Mirror,
who were helping him celebrate his recovery by consuming copious quantities of beer in the bar of the hotel. Regrettably, I was forced to resort to underhanded means in order to do this, for they paid no attention to my hints that they should go away. Looking around in hope of inspiration, I saw the widow lady in black enter the lobby, leaning on the arm of her nurse.

Indicating the two women, I inquired of the
Times
in a thrilling whisper, "Is it true that the Duchess is suspected of having murdered her husband?"

Kevin, who knew me well, did not follow his fellow journalists when they rushed after their new victim.

"What are you up to now, Mrs. E.?" he asked.

"I haven't time to explain, Kevin. Excuse yourself to your friends, retire to your room, creep away unobserved, and come across to the tomb. If both or either of them succeed in following you, you won't have an exclusive."

"Say no more, ma'am," Kevin cried, eyes alight with professional fervor.

I said no more.

There were several other inquiries I wanted badly to pursue, but I dared not linger in Luxor; if I did not prepare Emerson for Kevin's arrival, a certain degree of unpleasantness might ensue.

After climbing over a wall at the back of the hotel, I decided to take a circuitous route back to the riverbank in order to throw off possible pursuers—including the
Times
and the
Mirror.
Although the increase in the tourist trade has brought about considerable improvement, parts of the old village of Luxor are unchanged even today. The narrow winding alleys, half blocked with stones and littered with trash and animal refuse, made it a perfect place for hide-and-seek, and I doubted the
Times
would risk dirtying his polished boots.

After proceeding some distance without observing signs of pursuit, I was about to turn back when something caught my eye, through the ears of a donkey who had decided to stop still in the middle of the lane. The configuration of the stooped body was familiar—but surely Abd el Hamel's rheumatic-ridden frame was not capable of such lizardlike speed?

Becoming impatient, the donkey driver brought his stick down on the poor animal's flanks, and I was forced to speak firmly with him. By the time we had settled the matter and the donkey had moved on, Abd el Hamel—if it was he—had disappeared.

I decided to walk on a little farther. The narrow way appeared to end just ahead, but when I reached that point I saw that it turned, abruptly and without apparent reason, into a slightly wider thoroughfare lined with tall old houses. There was no sign of the figure I had seen, and when I had gone another fifty feet I found that this street did end, in a cul-de-sac closed by a high wall.

I decided I had wasted enough time on a pointless investigation, so I turned and retraced my steps. I had got about halfway to the turn in the path when the door of one of the houses opened, and a very large individual stepped out.

He made no threatening move. He simply stood there, staring at me; but he was large enough to bar my path.

The poor fellow must be deficient in intelligence, I thought sympathetically—a child in the body of a (very large) man—for his look held more of apprehension than menace. This proved to be the case. When I raisedmy parasol and walked toward him he let out a high-pitched cry and fled back into the house. I proceeded on my way and soon found myself at the riverbank and the ferry.

The sun had passed the zenith by the time I reached the tomb. I was relieved to see that despite the delay I was there before Kevin. The luncheon baskets I had ordered had come, but no one was at table except Evelyn and David, their heads together over a book. Evelyn was the only one to whom I had confided my plans. She had not been too pleased about them, and had even tried to dissuade me from "running all over the countryside alone," as she put it. When she saw me, she rose from her chair with an exclamation of relief. "Thank heaven you are safely returned, Amelia. You encountered no difficulty?"

"None at all, my dear. I told you there was no cause for concern. I suppose the others are still at work?"

"I tried to persuade Radcliffe to—"

"Evelyn."

"Yes, Amelia?"

"Emerson despises his given name. Passionately."

"I had no idea he felt so strongly about it," Evelyn exclaimed. "Walter calls him that, and since you use his surname as a term of affection, I thought it would be presumptuous of me to employ it. What shall I call him, then?"

"Emerson, of course. A number of other people call him that, including those who do not employ it as a term of affection. Just a little hint, my dear! I had better go up and insist they stop for a while, otherwise Emerson will drive them till they drop."

I have seldom seen such an unkempt group of individuals. All welcomed my interruption except Emerson, but he went when I told him to, moving like an automaton and mumbling to himself. I had to nudge him down the stairs. I believe it was not until after he had poured a pot of water over his head that he realized who I was. His eyes came back into focus and he exclaimed, "Where the devil have you been all this time?"

"Come and have luncheon and I will tell you everything."

I told him about Kevin first, since I anticipated that bit of news would be the most difficult for him to assimilate fully (and calmly). He received it better than I had expected.

"Offering him an exclusive is the best method of controlling him," he admitted. "And he will keep the other confounded journalists away. Where is he?"

"Eluding the other confounded journalists, I suppose," I replied. I had other reasons for wanting Kevin, but there was no point in mentioning them to Emerson. He would only have fussed.

We joined the others, who were sitting and lying about in various poses of exhaustion. Ramses was the only one who looked much as usual. He was filthy dirty, but that was normal, and his black curls only coiled tighter when they were wet. Nefret had unfastened the top two buttons of her blouse and pushed the sleeves up above the elbow. I could hardly scold her for wishing to be as comfortable as was possible under adverse conditions, but the effect was demoralizing; Cyrus kept glancing in her direction, and Sir Edward, gracefully reclining at her feet, could hardly keep his eyes off her.

Emerson reached for a sandwich. "Have you spoken with Carter?" he demanded of me.

"Confound it, I knew I had forgotten something. What with one thing and another—"

"What things?" Emerson demanded, his eyes narrowing.

I never allow Emerson to get me on the defensive. "Good heavens, my dear, I have already been to the Valley and to Luxor and back this morning. I will go looking for Howard as soon as we finish luncheon. It may take me a while to locate him."

"He is probably digging out that shaft near the causeway," Emerson grunted. "Waste of time. There is nothing of interest there. I need one of those gates of his. Tell him to fetch it here at once, I want it installed today, before I leave."

"Ah," I said, without commenting upon Emerson's autocratic demands and unreasonable expectations, "you are planning to return to the
Amelia
tonight?"

It really was pitiful to behold the struggle that raged in the heart and mind of my husband. Had there been no other distractions he would have camped on the spot until the tomb was cleared, no matter how long it took. But he was as aware as I of those distractions, and affection took precedence over even archaeological fever.

"I am," he said shortly. "So get at it, Peabody."

Walter cleared his throat. "Er—Radcliffe—you have already spoken with Mr. Carter. He came here earlier this morning, don't you remember?"

"What?" Emerson stared at him. "Oh. Oh, yes, so he did. I was trying to get that cursed grid laid out without damaging the ... Never mind, Peabody. Sir Edward, what are you lounging around for? I want to finish the photography."

There was no holding him, and I did not try to do so. Walter and Nefret accompanied the pair. Ramses remained where he was, cross-legged on the rug next to David. I turned an inquiring eye upon him.

"There is no need for any of us to be there, really," he said. "Except forNefret and"—a slight spasm that would have been imperceptible to any eyes but mine crossed his face—"and Sir Edward."

"You were only looking on this morning?" I asked. Looking on was not Ramses's forte.

"The fascination of the place and the procedures are difficult to ..." Ramses glanced at David, caught himself and started again. "It is very interesting. I learn from watching Father. But just now I felt it would be more useful for me to talk with you, Mother, about how your detectival (oh, curse it!) about what you have found out about our enemies."

"I was not pursuing detectival..." I could have sworn my pause brought a gleam of amusement to David's black eyes. I resumed somewhat stiffly, "All I did this morning was call on Mr. Vandergelt and Mr. O'Connell and send a telegram to M. Maspero."

"Ah," said Ramses. "You did not inquire at the hotels about Signor Riccetti?"

"There was no time." I hesitated, for a well-honed instinct told me it might not be advisable to inform Ramses of certain of my intentions. The sight of an approaching form urging its donkey to a rapid pace convinced me that reticence on one of those intentions would be useless. I had to tell Kevin what I wanted him to do, and Ramses would find out, one way or another.

"I am going to assign that task to Mr. O'Connell," I explained.

"Hmmm." Ramses rubbed his prominent chin. "Do you think that wise, Mother? Mr. O'Connell is certainly adept at pursuing impertinent inquiries, but he has not, in my opinion, the necessary talent for dissimulation."

"I believe, Ramses, I have mentioned before that I would prefer you refrained from using the phrase 'in my opinion.'"

"I beg your pardon." O'Connell was almost upon us. Ramses lowered his voice. "It could be dangerous, Mother."

I had considered this, of course. I made Kevin sit down and listen to me instead of rushing straightaway to the tomb; and while he finished the rest of the sandwiches I emphasized most strongly the necessity of caution.

Kevin's eyes gradually widened and he swallowed the wrong way once or twice. However, he is a quick young fellow, and he had participated in other cases of mine. By the time I finished he was grinning broadly.

"Ah, Mrs. Emerson, me dear, you never cease to amaze me. I would say that you are the light of me life if I did not suppose the Professor would take exception to such a remark, though it is intended, I assure you, in the most respectful—"

"Spare me your Hibernian effusions, Kevin. This is a serious matter and you must take it seriously. Take no chances. Follow no leads that take youinto solitary places. In fact, don't follow those leads at all! Just report to me."

Kevin cocked his head and looked at me askance, like a bright-eyed bird. "So that
you
can follow them into solitary places? Och, well, if the Professor can't stop you (and I know he cannot, for I have seen him try and fail) the admonitions of a friend will have no effect. Do take care, though, Mrs. E., will you?"

I was rather touched, for I thought he meant it. The softened look did not linger on his face, however; he gave himself a little shake, as if ashamed of his brief display of sentiment.

"So what do I get in return?" he asked, with his roguish journalist's grin.