Part 18 (1/2)

David nodded without speaking, his dark eyes cool. Nefret must have told him the ident.i.ty of the visitor.

”This is my uncle, Mr. Walter Emerson. I would introduce you formally if I knew what name you are currently using,” said Ramses.

A fleeting, tight-lipped smile acknowledged the gibe. ”Smith will do. Good afternoon, Mr. Emerson.”

”And I am Sennia Emerson,” said that young person, holding her skirts and curtsying. ”You have heard of me, I expect.”

”Yes-quite-er-how do you do?”

”Very well, thank you. And you?”

”Sit down, Sennia,” Ramses said somewhat sharply. ”A gentleman remains standing until all the ladies present have seated themselves.”

This was actually directed at Nefret, who stood clutching the twins like Niobe trying to protect her children from the deadly arrows of Apollo and Diana. She flushed and sank onto the settee next to Lia.

”Tea, everyone?” I asked.

Ramses came to take the cups as I filled them. ”I presume you have a reason for this?” he inquired sotto voce.

”I always have at least one reason. Now that he has been thrown off-balance by the dear children, I may be able to get a few sensible answers out of him.”

Having dispensed the genial beverage and asked Sennia to pa.s.s the biscuits round, I cleared my throat. ”Mr. Smith came to bring us news of our kinsman. He has been ill, but is recovering.”

”Malaria again?” Nefret asked, professional interest overcoming maternal protectiveness.

”No. He suffered certain injuries. Nothing serious.”

Walter had been thinking it over. In describing Sethos's wartime activities to him we had not mentioned Smith, but Walter's a.n.a.lytical mind was quick to make the connection. ”What is his name?”

”I beg your pardon?” Smith turned those gimlet eyes on him.

”I gather that he works for you, or with you, or under your direction, in a certain governmental agency,” said Walter, unintimidated by the stare. ”I cannot believe the British bureaucracy would employ a man without investigating every detail of his past life-including his name.”

The question seemed to arouse Smith's usually dormant sense of humor. His eyes narrowed, wrinkles fanning out at the corners. ”None of you know? Well, well. If he has not seen fit to tell you, it would not be right for me to betray his confidence.”

”Where is he?” Ramses asked.

”Just a moment, please,” I said, with a warning frown at my son. ”Sennia, dear, would you take the children to their little corner and give them their paper and crayons? Thank you. Very well, Mr. Smith, you may answer Ramses's question.”

”I fear I am unable to do so.”

”Because you cannot or because you will not?” Nefret leaned forward, hands tightly clasped. ”Frankly, I don't care what he has done. The war is over and if Sethos is back into the antiquities business, he's on his own. You can't expect Ramses-”

”I beg your pardon for interrupting, Nefret,” Ramses said.

”I beg your pardon.” She sat back, clasping her hands.

The exchange had amused Smith. He would find differences of opinion amusing-and potentially useful. ”I don't expect your husband to do anything,” he said smoothly. ”There's no denying that his talents could be useful; intelligence gathering does not end with an armistice, and the Middle East and Egypt are potential powder kegs.”

”Thanks to our incoherent and devious policies,” said Emerson. ”There is a flagrant contradiction between the principle of self-determination, which we support in theory, and the politics we practice. France won't give up Syria, and we won't give up Egypt, and we've promised Palestine to both the Zionists and the Arabs.”

”Some would claim that the natives of those areas are not capable of self-government,” Smith said.

He was trying to egg Emerson on. It is not difficult. ”Ha,” exclaimed my spouse. ”Oh, I admit we've done better by Egypt than some occupying powers might have done, but it's time we got the h.e.l.l out and let the Egyptians work out their own destiny. Who are we to look down on them? Our great Western, Christian civilization has burned people alive, forced them into ghettos, seized their territory by guile or by force-and we've just fought the bloodiest war in history.”

”Our guest is not interested in your views, Emerson,” I said, watching Smith.

”Oh, I am, Mrs. Emerson. Very much interested. I trust that the Professor's sympathy with various Nationalist aspirations would not prevent him from notifying Cairo should he learn of plans for rioting in Upper Egypt.”

”None of us believe in violence,” said Ramses, whose eyes, like mine, were fixed on the bland countenance of Mr. Smith. ”As you ought to be well aware. What are you driving at, Smith?”

”Charla is eating her crayon,” said Evvie.

The evidence certainly seemed to point that way. Charla's crayon was now a stump and her pursed mouth strongly suggested that the pretty red object hadn't tasted as good as she had expected. Ramses rushed over and s.n.a.t.c.hed his daughter up. ”Spit it out,” he ordered. ”This minute!”

”I told her not to do it,” said Evvie self-righteously.

Ramses inserted a finger into Charla's mouth. ”What's in the d.a.m.ned things? Are they poisonous? Ouch! Mother, can you make her-”

”That is not the way to go about it,” I said. ”Give her to me.”

I turned Charla over my arm and smacked her hard between the shoulderblades. A shower of repellent fragments flew out. Most of them landed on Mr. Smith's neatly pressed flannels. Inspecting the pieces, I remarked, ”I don't believe she swallowed any of it. We'll just make sure, shall we, Nefret?”

”I can manage,” Nefret said, s.n.a.t.c.hing the squirming child from me. ”Ramses, will you give me a hand?”

”What are you going to do?” Emerson demanded in alarm.

”Believe me, my dear, you don't want to know,” I a.s.sured him.

They went off with Charla, who was protesting volubly if unintelligibly.

”Good Gad!” Emerson exclaimed. ”You don't mean . . . Poor little creature!”

”It isn't the first time,” I said. ”She is one of those children-endlessly inquisitive and too young to understand the consequences-who employs all her senses to investigate the world. One day she may be a distinguished scientist, if we can prevent her from poisoning herself before she reaches the age of reason. Mr. Smith, I am so sorry about your nice trousers. I suggest you allow the bits to dry before you brush them off.”

He had already tried. The result was very nasty and the stains, I felt sure, were indelible.

”A small price to pay for this delightful glimpse into family life,” said Smith, with a conspicuous absence of sincerity. ”However, I must go. I am taking the night train to Cairo. Good-bye to you all, and thank you for your-er-charming hospitality.”

”Emerson and I will escort you to your carriage,” I said.

Smith watched me undo the bolts and hooks. ”I trust,” he said in a low voice, ”that these precautions have not been taken in expectation of danger? You know you have only to ask us for a.s.sistance.”

”The bars and bolts are not to keep enemies out, but to keep the children in.” I captured Davy, who tried to look as if getting out the door had been the last thing on his mind. The wide blue eyes and golden curls and angelic smile would have deceived anyone but an experienced grandmother. I handed him over to Evelyn.

”I heard about the motorcar in Luxor,” said Smith, stopping to inspect it. ”It is the talk of the town. As is your little accident last night. It was an accident, wasn't it?”

”Stop fis.h.i.+ng, Mr. Smith,” I said, with perfect good humor. ”I suggest you send Sethos to us as soon as he can travel. He will recuperate more quickly in our care than in any hospital. You did forward our original message, I presume.”

”Yes, certainly. Who is the missing person?”