Part 24 (2/2)
My poor head gave a great throb. I had forgotten about Sennia, bright as a new penny and as ” 'quisitive” as the elephant's child. How much had I told her? How much should I tell her? She had met Maryam when Maryam was Molly. She had encountered Sethos, not as Major Hamilton but as ”Cousin Ismail” . . . I gave it up.
”How do you know we are expecting guests?” I inquired feebly.
Sennia was a trifle vain and always insisted on dressing in her best for tea. She smoothed her ruffled skirt and rolled her eyes. ”Fatima told me. Who are they? Is one of them Mr. Badger from the aeroplane?”
”It is a surprise,” I said, since I had not the least idea what Sethos would look like or what he would call himself. Surely she wouldn't remember or recognize ”Cousin Ismail.”
Knowing Sethos's penchant for dramatic epiphanies-the aeroplane was certainly the most impressive to date-I might have expected he would wait until he had a large audience before he presented himself. We saw the carriage coming some distance away; it was the best of those for hire at the landing. It drew up with a flourish in front of the house, and Sethos got out. Then he swooped like a hawk on Davy, who was scuttling as fast as his fat legs could carry him toward the motorcar. The child was absolutely uncanny. I had just that moment opened the door.
Sethos held the little boy up so that their eyes were on a level. ”And who is this adventurous young man?” he inquired. Davy giggled.
The little rascal had got us over the first awkwardness. Sethos handed Davy over to Ramses and helped Maryam out of the carriage, while the rest of us fended off the other children. They immediately gathered round Sethos; Davy was captivated by his new acquaintance, and the little girls responded as all females did to his calculated charm.
”What happened to your face?” inquired Evvie, leaning against his knee. ”Did someone hit you?”
”Three someones,” said Sethos, without missing a beat. ”Three large, cruel men. They were about to hurt a poor cat. I made them stop.”
The twins chirped approvingly and Evvie batted her lashes at him. ”Where is the kitty?”
”At my house. I am calling her Florence. She has black stripes and a white front.”
”That was very n.o.ble of you, sir,” said Dolly.
Sethos's face softened a trifle as he looked at the little boy. ”You must be young Abdullah. I knew your great-grandfather well. He would have done the same.”
”Why don't you all draw a picture of Florence?” I suggested, glaring at my inventive brother-in-law. Abdullah had hated cats.
The pack dispersed, except for Sennia. ”Was that a true story?” she asked, fixing Sethos with a questioning stare.
”Not a word of it,” said Sethos promptly.
Sennia chortled. ”You are funny. Who are you, really? Are you her father? I remember her; she was here a long time ago.”
She gestured at Maryam, who was sitting next to Evelyn. The girl was wearing the hat I had given her, and a new frock-the best Luxor had to offer, one must a.s.sume-of pink mousseline de soie. Papa had taken her shopping.
”Why don't you go and introduce yourself?” I suggested.
General conversation was impossible with so large a group. It did not take Sethos long to maneuver himself into a tete-a-tete with me, while Maryam responded shyly to Evelyn's kindly questions, and the children set to work on innumerable drawings of presumed felines. The tete-a-tete was immediately expanded by Emerson, who squeezed himself onto the settee next to me and fixed stern sapphirine orbs upon Sethos.
”You are awaiting my report, I suppose,” the latter said.
”I am awaiting elucidation of precisely who everyone in Luxor believes you to be,” I replied. ”What did you tell Mrs. Fitzroyce?”
”I did not meet her.” Sethos leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. ”Two husky lads intercepted me at the head of the gangplank. When I handed over my card I was informed that the Sitt was resting but that the other lady was expecting me. I wasn't allowed onto the boat. Maryam appeared with her pathetic little bundles and we left.”
”Then you did not meet Justin?”
”I caught a glimpse of him, peering out from the doorway to the cabins. At least I a.s.sume it was he; he appeared as wary as a timid animal, so I pretended I hadn't seen him.”
”What card did you leave?” I asked.
”That of Major Hamilton, of course. I always carry a selection.”
”Ha,” said Emerson. ”The Vandergelts know your real ident.i.ty.”
”I suppose there is no way of avoiding them,” Sethos said with a martyred sigh.
”I don't see how you can be ready to leave Luxor for a few more days,” I said. ”The Vandergelts are giving a soiree on Sunday, and Selim will expect you to turn up for his fantasia tomorrow.”
Sethos groaned theatrically. ”Must I?”
”You sound like Emerson,” I said, wondering if he was doing it on purpose to annoy. ”It would be advisable to give the impression that this is an ordinary visit from an old acquaintance. Your habit of popping in and out in various bizarre costumes, like the Demon King in a pantomime, makes things very difficult.”
”But much more interesting, Amelia dear.”
WE LINGERED OVER FATIMA'S EXCELLENT dinner, for everyone was on his or her best behavior, and Sethos exerted himself to be agreeable. I was about to suggest we withdraw to the parlor when a visitor was announced. I had been half-expecting him, for nothing is a secret in Luxor.
”Show Mr. Vandergelt into the parlor,” I said to Gargery. ”And make sure there is plenty of whiskey.”
Cyrus was too much of a gentleman to forget apologies and greetings, but even these held an element of reproach.
”I figured the fella in the aeroplane was you,” he said, shaking Sethos's hand. ”I'd have called earlier, if anybody had bothered to tell me you were here. What are you gonna do next, ride in on an elephant?”
”Whiskey, Cyrus?” I inquired.
”I reckon. Thank you.” He tugged fretfully at his goatee and turned reproachful eyes on me. ”How come I have to hear all the news secondhand? Don't you folks trust me anymore?”
”Er, hmph,” said Emerson, busy with the decanters. ”The fact is . . . er . . .”
”There hasn't been time,” Nefret said. She perched on a ha.s.sock beside Cyrus and put a caressing hand over his. ”You've heard about the identification of the bones? Don't be angry, Cyrus dear. We would have notified you at once if we had found the princesses' jewels.”
”You think I'm pretty selfish, I guess,” Cyrus muttered. ”That poor devil, out there all this time, and me thinking the worst of him . . .”
”This discovery alters neither the circ.u.mstances nor your a.s.sessment of Martinelli, Cyrus,” I said. ”He took the jewelry, there can be little question of that, and although we may never know his motive for doing so, he had no right to remove it without your permission.”
”You're sure it was him? Where was he found?”
”If you are thinking of conducting a search of the area, I beg you to abandon the idea,” Ramses said; like myself he had seen the stubborn glow of archaeological greed in Cyrus's eyes. ”Believe me, Cyrus, I would have done so myself if I believed there was the least likelihood of finding the jewelry. It was Martinelli, all right, but if he wasn't murdered and robbed, the men who found the body would have taken anything of value.”
Cyrus knew he was right, but he was not the man to abandon hope so easily. He kept asking questions and proposing theories. His final appeal was to Sethos.
”Can't you do anything?”
The corners of Sethos's mouth twitched slightly. ”Not much use having a master thief as a friend of the family if he can't help out, eh?”
”I didn't mean-” Cyrus began.
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