Part 51 (1/2)

Would it were so! But I had my doubts. I had never been able to talk sense into Emerson so easily.

Additional food for thought had been provided by the letters I found waiting. Cyrus's messenger, hearing of our imminent return from the wadi, had delivered them to my room. I postponed the pleasure of reading Ramses's latest epistle until after I had read the others, for I had no reason to suppose it would ease my mind.

A brief note from Howard Carter in Luxor informed me that the town was swarming with journalists who pursued him and our other friends demanding interviews. ”I was in the Hypostyle Hall at Karnak yesterday,” he wrote, ”when a head popped out from behind one of the columns and a voice shouted, 'Is it true, Mr. Carter, that Mrs. Emerson broke two of her umbrellas during the rescue of her husband?'

I shouted back a denial, of course, but prepare yourself, Mrs. E., for the worst excesses of journalistic fiction. I expect, however, you are accustomed to that.”

Messages from friends in Cairo reported equally infuriating a.s.saults and even more insulting rumors.

The letter from Sir Evelyn Baring's secretary-to which he had added a solicitous (and obviously bewildered) note in his own hand-held more comfort. It had been impossible to locate in such a short time all the individuals on the list I had sent, but investigations were proceeding, and as I studied the annotations that had been made I began to wonder if my theory might not be in error after all. Those former enemies of ours who had been incarcerated were still in their cells. Ahmet the Louse had turned up in the Thames some months earlier. I was not surprised a user of and dealer in opium does not have a long life expectancy. That left ... I counted . . six. There was no guarantee that all six of them were not on our trail, but the reduction of the numbers gave me an illogical sense of encouragement. It could not be put off any longer. With a sigh, I opened Ramses's letter.

Dearest Mama and Papa, I have come to the conclusion that my talents lie in the intellectual rather than the physical sphere, for the present at least. It is some consolation to realize that my physical inadequacies will improve to some extent through the natural process of time-or to put it in more colloquial terms, when I grow up. I dare not hope I will ever attain the degree of strength and ferocity that distinguishes Papa, however, what natural talents I possess can be increased by constant exercise and the practice of particular skills. I have already begun this regimen and intend to continue it.

An icy chill seized my limbs. I was unable to cherish any delusions concerning the kind of skills Ramses had in mind. Most of them involved the propulsion of sharp or explosive missiles. It was probably just as well that there was no whiskey in the room and that my foot was too sore to enable me to go as far as the saloon. Like Cyrus, I was beginning to understand how an individual can be driven to drink.

I forced myself to go on reading, wondering when, if ever, Ramses would get to the point.

I must confess, since honesty is a virtue Mama has always attempted to instill in me (though there are times when I suspect it does more harm than good), that I was not the sole originator of the scheme which will, I hope, offer a solution to our present difficulties. The inspiration came from an unexpected source. I have encountered several unexpected sources in the past weeks and I hope I have been cured of my preconceptions along that line, though, as I have said, I look forward to discussing this absorbing subject with you at a future date.

But allow me to describe the event in proper order, as Mama would approve.

Thanks to Aunt Evelyn's gentle intervention on my behalf, I was only restricted to my room for twenty-four hours. Once released, I found myself rather at loose ends. The boys, as you know, are at school. Nefret was reading Pride and Prejudice and was quite absorbed in what has always struck me as a rather silly story. The ladies with whom I am acquainted are not at all like the ones in the book. Little Amelia very kindly offered to play Parcheesi with me, but I was not in the mood for juvenile companions.h.i.+p. (Do not fear, Mama, I was very polite. I would not hurt the dear child's feelings for the world.)

Ordinarily I would have gone to the library to pursue my researches into Egyptian grammar, but it seemed the better part of wisdom to stay out of Uncle Walter's way for a while. I therefore proceeded to Aunt Evelyn's sitting room, with the intention of making further inquiries (in the most tactful manner, I need not say) as to why she possessed a large black parasol.

She was not there, but Rose was tidying the room. I offered to help her with the dusting but she declined quite decidedly. She had no objection to engaging in conversation, however.

The exciting events of the last night but one were of course foremost in both our minds. I had already told Rose all about it but she asked to hear it again, so I willingly obliged. (She did not know why Aunt Evelyn had the parasol either, and refused to speculate.) The subject to which she kept returning was the reprehensible behavior of Ellis. She does not get on with Ellis, as I believe I told you. Ellis is quite a lot younger than Rose. She is thinner than Rose too, and has bright-yellow hair. I do not know what, if anything, these facts have to do with Rose not getting on with Ellis. I make note of them only as a matter of information.

”No better than she should be,” said Rose with a sniff. ”I told Miss Evelyn she wouldn't do.

I know her kind.”

”What kind is that?” I inquired.

Before she could answer, supposing she had intended to, Aunt Evelyn entered. She beckoned me to join her on the sofa- which I was happy to do- and took out her embroidery. It gave me a strange feeling to see her sitting there, as neat and quiet as a lady in a painting, when I remembered the fierce warrior maiden of the other night.

”Don't let me interrupt your conversation,” she said in her soft voice. ”I know you two enjoy talking together I pray go on as if I were not here.”

”We were talking about Ellis,” I said. ”Rose knows her kind. I was endeavoring to discover what kind she meant.”

Rose turned very red and began polis.h.i.+ng the tea table vigorously.

”Rose, Rose,” said Aunt Evelyn gently. ”You must not be so uncharitable.”

I do not know what it was that emboldened Rose to speak. Usually she just mumbles, ”Yes, madam,” and shoves the furniture around. I can only attribute her candor on this occasion to one of those premonitions Mama and I, and apparently others, occasionally have.

She was still very red in the face but she spoke up stoutly. ”Excuse me, Miss Evelyn, but I think you ought to know. She's always sneaking and prying. I caught her coming out of Master Ramses's room one day. She's no business there, as you know, madam. Master Ramses's room is my job. And what was she doing out of the house at that hour of the night, if I may ask”

It was quite uncanny, Mama and Papa, how it struck all of us at the same moment. We gazed on one another with a wild surmise. Only it was not really wild at all. Aunt Evelyn was the first to speak.

”Master Ramses's room, you said, Rose? What could she have wanted there?”