David was asleep within minutes, breathing evenly. Ramses had a number of things on his mind, but he was not long in following his friend’s example. It was good to have David back.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “THAT RASCAL CARTER HAS PURCHASED A MOTORCAR,” EMERSON shouted. “Can you believe it?”

  Imposing as the statue of a Roman emperor, he stood with feet apart and arms akimbo, his bare black head dulled by a film of dust. Emerson’s commanding presence always attracts attention; this shout, delivered at the top of his lungs, made everyone on the station platform stare.

  “What sort of greeting is that?” I demanded, descending from the carriage with the help of Ramses. “Here we are, safely back with our dear guests, and you cannot even say you are glad to see them.”

  “Oh,” said Emerson. “Curse it, of course I am glad to see them. David, my boy! Sennia, my love, give me a kiss. Hallo, Gargery.”

  Everyone had come to meet us, including the twins. Like the little gentleman he was, David John gravely offered his hand to David, but Charla, held aloft in the strong arms of Daoud, was squirming and screaming like a banshee.

  “Emerson ought not have brought her,” I said to Ramses.

  “Charla can always talk him round,” Ramses said.

  “She can talk Daoud round too. Get hold of her, Ramses, and don’t let her wriggle away.”

  It wasn’t the easiest job in the world. After hugging her father passionately, as if he’d been away for a month instead of two days, Charla demanded to be put down. It was like trying to hold on to a large, undisciplined puppy. I considered, not for the first time, of equipping Charla with a leash and harness. Emerson had been outraged at the suggestion (and David John had smirked in a provocative fashion). Anyhow, Charla could probably unbuckle herself from any contrivance we could construct. Constant vigilance was the only defense. I certainly did not intend to let her run loose on the station platform, among the lemonade sellers and porters balancing heavy loads and a train on the verge of departure.

  I took the child from Ramses so that he could greet his wife. I was pleased to see him hold her close and whisper something that brought a smile to her face.

  “So what do you think of that?” Emerson demanded, hoisting Sennia onto his broad shoulders. “That villain Carter—”

  “You make it sound as if his sole motive was to annoy you,” I said.

  “What other reason could he have? Blatant imitation, that is what it is. A motorcar is of no use here.”

  Realizing he had left himself open to a caustic comment, he went on before I could deliver it. “Well, well, let’s get out of this crush, shall we? I don’t know why you want to stand round gossiping, Peabody, when our guests are anxious to get home.”

  Someone—probably Selim—had had the forethought to order several carriages for us and our luggage. We sorted ourselves out, and I found myself seated with Emerson and Daoud.

  Turning to the latter, I said, “I suppose it was you who found out about the motorcar.”

  Daoud beamed with pride. “It came on the train, and also a steel gate for the tomb.”

  The driver’s head was half-turned, listening avidly. Our old friend’s reputation as an all-knowing oracle had, if it was possible, increased over the past weeks. Some of the more superstitious workers believe he had supernatural means of information, but as we knew, he got most of his news from his son Sabir, who operated a successful boat service between the east and west banks. One might say that Sabir was an oracle in training, who made use of Daoud’s connections on both sides of the river.

  “Mr. Carter has returned, then?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. He went from the station to the dahabeeyah of the Breasted professor.”

  “So that is why they refused my invitation to tea,” I said thoughtfully. “Howard must have written Breasted telling him about the tomb and offering him a chance to participate—and warning him about us.”

  “I forbid you to repeat the invitation,” said Emerson fiercely.

  “I am not accustomed to putting myself forward, Emerson.”

  “I have noticed that, Peabody.”

  “When will Carter reopen the tomb?” I inquired.

  Daoud knew, of course. “Tomorrow, it is said. Callender Effendi has already begun removing the fill.”

  “Well, I don’t give a curse,” Emerson declared.

  Sabir’s boat was waiting at the riverfront; he had decorated it with fresh flowers and the ornate hangings usually reserved for festivals, and several other members of the family had accompanied him. Another round of salutations followed; the family thought highly of David, who was related to most of them, and they hadn’t seen him for some time. The celebration continued until we reached the house.

  By the time the newcomers had been welcomed by the household staff and the dog, Emerson was stamping with impatience. “Enough!” he shouted. “Fatima, stop fussing over Sennia and get luncheon started. By Gad, it has taken us two hours to get here from Luxor. Ridiculous. I haven’t had a chance to talk with David. My boy, you won’t believe what Howard Carter—”

  “Later,” I cut in. “They will want to tidy up and rest.”

  “I don’t want to rest,” Sennia said. “I want to see my rooms, and the Great Cat of Re.”

  She didn’t seem to be at all worried about Gargery’s melodramatic story. We had made light of it, and as I knew from my study of juvenile psychology (and years of painful experience), young persons are inclined to dismiss anything that does not affect them directly.

  “Take Gargery with you,” I ordered.

  “But, madam, I haven’t told the Professor about—”

  “Later! Get along with you, Gargery. David John, will you lend him your strong arm? Charla, see if you can find the cat. He is probably hiding under some article of furniture.”

  David John gravely extended a slender arm, and Gargery had tact enough to take it. It was amazing how much quieter it was with the four of them no longer present. Fatima had gone off with the children, so it was Kareem who brought the coffee tray. I managed to catch hold of it before he spilled much, and we settled down to a comfortable chat.

  “That was a painless way of removing the children, Mother,” Ramses said, laughing.

  “I believe I can claim to have a good understanding of juvenile psychol—juvenile human nature.”

  “The old rascal seems to have held up well,” Emerson said. “What was he talking about?”

  “In a nutshell,” said Ramses, “he disappeared from the hotel where we had told him to stay, and turned up at the railway station barely in time to catch the express.”

  “He’s becoming senile,” Emerson said, scowling darkly. “Curse it! We’ll have to watch over him as we would a child.”

  That certainly was the explanation that leaped to mind. Gargery’s tale sounded even more improbable when it was reduced to bare statements, which Ramses proceeded to do. “He said he’d been lured away by a false message, thrust into a carriage, and been held prisoner by two desperadoes. He was able to get away from them and made it to the station in the nick of time.”

  “What nonsense!” Emerson exclaimed. “He invented the story to excuse his lapse of memory and make himself look like a hero.”

  “That’s possible,” David said. “We have only his word.”

  “Quite,” said Emerson triumphantly. “What would have been the point of abducting him and then letting him go? As I was saying, David, Carter…”

  It was easy for Emerson to doubt Gargery’s tale. He hadn’t been there. I had. Certain of the details were probably untrue, such as his escape from several armed men, but it was unlikely that he had suffered a temporary lapse of memory and recovered from it just in time to reach the station before the train departed.

  Sethos finished his coffee and rose. “I’m sure David will find that fascinating. Ramses, may I have a word with you?”

  He gestured toward the door. Ramses followed him into the house. I followed Ramses, leaving Emerson complaining to David about Howard Carter, the tomb, and the motorcar.

  As I had expected, Sethos led the way to Ramses’s workroom. “We must have a council of war,” I announced.

  “Ah, Amelia,” said Sethos, attempting to appear surprised at my presence. “Do sit down. I presume you do not agree with Emerson that Gargery wandered off in a fit of senile dementia?”

  I waved my hand in dismissal. “Like so many of the others, this event was alarming but not really dangerous. I am becoming weary of these demonstrations. It is time we took action instead of reacting to the acts of others.”

  “As a general theory, it has a great deal to recommend it,” said Sethos. “What do you propose we do?”

  “Return the message,” Ramses said.

  “It certainly goes against the grain to do so,” I murmured. “And we dare not assume that it will satisfy their demands. Our vigilance must be increased, particularly with regard to the more vulnerable members of the family.”

  “So you think they took Gargery simply to prove that they could?” Sethos asked.

  “If they want to ensure our silence, they will need a hostage,” Ramses said. “Someone they think we value more than Gargery. In their eyes he is ‘only’ a servant. But then why bother demanding the return of the original message when they must have known we would have made copies?”

  I sniffed. “Distraction and confusion. Putting us off our guard. Forcing us to waste time looking for a clue that doesn’t exist. Who knows? At least we agree on one thing—we, all of us, must take extra care. I shall warn Cyrus to look after his family.”

  Leaning against the table, arms folded, Sethos shifted from one foot to the other. “What about Margaret?”

  “She’s been warned,” Ramses said. “She’ll have to take her chances.”

  “Now, my dear, you mustn’t be so harsh,” I said. “Perhaps I ought to have another little chat with Margaret.”

  “Invite her to tea,” Sethos said sarcastically.

  “I shall.”

  I did—but not at the house. Instead I suggested neutral ground, at one of the hotels. She accepted by return messenger.

  The next item in my (constantly) revised list of Things to Do involved Selim, so I was pleased to find him on the veranda with David and Emerson, who had invited him to luncheon. They were all smoking and drinking coffee and talking about Tutankhamon. It took me a while to cut into the conversation; in fact, I had to interrupt Emerson in order to do so.

  “Have you told Selim about what happened to Gargery?” I asked.

  Cut off in mid-lecture, Emerson did not immediately catch my meaning. “What about him?”

  I proceeded to tell Selim, who stroked his beard and looked bewildered. “I do not understand, Sitt Hakim. What does it mean?”

  “It means that from now on any one of us may be in similar danger. I want extra guards round the house. I want the children watched closely at all times, by one of our own men.”

  Emerson’s mouth had opened in protest when I began—for this meant the diminution of his work force—but when the children were mentioned he looked alarmed.

  “Between Elia and the dog—” he began.

  “Amira hasn’t proved to be a very efficient watchdog, and Elia, though devoted, is the twins’ nurserymaid, not a bodyguard.”

  “Hmph,” said Emerson. “Good thinking, Peabody. See to it, will you, Selim?”

  “Yes, Emerson. Though I do not believe any man in Egypt would harm a child, especially a child of the family of the Father of Curses. The men of Gurneh would track him down and tear him to pieces.”

  His quiet, even voice held more conviction than shouts and curses. A weight seemed to lift from my heart. “It is true,” I said. “Thank you, Selim.”

  Poor David paid the penalty for his popularity, being beleaguered by demands from all sides. The twins, who had been allowed, as a special treat, to join us for luncheon, insisted that he assist them in decorating the house for Christmas. Emerson suggested a tour of the sites Lacau had offered us for the following season—all in the same afternoon—and Cyrus sent a message inviting us to dinner that evening and asking whether we intended to bring David to the West Valley after luncheon. Daoud wanted to know when David would visit Kadija and his other kin at Gurneh; and Sennia, eating with exaggerated delicacy (to show up the twins) informed us that she intended to accompany us to all the places we had mentioned. Since David was too good-natured to refuse anyone, I took it upon myself to make the decision for him.

  “We are taking tea at the Winter Palace this afternoon—yes, Emerson, we are—and dining with the Vandergelts tonight—I have already accepted—so there won’t be time for much else. Sennia, I want you to rest and settle into your room; ask Fatima to iron your best frock, since you were included in Mr. Vandergelt’s invitation.”

  “Me too, me too,” Charla cried.

  “No, not you.”

  Charla’s face turned bright red and she bared her little teeth in a shriek. “When you learn to behave like a lady, you will be allowed to join the adults,” I said, over her cries.

  Charla was removed by Ramses—he was the only one except myself who could control her when she was in one of her rages—and I went with Sennia to see how Gargery was getting on. Since I had flatly refused his offer to serve at luncheon and since he would not sit down at table with us, I had had a luncheon tray sent to him. He sat hunched over it like an aging vulture and growled at me when I asked how he felt, but I noticed he had eaten everything.

  I then joined the others in Ramses’s workroom, where I had instructed them to meet me. “We must settle this business of the document,” I informed them, taking the chair Sethos held for me. “I have looked it over and failed to find anything. I suggest we send it off immediately to the address Sethos was given.”

  Frowning, Emerson picked up the papers. They were somewhat the worse for wear, tattered and stained (and scorched in several places where I had held them too close to the candle flame). “I can’t see any reason why we should not,” he admitted. “Sethos?”

  “I see a number of reasons why we should” was the reply. “In fact, I am in favor of enclosing a conciliatory note stating that we will refrain from further action if they will do the same.”

  Nefret said, “Will they take our word?”

  “Possibly not,” Sethos said. “But it’s worth a try. What do you think, David?”

  “I agree,” David said briefly.

  “We will leave it to you, then,” I said, with a nod at my brother-in-law.

  The tearoom at the Winter Palace is a spacious chamber with tall windows looking out over the famous gardens and handsomely furnished with oriental rugs and plush furniture. Ordinarily only the murmur of well-bred conversation and the muted clatter of crockery are heard. It was very crowded that afternoon, and the noise level was higher than usual.

  “Not many journalists present,” I remarked to Ramses.

  “They prefer the bars,” said Ramses. “Except that one.”

  He indicated Margaret, who had risen and was waving to us.

  She watched us approach with a somewhat derisive smile. “I am reminded of the late Queen,” she said. “A—er—petite, dignified lady, surrounded by very tall guards and accompanied by a pretty little lady-in-waiting. Consider me intimidated.”

  The description did not sit well with Nefret, whose sympathy for Margaret had faded after the latter’s attack on me. Lips tight, she took the chair Ramses held for her and I took another. The small table was set for four people, and flanked by a velvet settee and two chairs. Margaret resumed her seat on the settee. “I wasn’t expecting so many,” she said with a look of mock chagrin.

  “Well, we aren’t going away,” said Emerson, waving at one of the waiters. “Abdul, three more chairs here, if you please.”

  Abdul produced not only the chairs but another table, which he managed to fit in, to the great inconvenience of persons nearby. Once we had settled ourselves, I asked, “Whom were you expecting?”

  “Not David.” Margaret offered her hand to him and favored him with a friendly smile. “I didn’t know he was here. How are Lia and the children?”

  “Never mind the amenities,” said Emerson. “Miss Minton, we have reason to believe that our adversaries are still active. You would be wise to take extra precautions.”

  He drained his cup, slammed it back into the saucer, and rose.

  “I do admire your style, Professor,” Margaret said. “Brief and to the point. Is that all?”

  “Certainly not,” I said. “Sit down, Emerson, do.”

  Abdul, who was well acquainted with Emerson’s manners, brought another cup. I filled it.

  “What else is there to say?” demanded Emerson. However, he sat down and took the cup from me.

  “Have you had any—er—unusual encounters, Miss Minton?” I asked.

  “Don’t let us be so formal,” said that lady. “Our little disagreement is forgotten and forgiven, I hope?”

  “By you?” I inquired.

  “Ah, well,” said Margaret pensively. “Forgiveness is a conscious act. One cannot so easily forget an incident of such import, can one?”

  I rather enjoyed fencing with a skillful opponent, but Emerson and his brother were showing signs of annoyance. Sethos, who had been pointedly ignored by his wife, expressed his sentiments without reserve.

  “You refuse to take Amelia’s warning seriously?”

  Margaret’s chin protruded. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “As you did in Hayil,” Sethos snapped. “If I hadn’t got you out of there—”