“They will find out eventually, won’t they? Her father knows she is with us.”
“If Sahin Pasha is as intelligent a man as I believe him to be, he will not volunteer any more information than is necessary to keep them from hanging him.” He added, with a rather attractive smile, “With any luck, he should be able to hold them off until the war is over.”
“May that day be soon in coming,” I said with a sigh.
“Amen,” said Mr. Smith.
“One more thing,” I said, drawing on my gloves.
“Yes, of course. He asked me to give you his regards and tell you he will ‘turn up,’ as he put it, before long.”
“Thank you.”
“Not at all.” He himself showed us to the door. “If there is ever anything I can do for you, or any member of your family -”
“The kindest thing you can do for us is leave us strictly alone.” I swept past him in my best style.
“All the same,” I said to Ramses, when we were again in the cab, “I don’t think as badly of him as I do of some of the others. Cartright lied to us. Chetwode did not act without his authorization, did he?”
“Chetwode is another military pedant; he wouldn’t dare act without orders. They don’t think of it as lying, you know. Expediency, necessity, ‘whatever it takes to get the job done.’ Chetwode fooled me, though,” Ramses added, in chagrin. “That air of inept innocence was put on. He couldn’t have escaped from Gaza so handily if he had been as incompetent as he seemed.”
“He counted on your sense of decency and loyalty to assist him,” I said.
“Naïveté, rather. Sahin was right, I’ll never get the hang of the business.”
I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Decency and loyalty have not prevented you from succeeding.”
Ramses shrugged the compliment away. “It’s over, anyhow, thank God. I’m looking forward to seeing the family again.”
“There is one thing I didn’t ask,” I said.
“Only one? And what is that?”
“Sethos’s real name. Bracegirdle-Boisdragon must know.”
The lines furrowing Ramses’s brow disappeared. “I suppose he must, he admitted having examined various records, which would presumably include a birth certificate. I hadn’t given the matter much thought.”
“Hadn’t you wondered at all? I have. It couldn’t be Thomas, could it? After his father?”
“It doesn’t suit him.”
“Well, but when one gives a newborn infant a name, one cannot predict how it will turn out.”
Ramses gave me a curious look.
“As in my case,” he suggested.
“Walter doesn’t suit you,” I agreed. “But no one ever calls you that. William? Frederick? Albert?”
“Robert,” said Ramses, entering into the spirit of the thing. “No, something more distinctive. Perhaps his mother was fond of poetry. Byron? Wordsworth?”
The subject entertained us for the rest of the drive. I was happy to see I had got Ramses’s mind off the recent unpleasantness. He had done his duty with regard to Esin, not even flinching at that appalling promise – “from the ends of the earth” indeed! – and was more at ease about her. Getting back to Luxor and to the dig would complete the cure.
When we returned to the hotel we found both Nefret and Emerson missing. She had left a message for Ramses, telling him she had gone to the hospital and promising to be back in time for luncheon. There was no message from Emerson.
“Where do you suppose he has gone?” I asked, in considerable irritation.
“To the railroad station, perhaps,” Ramses suggested. “I believe he wants to take the train this evening.”
“I trust that is agreeable to you and Nefret, Ramses. Did he do you the courtesy of asking?”
“So far as I am concerned, the sooner we leave Cairo, the better.”
True to her word, Nefret turned up in good time, to report that all was well at the hospital and that she was perfectly agreeable to a departure that evening. I suspected her motives were the same as mine; I wanted no more encounters with General Murray or any of his lot. We had done our duty and more, we had handed over a very important prisoner to the military, and we had reported (some of) our activities to General Chetwode. They could ask no more of us; but they probably would, if we stayed in Cairo.
“Isn’t Father back yet?” she asked. “I made him go with me to the hospital so that I could X-ray his arm and replace the cast, but that was hours ago.”
Another hour passed with no sign of Emerson. Nefret suggested we order coffee and biscuits, adding with a rueful smile, “My appetite has become outrageous since Gaza. I suppose it’s because we ate such peculiar things at such peculiar hours.”
“No doubt,” I said.
The minutes dragged by. Finally I heard the unmistakable thud of Emerson’s heavy steps, and the door was flung open. A cry of indignation burst from my lips.
“Emerson, how many times must I tell you not to use that cast like a battering ram? And why aren’t you wearing your coat? And your cravat? And -”
Emerson glanced in mild surprise at his arm. “Forgot,” he said, tossing his crumpled coat onto the floor. “Coffee? Good. How did it go?”
“How did what…? Oh, Esin. It is all settled and she is in good hands. Where the devil have you been?”
Emerson sipped his coffee. Ramses leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Shall I hazard a guess?”
“If you like,” said Emerson, rolling his eyes at me.
“Hilmiya.”
“Oh, Emerson, you didn’t!” I cried.
“I had to, didn’t I? What the devil, the crafty bastard did me a favor – two favors, in fact.”
“How did you get into the camp?” Ramses asked curiously.
“Walked up to the gate and announced myself,” said his father, holding out his cup for me to refill it. “El-Gharbi was not surprised to see me – he had heard of our return. He seems to hear everything. He wanted me to pay him for the damage to the motorcar.”
“Did you?” Nefret asked, torn between amusement and disgust.
“No. His people had stolen the thing, hadn’t they? I assured him,” said Emerson, with another wary glance at me, “that I would speak on his behalf. Exile, to his village in Upper Egypt, would satisfy him and settle my debt.”
“Oh, dear,” I murmured. “Well, Emerson, you acted according to your lights, I suppose. Go and clean up, it is past time for luncheon.”
I followed him into our room, for I knew that if I did not assist his ablutions he would get the cast wet.
“I trust el-Gharbi was properly appreciative,” I said, assisting him to remove his shirt.
“In his fashion. He said something rather strange.”
“What? Let me do that, Emerson.”
I took the dripping washcloth from his hand.
“ ‘The young serpent also has poisoned fangs.’ ”
“I beg your pardon, Emerson?”
“Those were his precise words, Peabody. I haven’t the vaguest idea what they mean, but it has the ring of a warning, doesn’t it?”
“Hmm. Perhaps he was referring to Jamil.” I put the washcloth down and picked up a towel.
“The warning comes a bit late,” said Emerson. “But that is how soothsayers and fortune-tellers and such individuals make their reputations, by predicting what has already happened. The devil with it, and el-Gharbi. I stopped by the railroad station and made reservations. We will take the train tonight.”
I did not wire ahead. We would probably arrive before the telegram was delivered, and Fatima always kept the house in perfect order. The happy surprise I had planned for her and the others was spoiled, however, by the network of gossip that encompasses Luxor. By the time we reached the house, the whole family was on the veranda waiting for us. Sennia darted at Ramses, shouting, “See how much taller and stronger I am?”