"You know. You told me yourself," Elliott answered. "And then there was your father's notebook, which I read, at your behest. The mummy's claim to be immortal, to have lived and loved Cleopatra."
Ramses looked down at his plate. Deftly he broke off a joint of the chicken and ate half of it in two quick, delicate bites.
"The museum will have to examine those texts," Samir said. "It's too early to draw conclusions."
"And is the museum content that you've left the collection locked up in Mayfair?" asked Elliott,
"Frankly," Alex said, "the whole thing sounded perfectly absurd to me. Romantic twaddle. An immortal being, living for a thousand years and then falling tragically in love with Cleopatra. Cleopatra!"
"I beg your pardon," Ramses said. He devoured the remaining chicken and wiped his fingers again. "At your famous Oxford, they said mean things about Cleopatra as well."
Alex laughed frankly and cheerfully.
"You don't have to go to Oxford to hear mean things about Cleopatra. Why, she was the trollop of the ancient world, a spendthrift, a temptress and an hysterical woman."
"Alex, I don't want to hear any more of this schoolboy history!" Julie said.
"You have many opinions, young man," Ramses said with a chilling smile. "What is your passion now? What interests you?"
There was a silence. Julie couldn't help but notice the curious expression on Elliott's face.
"Well," Alex said. "If you were an immortal-an immortal who'd once been a great King, would you have fallen in love with a woman like Cleopatra?"
"Answer the question, Alex," Julie said. "What is your passion? It's not history, not Egyptology, not government. What would you say it is that makes you want to wake up in the morning?" She could feel the blood rising in her face.
"Yes, I would have fallen in love with Cleopatra," said Ramses. "She could have charmed a god. Read between the lines of your Plutarch. The truth is there."
"And what is the truth?" Elliott asked.
"That she was a brilliant mind; she had a gift for languages and for governing which defied reason. The greatest men of the time paid court to her. Hers was a royal soul in every sense of the word. Why do you think your Shakespeare wrote about her? Why do your schoolchildren know her name?"
"Oh, come now. Divine right?" said Alex. "You sound much better when you are talking Marxist theory."
"Which is what, precisely?"
"Alex," Julie said sharply. "You wouldn't know a Marxist if one punched you in the face."
"You must understand, my lord," Samir said to Alex. "We Egyptians take our history rather seriously. Cleopatra was by any standards a formidable Queen."
"Yes, well said," Ramses said. "And Egypt could use a Cleopatra now to rid it of British domination. She'd send your soldiers packing, you can be sure."
'Ah, there you see, a revolutionary. And what about the Suez Canal? I suppose she'd say 'No, thank you' for that? You do know what the Suez Canal is, don't you! Well, it was British financing that accomplished that little miracle, my friend, I hope you understand."
"Oh, yes, that little trench you dug between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. Did you whip the slaves in the hot sun to dig that trench? Do tell me."
"Touché, old fellow, touché. Truth is, I haven't the foggiest notion." Alex put down his fork and sat back, smiling at Henry. "This has been the most exhausting dinner."
Henry stared at him with the same expressionless glassy eyes with which he regarded everything else.
"Tell me, Mr. Ramsey," said Elliott. "Your personal opinion, if you will. Is this mummy truly Ramses the Great? An immortal who lived until the time of Cleopatra?"
Alex laughed softly. He looked again at Henry, and this time apparently Henry's condition shocked him. He was about to say something when Ramses went on.
"And what do you think, Lord Rutherford?" Ramses asked. "You read the notes of your friend Lawrence. Is there an immortal man in that mummy case in Julie's house in Mayfair?"
Elliott smiled. "No, there isn't," he said.
Julie stared at her plate. Then slowly she looked up at Samir.
"Of course not!" Alex said. "And it's about time somebody said so. When they take him to the museum and cut him up, they'll discover he was a scribe with a lively imagination."
"Forgive me," Julie said. "But I am so weary of all this. We'll be in Egypt soon enough, among the mummies and the monuments. Must we go on?"
"I'm sorry, my dear," Elliott said, lifting his fork and taking a small morsel of chicken. "I've rather enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Ramsey. I find your perspective on ancient Egypt absolutely riveting."
"Oh? The present era is my fascination of late, Lord Rutherford. Englishmen such as yourself intrigue me. And as you were saying, you were a good friend of Lawrence, were you not?"
Julie saw the change in Henry before she realized that Ramses was once again glaring at him. Henry shifted, lifted the empty glass in his hand, then realized it was empty and stared at it as if he did not know what to do with it, and then stared just as stupidly at the waiter who took it from him and gave him another drink.
If Elliott noticed all this, he gave no sign.
"We had our differences, Lawrence and I," he answered, "but yes, we were very good friends. And we did agree upon one thing. We hoped mat our children would soon be happily married."
Julie was stunned. "Elliott, please."
"But we needn't discuss this, you and I," Elliott said quickly. Obviously rudeness wasn't easy for him. ' 'There are other things I should like to discuss with you. Where you came from, who you really are. All those same questions I ask myself when I look into the mirror."
Ramses laughed, but he was now angry. Julie could feel it.
"You'll probably find my answers brief and disappointing. As for the marriage of Julie to your son, Lawrence believed it was Julie's choice. Let me see. How did he put it?" He turned his eyes on Henry again. "English is rather new to me, but my memory is exceptional. Ah, yes. 'Julie's marriage can wait forever.' My dear Henry, were those not the words?"
Henry's lips worked silently, but only a faint moan came out of his lips. Alex was red-faced, hurt, looking at Ramses. Julie had to do something to stop this, but what?
"Well, you certainly do seem to have been a close friend of Julie's father," Alex said almost sadly. "Closer perhaps than we realized. Was there anything else that Lawrence made known to you before he died?"
Poor, poor Alex! But this was all aimed at Henry, and in another moment things were going to explode.
"Yes," Ramses said. Julie grabbed his hand and squeezed it, but he did not acknowledge this. "Yes, that he thought his nephew was a bastard." Again he glared at Henry. "Am I right? 'You bastard.' Weren't those his last words?"
Henry rose from the chair, upsetting it. He stumbled backwards as the chair went over with a thud on the carpeted floor. He stared at Ramses, his mouth open, a low sound coming from him, half gasp, half moan.
"Good God," said Alex. "Mr. Ramsey, you go too far."
"Do I?" asked Ramses, watching Henry.
"Henry, you're drunk, old man," Alex said. "I should help you to your room."
"Please do not do this," Julie whispered. Elliott was studying both of them. He had not so much as looked up at Henry, who turned now and half stumbled towards the far door.
Alex stared at his plate, his face reddening.
"Mr. Ramsey, I think there's something you must understand," Alex said.
"What is that, young man?"
"Julie's father was plainspoken with those he loved." Then something dawned on him. "But . . . you weren't there when he died, were you? I thought Henry was with him. Alone."
Elliott was silent.
"My, but this is going to be a very interesting trip," Alex said lamely. "I must confess-"
"It's going to be a disaster!" Julie said. She could take this no more. "Now, listen to me. All of you. I don't want any more talk of marriage; or of my father's death. I've had quite enough of both." She rose to her feet. "You must forgive me, but I'm leaving you now. I'll be in my cabin if you should need me." She looked down at Ramses. "But no more talk of these things, is that clear?"