Seeing a Large Cat (28 page)

"Hmph," said Ramses. "What did he say about-"

"First," Nefret said firmly, "tell me what went on at your luncheon party. I saw you with the Frasers and that woman, and I was dying of curiosity. Have you set a date for my performance as Princess Tasherit?"

"No," I said, giving Ramses a little nudge to keep him from challenging her assumption, as he was obviously about to do. "But we are engaged to them this evening, in order to be introduced to the princess."

"Excellent!" Nefret cried. "We need to know how it is done before we can make our final plans. It was clever of you to think of that, Aunt Amelia."

"It was Ramses's idea," I said.

"Then it was clever of you, my boy." She took his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

The carriage had come to a halt in front of the temple. Under M. Maspero's vigorous leadership the Department of Antiquities had swept away the clutter of medieval and modern buildings that had once disfigured the magnificent ruin, leaving only the small picturesque mosque of Abu'l Haggag. Before us rose the colonnade of the Amenhotep III court, its papyrus columns and architraves almost intact; the slanting afternoon sunlight warmed the sandstone to pale gold and outlined the deep-cut, elegantly shaped hieroglyphs in shadow. Ramses pulled his hand from Nefret's and jumped out, directing the driver in Arabic to take the ladies on to the landing.

"Ukaf, driver!" Nefret said sharply. "What are you up to now, Ramses? I thought you wanted me to take photographs."

"David can manage the photographs," Ramses said. "You and Mother go-"

"David is not here yet." Lifting her skirts, she scrambled agilely out of the carriage and stood beside him.

"Really, Ramses, you are becoming very high-handed," I said. "Nefret and I will both help you with the photography. The light is perfect at this time of day. But where is David? I thought he had come on ahead."

Ramses admitted defeat with a shrug and a hand extended to assist me from the carriage. "He must be waiting inside."

The main entrance to the temple, by the great pylon, had been closed, so we entered from the road and went directly to the court of Amenhotep. This part of the temple was the oldest, dating from the Eighteenth Dynasty, later additions having been made by that ubiquitous pharaoh Ramses II. I presumed that his modern namesake meant to begin with the older (and, in the opinion of myself and other experts, more beautiful) reliefs and hieroglyphic texts, which he admitted was the case.

"The colonnade south of the court has particularly interesting reliefs, depicting the procession of the sacred barks of the gods from Karnak to Luxor Temple," he explained in his pedantic manner. "They ought to be copied as soon as possible; the upper portion has already perished and the rest is deteriorating daily. It will be necessary to photograph at various times of day, since different portions of the wall are in shadow at different times."

Her head tipped back, Nefret walked slowly along between the row of massive columns. There were fourteen of them, each over forty feet high. We were alone except for a few of the barefoot, turbanned "guides" who infest the ruins; Luxor Temple is less popular with tourists than the monumental ruins of Karnak, though to my mind it is far more beautiful and harmonious. Except for murmured greetings and nods, the fellows did not approach us. They knew who we were.

We had been there for some time before David appeared, hurrying into the colonnade from the direction of the court. He had obviously not expected to see me and Nefret, for he checked his advance momentarily before coming on and beginning to apologize.

"I stopped to talk with-er-one of my cousins," he explained, unstrapping the bag he carried.

I would have thought nothing of it had he simply mentioned a name. David had relations all over the area, from Gurneh to Karnak. Those who were not in our employ worked at various trades, some as guides and dragomen, some at less socially acceptable occupations. David's reticence and the haste with which he and Ramses began setting up the photographic equipment roused my suspicions, and this time I observed the silent exchange of glances and nods that betokened a question asked and an answer received.

The shadows were lengthening, so we made haste to take as many exposures as possible. The same views would be taken again at other times of day, for each shift in the light brought out slightly different details. With a flexible rule the precise location of the camera was measured and recorded, so that it could be duplicated on another occasion. It was a slow, painstaking process, and rather tedious. We had been at work less than two hours when I turned my ankle jumping down from a statue base. It did not inconvenience me in the slightest, but I felt obliged to point out that time was getting on and that we were due back in Luxor by half-past eight.

I believe Ramses would not scruple to take advantage of my imminent demise for his own purposes. "I say, Mother, you look a bit done in," he said solicitously. "Nefret, will you help her back to the carriage? I told the driver to wait. David and I will pack up and join you shortly."

Nefret gave me a long look and solemnly offered me the support of her arm. I took it and limped away with her. Once we were out of sight in the adjoining court, we turned to one another in mutual suspicion.

"Wait here," Nefret said in a low voice.

"My limp was exaggerated," I explained in the same soft tones. "Proceed. I will follow."

The place might have been designed for spies. Each rounded column was large enough to conceal not one but two or more individuals of slender girth, and the shadows under the architraves were darkening. When we peered round the pylonned entrance we saw that the camera bags, packed with more haste than care, lay abandoned behind a pillar. There was no one in sight, not even a squatting custodian.

"Curse it," said Nefret. "Where have they gone?"

"The other way, obviously, into the court of Ramses II. Perhaps they only want to have a look. There is an interesting little chapel built by Thutmose III-"

"Ha," Nefret said.

She proceeded slowly, gliding from the shelter of one pillar to that of the next. But before we reached the end of the colonnade a cry and the sound of a shuddering crash made the need for caution unnecessary and-to anxious hearts-impossible. Nefret began to run. She was fleeter than I-because of my twisted ankle-and by the tune I caught her up she was on her knees beside David, who was sitting on the ground, rubbing his shoulder and looking dazed. Next to him lay several good-sized fragments of red granite. The largest was approximately a foot long. It was part of a statue's head; one carved eye appeared to be staring accusingly at Ramses, who stood beside David.

"Damnation!" said Ramses. "He's broken it!"

The stone head had not struck David; he had fallen rather heavily, landing on his left shoulder, when Ramses pushed him out of the way. He insisted it was only bruised, and the agility with which he moved bore out his claim. Ramses insisted on carrying the camera cases, however. He hustled us out of the temple and into the carriage without giving us a chance to ask questions.

Nefret was obviously biding her tune. Lips pinched and brow furrowed, she waited until we were on board the felucca before she burst out, "Ramses, you-"

"Please. Not in front of Mother," Ramses said.

"You lied to me! You promised-"

"Not," Ramses repeated with even greater emphasis, "in front of Mother. Look here, I fully intended to tell you-both of you-Father too-all about it. Matters did not quite work out as I had hoped."

"Now, children, don't quarrel," I said. "I take it, Ramses, that you had made an assignation with someone, through David-that is why he was so late, he had been delivering your message. Was it Colonel Bellingham you wanted to see, or that young man with the unfortunate name?"

"I told you it was a waste of time trying to deceive Aunt Amelia," David said. "She always knows everything."

"Not knowledge, but logical deduction," I corrected. "The stone head-it is a pity it was broken, I remember it as a fine example of Eighteenth Dynasty sculpture-was dropped or thrown from above, possibly from the top of the little shrine. None of the women with whom we are acquainted could have managed it, so your attacker must have been male. You must have had some reason to assume the meeting would not be cordial or you would not have been sufficiently alert to observe the missile in time to avoid it. The only persons-"

"Yes, Mother," said Ramses in the same tone Emerson sometimes employs when I get the better of him in a discussion. He went on, "You need not elaborate, I follow your reasoning. It is, of course, absolutely correct-so far as it goes. I did send a message to Mr. Tollington, suggesting that we meet and try to resolve our differences. I proposed an out-of-the-way place, since I did not want to risk being interrupted by Miss Bellingham; her presence seems to destroy what few brains the poor chap possesses. But-" Seeing I was about to speak, he raised his voice. "But that does not mean Tollington was our attacker. He may not even have received my letter; he was not at the hotel when David left it there."

"Dropping rocks on people's heads is not the sort of thing one expects of a gentleman," I agreed. "The obvious suspect, I suppose, is Dutton Scudder. He may bear a grudge because you prevented him from carrying Dolly off that night in Cairo. Really, Ramses, you are collecting enemies almost as rapidly as your father. Can you think of anyone else who might want to damage you?"

"I can," said Nefret.

That put a damper, so to speak, upon the conversation. No one spoke again until the boat reached the landing, where Ahmet was waiting with the horses. Nefret went at once to greet them, and I gave Ramses a little nudge.

"Go and make your peace with your sister. You are getting too old for this sort of nonsense, and," I added with a severe look at him, "for these secretive habits of yours."

"Yes, Mother," said Ramses.

Like his father, Ramses has the habit of leaving bits of his clothing strewn around the landscape. He had removed his coat and tie as soon as we left the hotel. As he started off his tie fell from the pocket of his coat, which he had tossed over one shoulder. I picked it up.

"How is your ankle?" David asked.

"Aching a bit. We could both do with a splash of arnica."

The sun had begun its final descent and the lovely rich light, a light I have seen only in Egypt, cast a glamour over the scene and the faces of my son and daughter.

It was almost like a miming play, for they were far enough distant so that I could not hear what they were saying. They stood close together. Ramses was doing the talking; arms folded and face averted, Nefret tapped her little foot and did not respond at first. Then she looked up at him and spoke rapidly, her hands moving in graceful gestures. He broke in; she interrupted him.

It did not appear they were getting on at all well. I had started toward them when another actor made his appearance on the scene. Risha had become impatient; he had been waiting for some hours and felt a dignified reminder would not be out of place. He came with his delicate catlike walk and pushed his head between them.

Nefret burst out laughing. She threw her arm over the stallion's arched neck and I heard her say, "He has better manners then either of us! Pax, Ramses?"

He did not reply in words. Picking her up, he lifted her into the saddle and then turned to me; but David had already assisted me to mount. We made quite a merry little party as we rode off together, for Nefret's nature was as naturally sunny as it was quick to anger.

I was pleased not to have to deal with the children's bad tempers. Emerson's temper was worse than all of theirs combined, and I knew he was not going to like what I had to tell him. Any of it!

Emerson is constantly surprising me. (That is an excellent quality in a husband, if I may be permitted a slight digression. A man who is absolutely predictable is predictably boring.) The first surprise of the afternoon was that he was already at the house, bathed, changed, and waiting, when we got there. He did not chastise us for being late; he did not reproach us for failing to assist him in his excavation; he did not even tell us, in exquisitely tedious detail, all about the day's work. So extraordinary was this forbearance that once we had settled ourselves comfortably none of us knew what to say.

A gleam of amusement warmed Emerson's brilliant blue eyes as he studied each of us in turn. "It must be even worse than I had anticipated," he said mildly. "You had better begin, Peabody; what, of all the things you have to tell me about, will I dislike most?"

"The seance, I expect," I said.

Emerson took out his pipe. "When?"

"This evening."

"Ah." Emerson proceeded to fill and light his pipe. Then he said, "Next?"

"Very well, Emerson," I said, unable to repress a smile, "you win this point. I thought you would shout."

"I had braced myself for that particular piece of news, since I expected you would want to preview the performance, and sooner rather than later. What next?"

"The examination of the body, I suppose."

"Oh, you succeeded in bullying Willoughby, did you? Well?"

"The wound went straight through the chest," I said. "The exit wound was almost as large as the entry wound. It must have been a very long, heavy knife, Emerson."

"In the hand of a man beside himself with rage and passion," Emerson muttered. "To be able to strike with such force . . . The knives the Beduin use are of that sort. Did you observe anything else of significance?"

I hesitated for a moment, searching for the proper phraseology. "There was something I did not observe that was highly significant,"

The blood rushed into Emerson's lean cheeks. "Curse it, Peabody," he shouted. "You have been reading those damnable detective stories again!"

"You did not observe it either," I said, pleased to have aroused him. Emerson is particularly handsome when he is in a rage, teeth bared and eyes blazing. "Or to put it another way, you ought to have observed that it was not there."