Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (97 page)

Emerson leaped onto his donkey and urged it into a trot.

We had left the cultivation far behind before his countenance regained its customary placidity. I refrained from further discussion, knowing that sooner or later he would acknowledge the accuracy of my analysis. Sure enough, it was not long before he remarked musingly, ‘All the same, the case has one or two curious features. Why should thieves go to so much trouble to make off with an ordinary Romano-Egyptian mummy case? It was that of a commoner; there could be no expectation of finding jewellery or valuable amulets among the wrappings.’

‘What of the other objects that were taken?’ I asked.

‘That is what makes the situation even more curious, Peabody. Two other things were taken – the scarab and the statuette. They were the most valuable objects in the collection. The statuette was particularly fine, late Eighteenth Dynasty, if I am not mistaken. One might suppose that the thief was an expert in his unsavoury trade, since he knew the valuable from the valueless. Yet there were other items, small and easily portable, that might have fetched a decent price, and the thieves left them in order to expend enormous effort on removing a worthless mummy case.’

‘You have forgotten to mention one item that was taken,’ I said. ‘Or perhaps you did not observe it was missing.’

‘What are you talking about, Peabody? I missed nothing.’

‘Yes, Emerson, you did.’

‘No, Peabody, I did not.’

‘The lion cub, Emerson. The cage was empty.’

Emerson’s hands released their grip on the reins. His donkey came to a halt. I reined up beside him.

‘Empty,’ he repeated stupidly.

‘The door had been closed and the cage pushed aside, but I observed it closely and I can assure you – ’

‘Oh, good Gad!’ Emerson looked at me in consternation. ‘Peabody! Your own innocent child … You don’t suspect … Ramses could not possibly have carried off that heavy mummy case. Besides, he has better taste than to steal something like that.’

‘I have long since given up trying to anticipate what Ramses can and cannot do,’ I replied, with considerable heat. ‘Your second point has some merit; but Ramses’ motives are as obscure as his capabilities are remarkable. I never know what the devil the child has in mind.’

‘Language, Peabody, language.’

I took a grip on myself. ‘You are right. Thank you for reminding me, Emerson.’

‘You are quite welcome, Peabody.’

He took up his reins and we went on in pensive silence. Then Emerson said uneasily, ‘Where do you suppose he has put it?’

‘What, the mummy case?’

‘No, curse it. The lion cub.’

‘We will soon find out.’

‘You don’t believe he was involved in the other theft, do you, Amelia?’ Emerson’s voice was piteous.

‘No, of course not. I know the identity of the thief. As soon as I have dealt with Ramses I will take him into custody.’

T
HE
lion cub was in Ramses’ room. Ramses was sitting on the floor teasing it with a nasty-looking bit of raw meat when we burst in. He looked up with a frown and said reproachfully, ‘You did not knock, Mama and Papa. You know dat my privacy is important to me.’

‘What would you have done if we had knocked?’ Emerson asked.

‘I would have put de lion under de bed,’ said Ramses.

‘But how could you possibly suppose – ’ Emerson began. I joggled him with my elbow. ‘Emerson, you are letting Ramses get you off the track again. He always does it and you always succumb. Ramses.’

‘Yes, Mama?’ The cub rolled itself into a furry ball around his fist.

‘I told you not to …’ But there I was forced to stop to reconsider. I had not told Ramses he must not steal the baroness’s lion. He waited politely for me to finish, and I said weakly, ‘I told you not to wander off alone.’

‘But I did not, Mama. Selim went wit’ me. He carried de lion cub. My donkey would not let me take it up wit’ me.’

I had seen Selim that morning, but now that I thought about it I realised he had been careful to let me see only his back. No doubt his face and hands bore evidence of the cub’s reluctance to be carried.

I squatted down on the floor to examine the animal more closely. It certainly appeared to be in good health and spirits. In a purely investigative manner, to check the condition of its fur, I tickled the back of its head.

‘I am training it to hunt for itself,’ Ramses explained, dragging the loathsome morsel across the cub’s rounded stomach. Apparently it had had enough to eat, for it ignored the meat and began licking my fingers.

‘What are you going to do with it?’ Emerson inquired, sitting down on the floor. The cub transferred its attentions to his fingers, and he chuckled. ‘It’s an engaging little creature.’

‘All small creatures are engaging,’ I replied coldly. The cub climbed onto my lap and nuzzled into my skirt. ‘But one day this small creature will be big enough to swallow you in two bites, Ramses. No, lion, I am not your mother. There is nothing for you there. You had better find it some milk, Ramses.’

‘Yes, Mama, I will. T’ank you, Mama, I had not t’ought of dat.’

‘And don’t try your tricks with me, Ramses. I am not susceptible to charming young animals of any species. I am really disappointed in you. I had hoped you possessed a greater sense of responsibility. You have taken this helpless creature …’ The cub, frustrated in its quest for sustenance, sank its sharp little teeth into the upper portion of my leg, and I broke off with a yelp. Emerson removed it and began playing with it while I continued, ‘… this helpless creature into your charge, and you are incapable of giving it the care it requires. I fondly hope you do not entertain any notion that you can persuade your father and me to take it home with us.’

‘Oh no, Mama,’ said Ramses, wide-eyed. Emerson trailed the meat across the floor and chortled when the cub pounced on it.

‘I am glad you realise that. We cannot always be bringing animals back from Egypt. The cat Bastet … Good heavens, what about the cat? She won’t tolerate this infantile intruder for a moment.’

‘She likes it,’ said Ramses.

The cat Bastet lay atop the packing case Ramses used as a cupboard. Paws folded beneath her smooth breast, she watched the antics of the cub with what appeared to be an expression of benevolent interest.

‘Well, well,’ said Emerson, getting to his feet. ‘We will think of something, Ramses.’

‘I have already t’ought, Papa. I am going to give it to Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Walter. Dere is ample space for a menagerie at Chalfont, conducted on de latest scientific principles, and wit’ a veterinarian in constant attendance – ’

‘That is the most appalling suggestion I have ever heard,’ I exclaimed. ‘Ramses, I am thoroughly disaffected with you. Consider yourself confined to your room until further notice. No – that won’t do. You must repair some small part of the havoc you have wrought. Go immediately and fetch Selim.’

Ramses ran for the door. I sank into a chair. It was the first time – though certainly not the last – that I began to have serious doubts as to my capability of carrying out the task I had so unthinkingly assumed. I have dealt with murderers, thieves and brigands of all kinds; but I suspected Ramses might be too much even for me.

These doubts soon passed, naturally, as I attacked the immediate problems with my habitual efficiency. After lecturing Selim and painting iodine on his scratches – his face resembled that of a Red Indian ready for the warpath when I finished – I set one of the men to building a cage, another to the task of constructing a heavy wooden screen for Ramses’ window, and a third to the village to purchase a goat of the proper gender and lactiferous condition. Emerson protested the decimation of his work force, but not with his usual vehemence; and when I escorted Ramses into the parlour and sat him down on a footstool, Emerson took a chair next to mine with an expression of unusual gravity on his face.

I confess my own heart was lightened when Ramses declared, with a wholly convincing show of candour, that he knew nothing of the theft of the baroness’s antiquities.

‘I would not take dat rubbishy mummy case,’ he exclaimed. ‘I am deeply hurt, Mama, dat you should t’ink me capable of such ignorance.’

I exchanged glances with Emerson. The relieved twinkle in his fine blue eyes brought a reluctant answering smile to my lips. ‘You observe he is not offended that we questioned his honesty, only his intelligence,’ I said.

‘Stealing is wrong,’ said Ramses virtuously. ‘It says so in de Scripture.’

‘Accept my apologies for doubting you, my son,’ said Emerson. ‘You know, you might have pointed out that you lacked the strength to handle the object in question, even with Selim’s help.’

‘Oh, dat would not have been a sufficient defence, Papa. Dere are met’ods of dealing wit’ dat difficulty.’ And his face took on such a look of portentous calculation, I felt a shudder run through me.

Emerson said hastily, ‘Never mind, Ramses. Did you observe any suspicious activities at the dahabeeyah last night? Other than your own, that is.’

Ramses had nothing useful to offer on this subject. His visit to the baroness’s boat had taken place shortly after midnight, and he was reasonably certain that at that time the break-in had not taken place. The watchman had been sound asleep and snoring. Upon being questioned further, Ramses admitted that one of the crewmen had awakened. ‘I had de misfortune of treading upon his hand.’ A finger to the lips and a coin dropped into the abused hand had kept the grinning witness quiet.

‘And I know which one of the men it was,’ growled Emerson. ‘He was laughing behind his hand the whole time I was questioning him about burglars. Curse it, Ramses…’

‘I am very hungry, Mama,’ Ramses remarked. ‘May I go and see if de cook has luncheon ready?’

I acquiesced, for I wished to talk to Emerson alone. ‘It appears that the break-in took place after midnight,’ I began.

‘A logical conclusion, Peabody. But, if you will forgive my mentioning it, the fact is not particularly useful.’

‘I never said it was, Emerson.’

Emerson leaned back and crossed his legs. ‘I suppose you have fixed on Hamid as the burglar?’

‘Are not the circumstances suspicious, Emerson? Hamid was on the scene when Abd el Atti met his death… Oh, you need not wriggle your eyebrows at me in that supercilious fashion, you know what I mean – we can’t prove he was in the shop that night, but he was in Cairo, and he was involved in some shady negotiation with Abd el Atti. A few days later he turns up here, with some specious excuse about looking for work – and the baroness is robbed.’

‘Weak,’ said Emerson judiciously. ‘Very weak, Peabody. But knowing you, I am surprised you have not already put your suspect under arrest.’

‘I have had time to reconsider my first impulse, Emerson. What good would it do to apprehend the man? As yet we have no physical evidence connecting him to either crime, and naturally he will deny everything. The most sensible course is to ignore him, and watch his every movement. Sooner or later he will do something criminal, and we will catch him in the act.’

‘Watch him, Peabody? Follow him, you mean? If you think I am going to spend the night squatting behind a palm tree watching Hamid snore, you are sadly mistaken.’

‘That is a difficulty. You need your sleep, Emerson, and so do I.’

‘Sleep,’ said Emerson, ‘is not the only nocturnal activity of which I do not mean to be deprived.’

‘We might take it in turn,’ I mused. ‘In a turban and robe I could pass for a man – ’

‘The activity to which I referred requires that both of us be present, Peabody.’

‘My dear Emerson – ’

‘My darling Peabody – ’

But at that point we were interrupted by Ramses, returning from the kitchen with the roasted chicken that had been prepared for us, and I had to mention several excellent reasons why it should be fed to us instead of to the lion.

Emerson’s objections to our keeping a watch on Hamid, though frivolous, had merit. I therefore considered alternatives. The most obvious alternative was John, and when we returned to the dig after luncheon I was pleased to observe that he had carried out his responsibilities with skill and dedication. I had given him some instruction in the use of the camera; although we would have to wait until the plates were developed to be sure he had carried out the procedure correctly, his description of the method he had followed seemed correct. I took several more photographs to be on the safe side, and then our most skilled workmen were set to work clearing the graves. As the fragile and pitiful remains were carried carefully to the house I congratulated myself on our luck in having found such an admirable place. Never before, on any expedition, had I had enough storage space. Thanks to the old monks, I could now classify our finds in a proper methodical manner – pottery in one room, Roman mummies in another, and so on.

Hamid was working even more lethargically than usual. Naturally he would be tired if he had helped transport a weighty object the night before. Where the devil had he put the thing? I wondered. The mummy case was over seven feet long. Hamid was a stranger in the village, he had no house of his own. But there were hiding places aplenty in the desert – abandoned tombs, sunken pits, and the sand itself. Or the mummy case might have been loaded onto a small boat and carried away by water. There were many answers to the question of
where
it might have been hidden, but none to the most difficult question: Why take it in the first place?