The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery (43 page)

An Englishman who "goes native" betrays every other Englishman in the East. To learn something of the language is necessary in order to avoid being cheated;
to
wear native attire is sometimes convenient and comfortable; but acceptance of the corrupt moral standards of the Arab lowers our prestige. The women, for example ...

From Manuscript H

Emerson had them out at dawn after their late night. He had always been able to go for days without any sleep to speak of, and he expected his associates to keep up with him. Ramses would rather have dropped in his tracks than admit he couldn't, but the combination of physical fatigue and mental confusion was taking its toll, and by the end of the day he could have cheered when his mother announced that they would stop work early. Another bit of good news was her decree that they would accept no social invitations for a few days—except, of course, with one another. They had a great deal of catching up to do, she said.

What she really meant was that she wanted Geoffrey and Nefret to herself for a while so that she could pry into the latter's feelings and get the former firmly under her thumb. He'd have plenty of company there.

When Lia asked Ramses to come to supper on the
Amelia,
just the three of them, adding that if they talked too late he should stay the night, it was as if someone had offered him a hand out of a fiery furnace. He was not managing as well as he had hoped.

After they got back from the fantasia, he had left the house, ostensibly for a walk, so he wouldn't have to watch Nefret and her husband go down the corridor to their rooms. Late as it was when he returned, he had not got much sleep.

There were several things he wanted to discuss with David anyhow, and he introduced the most pressing of them as soon as he decently could. They were sitting on the upper deck. It had been his mother's favorite place, and it was almost unchanged— the worn, comfortable wicker settees and low hassocks with their faded chintz covers, the awning flapping overhead, the tea-things set out on a low table. Lia had insisted he take off his coat and put his feet up. He hadn't realized how much of his fatigue was due to pure nerves until it began to drain out of him.

"You
are
rather a dear little thing," he said with a smile.

She put out her tongue at him. "And you are rather a dear yourself. For a man," she added, in his mother's very tone.

David beamed at both of them. "It's good to be back, and at work. You were right, though, Ramses; that is one confounded boring site! I felt as if I were photographing the same grave over and over—a few bones, a few broken pots, a few scraps of wood or stone. Only the Professor would insist on recording such rubbish."

"Geoffrey was a great help today," Lia said. "His Arabic isn't very good, but he's a first-rate excavator, even by the Professor's standards. Slow and meticulous. Ramses—what are you going to do about his idea that you should change places?"

"I wanted to consult both of you about that." She handed him a cup of tea and he took it with a nod of thanks. "It was a rather outrageous suggestion, and rather out of character for him. Not so much in itself, but that he should propose it without bothering to ask Father and Mr. Reisner—or me, come to that."

"Yes, but that's how one has to treat the Professor," David said, his eyes twinkling. "He is one of the most intimidating people I've ever met. If you don't stand up to him at the start, you're doomed to perpetual silence and servitude."

"Like you," his wife said with a fond look.

"Well, it took me a while," David admitted. "Quite a while. I agree, Ramses, that Geoffrey may have been a bit out of line, but it was a logical suggestion. One can't blame him for wanting to be with Nefret."

"Or wanting me out of the way?"

He hoped he wouldn't have to explain. Unless they saw it too, he'd have to admit, if only to himself, that he had lost his sense of proportion. There was a long, nerve-racking pause before Lia spoke.

"He's still a suspect, isn't he? That hasn't changed. And— yes—if he's the one, and he's not given up his vendetta, he'd have a freer hand if you weren't there. You are a force to be reckoned with!"

"Only one of several, but the fewer the better, from the point of view of a potential enemy."

"The two of you make my blood run cold!" David exclaimed. "You'll be suspecting Nefret next! Look here, hasn't Geoffrey an alibi for one of the incidents? According to Aunt Amelia, he was with her when the shots were fired."

"That's true," Ramses said. "I'm only looking at the worst-possible scenario, as my dear mother taught me to do. Mr. Reisner won't be back from the Sudan until the end of the month, but Fisher is starting work shortly. I think I'll drop by Harvard Camp tomorrow and ask him if he'd like to take me on."

"Why did I know you were going to say that?" David demanded, running his hand through his hair. "And why did you bother asking our opinion if you'd already made up your mind?"

"I'm opposed," Lia said decidedly. "That would mean you'd be working with Jack Reynolds. For goodness' sake, Ramses, he threatened to shoot you!"

"That's one of the reasons," Ramses said, and laughed at her indignant look. "Not because he threatened to shoot me, dear— he was very drunk at the time and he seems to have settled down. But because he's also a suspect, and if I'm working with him I can play Sherlock Holmes, in my famous insinuating and clever fashion. There's another man working at Giza who is an even more logical suspect. Karl von Bork."

"Yes, Aunt Amelia mentioned him," David said. "But aside from the fact that his wife is an artist—"

"That's just one of Mother's little notions," Ramses said. "I can't imagine that he would involve Mary. The case against him is strong, though. He's been in Egypt a long time—not continually, but often enough to have struck up an acquaintance with a handy forger of antiquities. He's a good philologist. He's poor, and devoted to his extensive family. He's German. Our impostor sold objects to several dealers in that country, and he speaks the language. Von Bork knows us, and he knew Abdullah. Most damning of all is the fact that he once betrayed Mother and Father for money. His wife was dangerously ill and he didn't realize how serious the matter was, but it shows how far he might go if he believed his family was in need."

Lia drew a long breath. "That's damning, all right. I would rate him suspect number one."

"Which, in a work of fiction, would prove his innocence." Ramses smiled. "We haven't given him enough attention, though, and it's time we did."

The last steamer of the day let off a series of warning blasts, and Lia clapped her hands to her ears. "I'm going down to talk to Karima about dinner, and then rest for a while. That will give you two a chance to talk." Her light dress blew out around her graceful little figure as she walked to the head of the stairs, where she paused just long enough to say, "I'll tell Karima to make up the bed in your old room, Ramses. It's yours whenever and for as long as you want it."

Her bright head vanished below. Ramses turned an inimical look on his friend. David shook his head.

"No, my brother, I did not betray your confidence. But... well ... you know women."

"I don't think I do."

"They are very romantic," David explained, with a worldly-wise air that would have amused Ramses under slightly different circumstances. "Inveterate matchmakers. We've been so close, the four of us, and you two seemed so ideally suited in every way ... Lia talked about it, that's all. Just as something she would like to have happen."

"It didn't happen. Can we change the subject?"

"One thing more." David leaned forward. His soft brown eyes were warm with affection and concern. "I'll never mention the subject again until you bring it up—but for the love of God, don't push yourself too far. You have a bad habit of doing that. Do you think I can't tell? Come here to us if and when you like. Go to work for Reisner so you won't have to be with them all day every day. And when you're ready, talk to me."

1 thought Ramses had abandoned the search for Rashida until one afternoon when he asked if I would go to Nefret's clinic with him.

I was flattered that he should ask me, and said as much. "I have been wanting to visit the place, but your father put up such a fuss that I decided not to press the issue. He said that, much as he disliked her going, Nefret had a legitimate reason, but that idle curiosity was no excuse. Now you know, Ramses—"

"You are never inspired by idle curiosity," said my son gravely. "On this occasion your presence is necessary. Dr. Sophia knows me, but I am sure she would feel more comfortable about admitting me if I were with you. It is a forlorn hope, I am afraid, but one I feel I must make. If you will permit me, I will give you tea at Shepheard's afterward."

"Say no more," I exclaimed. "I am with you! Or will be, as soon as I put on my hat and find my parasol."

I have been in a number of the nastier sections of Cairo, but though el Was'a is in embarrassingly close proximity to Shepheard's, I had never gone there. I had heard about it, though. It proved to be even worse than my worst imaginings (which can be, as Emerson has often remarked, pretty bad). As evening approached, the houses were preparing to open for business. I am glad to say that my presence appeared to have a sobering effect on both the women and their prospective customers. Those who caught sight of me hastily withdrew behind curtains or around corners, and the raucous vulgarities being shouted by both parties were abruptly stilled.

"Perhaps I ought to come here every evening and walk about," I remarked, concealing my horror and disgust under a mask of levity.

"I keep forgetting how vile it is," Ramses muttered. "Father will murder me when he finds out I brought you here."

"Then we probably should not tell him."

Ramses had sent a message ahead, so we were expected. I was enormously impressed by the bright, cheerful interior of the house and the admirable state of cleanliness that prevailed. The doctor was Syrian Christian; the women of that region have more freedom than their Egyptian counterparts, and are taking the lead in the women's movement.

Sophia showed us to her office and Ramses plunged at once into his reason for coming. He must have planned in advance exactly what to say, for he gave only the necessary facts without entering into such details as the child's striking resemblance to me and the name of the presumed father. "It was an attempt at blackmail," he finished. "Which did not succeed. We have tried to find the girl, for I feel certain she was not a willing participant in the scheme, and it is possible Kalaan might vent his anger on her. In which case she might come here."

Though Sophia was courteous enough to pretend she knew nothing of the matter, it was clear to me that she had heard some version of it—the most malicious and insulting version, probably. I also understood why Ramses had asked me to accompany him. She had been rather stiff and formal with us; I had believed it to be her normal manner until her stern face relaxed. My presence supported his explanation, which she might not have accepted otherwise.

"I see. I cannot recall anyone of that description. I will notify you at once if she does come here, but I am afraid it is unlikely. We are able to help so few."

We chatted for a while. She had heard of Nefret's marriage and asked me to convey her good wishes, adding, with a smile and a twinkle, that they understood why Nefret had not been able to spend much time at the clinic. I expressed my admiration for the work she was doing, and she shook her head sadly.

"My medical training is limited to gynecology, Mrs. Emerson. We need a surgeon, but where are we to get one? Even if we could find a man who would be willing to donate his services, it might get us in trouble with the religious authorities. There are so few women being trained in that specialty."

We were about to take our leave when she said, "Perhaps I ought not ask; but you said the child's father is English. Would he be able to help you locate the young woman?"

"He was a tourist," I said. "It was not a long-lasting relationship, I believe."

"Expressed with your well-known irony, Mrs. Emerson. They will do it, the irresponsible creatures."

"I believe you are being ironic now," I said. " 'Irresponsible' is certainly an understatement. Aside from the moral issues, they risk catching some singularly unpleasant diseases."

"How many men—and women—guide their actions according to safety and common sense?" was the inquiry. "The more sophisticated of them do take the usual precautions." She hesitated, her pleasant face hardening, and then added, "The
most
sophisticated use only girls who are ... who had remained untouched."