He came straight to me and removed his hat. “Good morning, Amelia. At your rubbish again, I see.”
He looked well. I observed that first: the healthy color in his face, the upright frame and easy pose. A neatly wound turban concealed his hair, and a magnificent coal-black beard hid the lower part of his face. The tweed suit was not the one he had borrowed from Ramses; it was new and very well cut. In short, he was the picture of a distinguished Oriental gentleman, possibly an official of high rank who had, as his accent indicated, been educated at an English university. Cyrus might be able to identify him as the surly, silent individual who had been his guest the year before, but I doubted any of the others who had known him so briefly would be able to do so.
“A fondness for beards must run in the family,” I remarked.
“You could hardly expect me to appear in Luxor without one, my dear. Some sharp-eyed person might notice I bear a resemblance to a certain well-known Egyptologist.”
“How am I to introduce you?”
“Cousin Ismail, of course. I rather like the name.”
He turned and offered his hand as Emerson came hurrying toward us.
The cordial reception he received seemed to surprise him a little. Nefret gave him a kiss, and Cyrus a hearty handshake, a knowing smile, and an invitation to visit the tomb. Sethos had to hear all about its discovery first; he congratulated Bertie and Jumana, who didn’t know quite what to make of him, but who were flattered by his interest. After luncheon we all went up to the platform outside the tomb. Sethos crawled in and out of the passage, and then brushed himself off and remarked, “You’ve quite a job ahead of you, Vandergelt. I would be happy to recommend a good restorer. I suspect you may need one, some of the organic materials appear to be in a delicate condition.”
“Are you an archaeologist, sir?” Jumana asked.
“I have had a good deal of experience in the field,” said Sethos smoothly. He glanced casually at the rock face above the entrance. It was the first time I had noticed the symbol – a roughly carved circle divided by a curving line.
Ramses waited until Bertie and Jumana and Cyrus had started down the ladder before he spoke. “I hope you don’t mind, sir. I took the liberty -”
Sethos grinned. “I was about to suggest it myself. The Master’s mark may not deter every thief in Gurneh, but it still carries some weight. By the by, are you acquainted with that lot?”
From the height where we stood, the Albions’s carriage was clearly visible. It had been there for several hours.
“We know them slightly,” I said. “Do you?”
“Albion was one of my best customers. I stopped dealing with him a few years ago, after he tried to cheat me.”
“Cheat you?” Emerson repeated. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone could.”
“Dear me, Radcliffe, was that meant to be sarcastic? He didn’t succeed. Watch out for him, that’s all I’m saying.”
When we parted for the day, Cyrus apologized for not inviting “Cousin Ismail” to dinner. “Got to stand guard tonight,” he explained. “But we’re expecting the door to arrive in a day or two; once that is up and secured, we hope, sir, to see a great deal of you. I would very much enjoy a private chat.”
“Thank you,” said my brother-in-law.
I had assumed he would stay with us. He said he had made other arrangements, but would be delighted to join us for tea and an early supper. Jumana’s presence prevented conversation of a personal nature, and when we got to the house Sennia was waiting on the veranda.
“So this is Sennia,” said Sethos, offering his hand. “I have heard a great deal about you – all to your credit, and all well deserved, I see.”
He had a way with women of all ages, and Sennia was no exception. Immensely flattered at the grown-up speech and gesture, she gravely shook hands with him. “Thank you, sir. I have not heard about you, though. Are you a friend of ours?”
“A very old friend” was the smiling reply. “Isn’t that so, Radcliffe?”
“You call him Radcliffe?” Sennia spread her skirts in a ladylike manner and took the chair he held for her. “He doesn’t like to be called that, you know.”
“I had no idea,” Sethos exclaimed. “What shall I call him, then?”
“Well, I call him Professor,” Sennia explained. “Aunt Amelia calls him Emerson, or ‘my dear,’ and Nefret calls him Father, which he is, and Ramses calls him ‘sir,’ and some people call him ‘Father of Curses.’ ”
“Perhaps ‘sir’ would be best,” said Sethos, wrinkling his brow. “What do you think, Sennia?”
I decided it was time to intervene. Emerson was biting his lip and muttering. “Speaking of names,” I said, “perhaps you would allow us – your old friends – to use your given name.”
“Call me anything you like, Amelia dear” was the smiling and uninformative response.
At least it got us off the subject of names, though Sethos continued to address his brother deferentially as ‘sir,’ which made Emerson swear under his breath.
“Do you know Mr. Vandergelt too?” Sennia asked.
“Oh, yes. One might say I know him as well as he knows himself.” He left Sennia to puzzle over this enigmatic remark, which the rest of us understood quite well. “I have not met Mrs. Vandergelt, though, or her son.”
“Can we have a party?” Sennia asked eagerly.
“We must certainly arrange something,” I remarked. “But it will have to wait until the tomb is locked up.”
“A wise precaution,” Sethos agreed gravely. “One never knows, does one?”
“We are glad to have you here, sir,” Nefret said. “You will stay, we hope, for Cyrus’s celebration.”
“He has good reason to celebrate,” Sethos said. “And I understand you and your husband have another cause for rejoicing.”
“How did you – how do you -?” Nefret gasped.
“I have my sources,” said Sethos. He held out his hand, and when he spoke the mockery was gone from his face and voice. “I wish you joy, Nefret. And you, Ramses. I suppose you’ll be returning to England before long?”
“Our child will be born in Egypt, as is fitting,” Nefret said. “Do you suppose I’d allow a pompous male English physician to take care of me, when there are two trained women obstetricians on the staff of my hospital?”
“What about you?” Emerson demanded of Sethos.
“I’m in no hurry to leave. England hasn’t much to offer me.” He smiled wickedly at his brother.
Emerson’s face reddened. “Neither has Luxor.”
“My dear fellow, I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your activities. In fact, I would be delighted to assist in any possible manner.”
“Ha,” said Emerson.
Nefret turned her chuckle into a cough.
After dinner the men went off to stand guard. Emerson declined, with thanks, Sethos’s offer to join them.
“Do you suppose he will ever get over suspecting my intentions?” inquired my brother-in-law, after we had retired to the sitting room.
“Perhaps,” Nefret suggested, “if you would get over teasing him…”
“I can’t resist, Nefret. He’s such an easy mark. I was teasing, though, when I implied I would stay on here. I must leave tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Nefret exclaimed. Impulsively she placed her hand on his shoulder. “You will miss Cyrus’s party. We want to keep you with us a while longer.”