“There is no reason to suppose they are together, Bertie,” Nefret said. “But we’ll have a look round.”
The gardens were one of the showplaces of Luxor, planted with exotic trees and shrubs. They, too, had been decorated for the occasion; colorful lanterns hung from the branches, and benches and chairs were scattered about. A number of the guests were enjoying the cool air and the scent of night blossoms. Winding paths led in and out of the shrubbery.
“You go that way,” Bertie said. “I’ll go the other.”
Nefret would have been the first to admit she had been remiss, but she couldn’t believe there was any real danger to Jumana. Not here, in the public gardens, with so many people about. If the girl had let Sebastian bring her here, she was guilty of nothing worse than indiscretion. Nefret had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to convince Bertie of that. His jaw was set.
“I’m coming with you,” she said. “Wait for me.”
He had already plunged into the nearest path. She picked up her skirts and ran after him.
They had almost reached the end of the path, where it curved back toward the hotel, before Nefret heard a man’s voice, low and intimate, the words indistinguishable; and Jumana’s reply, high-pitched and quavering. “No, I am not afraid, but I want to go back now.”
Sebastian laughed softly. “Not yet.”
Nefret filled her lungs and shouted, “Jumana!”
Jumana came flying out of the shadows. Bertie went flying into them. He dragged Sebastian out into the light and raised his fist.
“Stop them,” Nefret exclaimed. “They’re going to fight!”
“It looks that way,” said Ramses, behind her. “Go ahead, Bertie, give him a good one.”
Bertie let go of Sebastian’s lapel and stepped back. “He’s wearing eyeglasses. I can’t hit a chap who -”
Sebastian’s fist connected neatly and scientifically with Bertie’s jaw, knocking him over backward.
13
“Really,” I said in exasperation, “I cannot decide which of this evening’s outlandish activities to discuss first.”
“I can,” said Emerson. “Good Gad, Bertie, don’t you know better than to fight like a gentleman?”
We had left the party somewhat precipitately. I had known the moment I set eyes on him that Emerson had been up to something, but before I could interrogate him Nefret had run in to tell me Jumana was in hysterics and Bertie was nursing a lump on his jaw and a bump on his head and that Ramses was chasing Sebastian Albion through the gardens and that – in short, we had better go at once. We collected the others, including Ramses, who had cooled off enough to be tractable, and took them away. Since our house was nearer than the Castle, we had all gone there. Having removed coat, waistcoat, and tie, with a glass of whiskey and soda in his hand, Emerson felt in a proper frame of mind to lecture.
“Bear in mind, my boy,” he went on, “that there is no purpose in fighting unless you mean to win. Never mind all that nonsense about fair play.”
“I’ll remember that next time, sir,” Bertie said.
“I sincerely hope there will not be a next time,” Katherine exclaimed. “Nefret, are you certain he doesn’t have a concussion, or a fractured skull, or -”
“He did not fall very hard,” said Jumana.
We all turned to look at her. She had wept on Nefret’s shoulder – Ramses having refused to offer his – all the way back, but whether from distress or pure excitement I would have hesitated to say.
“I am sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean… But why is everyone angry with me? Why did Bertie want to fight with Sebastian? He was very polite, he only -”
“Kept you there after you had said you wanted to go,” Nefret cut in. “Would he have continued to be polite, do you think, if we hadn’t arrived when we did?”
Jumana’s lips trembled.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Bertie muttered. “She didn’t understand.”
“Well, perhaps she didn’t,” I conceded. “I assumed… So I neglected to give her my little lecture. You remember the one, Nefret?”
“Very well,” said Nefret, her tight lips relaxing. “I gave her the same lecture less than an hour ago. Evidently it didn’t make an impression.”
She went to Jumana and lifted her out of her chair by her shoulders. “Have I your full attention now, Jumana? Bertie behaved tonight as any decent man would, coming to the assistance of an inexperienced young girl who is about to be…” She glanced at me, and went on, “… taken advantage of by an unscrupulous scoundrel. He’d have done it for any girl, Jumana, so don’t preen yourself! The only mistake he made was in playing by the rules and expecting Sebastian to do the same. Now go to your room and think about what I’ve said, unless you want to apologize to Bertie and thank him.”
Red-faced and stuttering, Bertie exclaimed, “Oh, I say, she doesn’t owe me an apology. It was – well, it was – what one does, you know. Only I didn’t do it awfully well. I mean -”
Jumana burst into tears and ran out of the room. Bertie smiled apologetically. “I seem to have mucked it up, as usual. Shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
“You weren’t the only one,” Ramses said. He had also divested himself of his extraneous garments and was sitting on the floor by Nefret’s chair. “I made an even greater fool of myself, crashing through the shrubbery after him. I’ll probably get a bill from the hotel tomorrow for damaged plants.”
“One good thing has come of it,” I declared. “We now understand the reason for the Albions’ politeness to Jumana. That disgusting young man still had – er – designs on her. Your warning to him, Ramses, only spurred him on. Some men, I believe, would consider an innocent girl a challenge.”
“And safer than the brothels,” Ramses murmured.
“Please, Ramses.”
“I beg your pardon, Mother. I wouldn’t deny that one of Sebastian’s motives was seduction, but isn’t it somewhat strange that his father and mother would conspire with him? Especially his mother.”
“Bah,” Emerson declared. “She thinks the Albions, father and son, are entitled to use any means possible to get anything they want. They want Jamil’s tomb. They believe Jumana can help them find it. It isn’t difficult to understand why they are so keen. Jamil gave them enough to whet their appetites.”
He smiled provocatively at me.
“So that is where you were tonight,” I said. “I suspected as much.”
“No, Peabody, you didn’t suspect a cursed thing, or you would have insisted on going with me, and you’d have been caught in the act, as I almost was.”
“Tell us all about it,” said Nefret, her dimples showing.
“I have every intention of doing so, if the rest of you have finished chattering. It wasn’t my fault that I was almost caught,” Emerson went on. “One of the cursed sufragis turned up while I was trying my skeleton keys in the lock. He recognized me, of course, so I sent him on his way with a fistful of money and a few small curses. Once inside, I assumed my disguise.”
He paused – ostensibly to sip his whiskey. I didn’t ask why he had bothered with a disguise. A disguise is its own excuse as far as Emerson is concerned.
“You may well ask,” Emerson continued, smirking at me, “why I bothered with a disguise. It was a necessary precaution. If I had been found inside the room, by one of the Albions or a servant, the individual would only have caught a glimpse of a bearded Egyptian before I made my getaway, through the window or out the door. In fact, I was not disturbed. I had ample time to search all the rooms, which were interconnected. The loot, if I may so express it, was in Albion’s room. He and his wife occupy separate bedchambers.”
“That is an extraneous fact, Emerson,” I said. “And none of our business.”
“One never knows what may be relevant, Peabody. It is possible, though not probable, that she is unaware of Albion’s dealings with Jamil. He had a boxful of artifacts, including some fragments of the painting of Khonsu. Jamil must have sold him those and hinted that they were a meaningful clue. The lad had quite a sense of humor. As for the rest… Here’s the list, as nearly as I can remember. First, another cosmetic jar like the one you purchased, with the cartouche intact. It was, as Ramses deduced, that of the God’s Wife Shepenwepet. Second and third, two ushebtis inscribed for the same woman, approximately eight inches high, of blue-green faience. Fourth, and most remarkable, a sistrum of bronze inlaid with gold.” He took a sheet of paper from the table beside him. “I did this while you were all fussing over Bertie,” he explained. “My artistic skills are not as good as David’s, but I wanted to capture the details while I remembered them.”