I did not at all mind his teasing me. It was such a relief to have him back with us, alive and relatively undamaged. “Certainly,” I said. “Let us begin with the assumption that he intended to save your life. If he had not taken you from the governor’s guards you would have been treated far less courteously.”
“I would be extremely surprised to discover that Sahin Bey – Pasha, I should say – acted out of kindness,” Ramses said. “He had an ulterior motive, and I doubt it was finding a husband for his daughter.”
“Why, then?” Emerson grunted. “If he wants to turn his coat and come over to us – unlikely on the face of it – he wouldn’t need a good word from you. The War Office would sell their souls and those of all their mothers and grandmothers to get the head of the Turkish secret service on our side.”
Ramses scratched absently at the scraped flesh on his jaw. “I agree, Father.”
“All the same, HQ must be notified.”
“I’ve already done so. Why do you suppose I’m wearing this bloody damned uniform? I was in the water long enough to wash the dye off my skin, but I hadn’t any clothes except the bare necessities, and I’d never have got to General Chetwode looking the way I did.” Ramses added, “I expect the officer I waylaid holds a bit of a grudge; I had to borrow his uniform without his consent. He oughtn’t wander so far from camp.”
Emerson knew his son too well to misinterpret his lighthearted manner. “What did General Chetwode say?”
Ramses shrugged. “What could he say but ‘Bad luck, old boy, glad you made it back after all’? Our Chetwode had already left for Cairo to make his report.”
“He was in something of a hurry to get out of town, wasn’t he?” Emerson mused. “How much did you tell the general?”
“I am not telling anyone any more than I have to,” Ramses said tightly. “Nobody is telling me anything. I’ll be damned if I can understand who is actually running this stunt. Apparently General Chetwode didn’t know what his nephew intended to do, he was only told we were going to investigate and reconnoiter. I didn’t mention the girl, or Sahin’s proposition. The general is under the impression that I cleverly escaped all by my little self. I’m sorry, I ought to have come here straightaway, but -”
“Bah,” said Emerson gruffly. “You did what you had to do. I still say the girl couldn’t have managed it on her own. The young, spoiled daughter of an aristocrat, raised in the harem -”
“She’d been exposed to Western ideas and Western schooling,” Ramses interrupted. “Your basic point is well taken, however. Someone helped her, but it need not have been her father.”
“Ah,” said Emerson.
“I’m sorry, Father. I ought to have made a greater effort to find him.”
“Don’t be absurd,” I said forcibly. “You could not have eluded recapture for long, and if you had not turned up, your father would have gone into Gaza looking for you.”
“Perhaps I ought to have let him go in my place.” Ramses leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. The dark stains of exhaustion under his eyes were very visible. “I made a thorough muckup of the whole business. I’m sorry…”
Nefret was sitting cross-legged on the divan next to him. She stood up, the bracelets on her ankles and wrists jingling musically. “Stop saying you’re sorry!”
“Quite right,” Emerson exclaimed. “I am the one who should apologize, my boy, for badgering you. Go and get some rest.”
Ramses sat up, propping his heavy head with his hands. “It might have been him. There wasn’t time to get a good look. I couldn’t determine whether the soldiers were guarding a prisoner or protecting a holy man. But the mere fact that I am here, and not in Sahin’s cell, is a strong indication that Sethos is in Gaza. Unless that is what we are meant to believe… Sorry. I seem to be adding to the deadwood instead of clearing it away.”
“You didn’t have time to question the girl, I suppose,” I said. “And don’t say you’re sorry again!”
Ramses summoned up a feeble grin. “Yes, Mother. I did ask who had helped her. She claimed no one had, that it was all her doing.”
“She lied,” I said. “Quite understandable; she wanted the credit and your – er – gratitude.”
Ramses shook his head. “I don’t think so. Her fear was genuine. You know how Sethos operates. If it was he who arranged my escape, he’d have found a way of supplying her with everything she needed while leaving her with the impression that the whole thing had been her idea.”
“But how did he manage it?” I demanded. “He had less than twelve hours to come up with a plan and carry it out. He must have known the identity of Sahin’s prisoner, for surely he would not have taken such a risk for a stranger. How did he find out it was you?”
“That question hadn’t occurred to me.” Ramses sat up straighter. “And it may be significant. Could that have been why Sahin didn’t pop me into his little cell straightaway? Damn it, yes! He put me on display – beardless and bareheaded, easily recognizable – and when they did take me downstairs they paraded me through most of the house first. If Sethos was staying in the same house…” His brief animation faded. “It still doesn’t answer the most important questions.”
“Yes, yes,” Emerson said gruffly. “We’ll talk about it later. Take him away, Nefret.”
Ramses got slowly to his feet. “Take me where?”
“To my little private cubicle,” Nefret said, drawing his arm over her shoulders.
“Are there any peepholes in the walls?”
“Probably. Does it matter?”
“That depends.” He smiled down into her upturned face and brushed her cheek with his fingertips.
“I don’t suppose it does matter,” I admitted. “By this time everyone in town will know we have dealings with British officers, and that we may not be what we seem. I do strongly urge, however, that you rest instead of – er -”
“Of course, Mother.” Nefret turned her head and gave me a bewitching smile.
“That was an extremely impertinent and unsolicited bit of advice,” Emerson said, after they had left the room. “She’ll look after him. And – er – cheer him up. The boy is too hard on himself.”
“He always has been,” I said, taking no notice of the criticism. “It wasn’t his fault, it was the fault of the confounded War Office. Shall I begin packing?”
“No, my dear. What’s your hurry?”
“I would have supposed,” I said, with a certain amount of sarcasm, “that you would want to go in pursuit of the conscienceless villain who sent your son to risk torture and death.”
“All in due course, Peabody. We went to considerable trouble to get this close to Gaza, and I’m damned if I am going to leave before I’ve learned what we came here to learn.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“We could wait for him to come to us. That is your favorite method of investigation, I believe.”
“You mean Sethos, I suppose.”
“Sethos or anyone else who decides we are a threat to his plans.” He settled himself on the divan and beckoned to me. “Come and sit by me, my love. We’ve had little enough privacy these past few days.”
I acceded at once, but as his strong arm wrapped round me and drew me close to his side, I felt obliged to remind him of the peepholes. Emerson only chuckled. “It is time I paid a few attentions to my elder wife. Give me a kiss.”
“In English?” I exclaimed.
“Kisses are a universal language,” said Emerson.
I was so touched by this poetic sentiment, I suffered the prickles of the beard without objection. When I had got my breath back, I said suspiciously, “You are in a very cheerful mood, I must say. What are you concealing from me?”
“I have no intention of concealing anything from you, my dear. I didn’t want to keep Ramses from his bed – er – his rest any longer; but he made an interesting point. If Sethos was staying in the same house… He must have been, mustn’t he? Not only did he know Ramses’s identity, but he had access to the girl. Now listen closely, Peabody…”