Seeing a Large Cat (4 page)

I ran out of breath and Emerson said, "And furthermore, you have planned one of your confounded social affairs. Curse it, Peabody, you know how I hate them! When?"

I had indeed arranged one of my popular dinner parties, at which we renewed old acquaintances with archaeological friends and got caught up on the news. They had become an annual custom and were, I had been assured, greatly enjoyed by all who participated. Emerson enjoyed them too; he only complained because he had got in the habit of complaining.

My principal reasons for delaying our departure were, however, precisely the ones I have mentioned. We were busy all next day laying in supplies and buying new clothes for the boys. At least / was busy. Ramses grudgingly agreed to have his measurements taken by boot makers and tailors; after that he and David went off together, ostensibly to finish their shopping. When they returned to the dahabeeyah that evening the dusty, wrinkled condition of their garments strongly suggested they had been prowling the narrow alleys of the old town. Both reeked of tobacco.

They got away from me before I could deliver the lecture I intended, with the disingenuous excuse that it was late and they wanted to wash up and change before dinner. I turned in exasperation to Emerson, who was placidly sipping his whiskey and stroking the cat. The cat in question was Sekhmet, who had coolly pushed her father, Anubis, off Emerson's knee in order to take his place. Anubis, growling under his breath, had gone off to a corner to sulk.

"Emerson, you must talk to them. Heaven only knows where they went today, and I suspect they were smoking cigarettes."

"We can count ourselves fortunate if that is all they were smoking," Emerson said. "I don't approve of young people indulging in tobacco either." He paused to fill his pipe. "But it is not so harmful as hashish."

"I didn't smell that on their clothes," I admitted.

"Or-er-anything else?" Emerson inquired.

"I don't know what you mean, Emerson. That is ... Good gracious! You are not suggesting they may have gone to.. . .

To be with . . . They are only boys, they aren't old enough to..."

"Now, Peabody, calm yourself and listen. I know it is difficult for a fond mother to admit that her little boy is growing up, but you cannot go on treating Ramses like a child. He has led an unusual life. One might say he stands astride two worlds. In one of them he is still a schoolboy-but let me assure you, Peabody, lads of his age even in England are old enough to-er-well, you understand me. In Egypt, where Ramses has spent most of his life, some of his contemporaries are already husbands and fathers. The experiences of this past summer have surely strengthened the influence of that second world. You may be certain the sheikh gave him the full responsibilities and privileges of an adult."

"Heavens!" I exclaimed. "I cannot believe you mean . . . What do you mean?"

Emerson patted my hand. "I mean that Ramses-and David- are now of an age where they are more likely to heed my advice than yours. I am convinced they are not so lacking in good sense or moral fortitude as to consort with those poor, wretched women in El Was'a, but you may be sure I will raise the subject with both of them. Suppose you leave the lectures to me, eh? That goes for you, too, Nefret."

"Oh, good Gad," I exclaimed. She had been so quiet I had forgot she was there-curled up in her favorite place on the divan, reading-or I would never have allowed Emerson to refer, however obliquely, to such a shocking subject.

Nefret said coldly, "If I believed either of them would so degrade himself, I would do more than lecture."

"They wouldn't," Emerson said, sounding a little rattled. "So don't. Enough of this. I cannot imagine how we get onto such subjects."

The arrival of the steward with the daily post ended the discussion, though it certainly did not stop me thinking about it. Emerson sorted through the letters and messages and passed on the ones directed to me or to Nefret. "Two for you, Ramses," he said as the boys came in. "And one for David."

The aura of attar of roses, which I had not, thank heaven, detected on Ramses's clothes, now wafted strongly to me from the dainty pink envelope he held in his hand. "Whom is that from?" I demanded.

"Have another whiskey, Peabody," Emerson said loudly.

I took the hint, and the whiskey, and looked through my own messages. Several were invitations. I reported these to Emerson, who told me to decline all of them, including the last, which was from Colonel Bellingham.

"I've no intention of wasting an entire evening with him and his silly daughter," Emerson grumbled.

"This note is from her," Ramses said. "Repeating her father's invitation."

Instead of handing me the paper, he folded it and tucked it into his pocket. Sekhmet, making the rounds of various laps, had moved from Emerson's to David's; now she settled herself onto Ramses's knee. He ignored her and opened his second letter.

"Nothing of interest," Nefret announced, tossing her messages aside. "Invitations I shan't accept and a particularly silly effusion from Monsieur le Comte de la Roche which I shan't answer."

"Another of the victims?" David inquired-for so he and Ramses called Nefret's admirers.

"He has been sending her flowers and gifts since they met at a party last week," I said with a frown. "You haven't encouraged him, have you, Nefret?"

"Good heavens, no, Aunt Amelia. His chin is positively concave."

"Perhaps you had better write him a stiff note, Emerson. Tell him his attentions are unwanted."

"Mmmm," said Emerson, who was reading the letter from Evelyn that David had passed on to him.

"I am going to the museum tomorrow," Nefret announced. "Ramses, you said you would . . . Ramses? What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Ramses said slowly. His eyes were fixed on the letter. "Only unexpected. Mother, do you remember Mrs. Fraser-Miss Debenham, as she was before she married?"

"Certainly, though it has been years since we were in communication with her. Is that-"

"From her, yes. She is in Egypt-in Cairo, to be precise."

"Why would she write to you instead of to me?"

"I don't know. She says ... But perhaps you had better see for yourself."

"Who is Mrs. Fraser?" Nefret demanded.

Ramses handed me the letter and answered his sister. "A young lady we-Mother, that is-saved from an accusation of murder some years ago.* She married one of the other suspects, a fellow named Donald Fraser."

"And lived happily ever after?"

"Apparently not," I said. Emerson was watching me curiously, for the name had, of course, aroused his interest. "What an odd letter! It is very rambling-almost incoherent. She says she saw us yesterday, on the terrace at Shepheard's, but does not explain why she did not greet us at that time, or why she requests a meeting with us in terms of some urgency."

Ramses said softly, "Us?"

"Why, yes. She says..." I read the relevant sentences aloud. "'Seeing you again recalled memories of bygone days, and a promise you once made. I wonder if you also remember it? Please, may I see you and speak with you? My husband and I are at the Hotel Continental...' Hmph."

*Lion in the Valley

"Quite," said Ramses. "The pronoun 'you' can be singular or plural, but does not the context suggest that it is I she means?"

"It does," Emerson agreed. "Did you make her a promise, Ramses?"

Ramses let out an exclamation and pulled his hand away from me cat. She had wrapped her front paws around his wrist and was enthusiastically licking his fingers.

"Disgusting," he muttered, wiping his hand on his trousers.

"It is a sign of affection," Nefret said. "Bastet often-"

"This creature is slobbering, not licking." Sekhmet rolled over and gazed with idiotic admiration at Ramses, who went on irritably, "Whatever prompted you to name her after the goddess of war? She is hopelessly affectionate and completely without discrimination."

He scooped up the cat and put her on the floor. "Is it time for dinner? I am hungry."

We took our places at the table, for dinner was indeed ready, and Mahmud had been waiting to serve. I caught Nefret's eye; she shrugged and shook her head. Our little scheme for finding a new feline companion for Ramses had obviously been unsuccessful.

And complaining about Sekhmet had enabled him to avoid answering Emerson's question.

I could not remember that he had made a promise to Enid. I was surprised that she had remembered. Ramses had been only seven or eight years old at the time. She had had a wholly unaccountable fondness for him, though, and he had been quite attached to her, probably because she had listened with a well-bred pretense of interest to his interminable lectures on Egyptology.

Matters were becoming interesting. Threats, or warnings, from some unknown party, an unspecified peril awaiting us in tomb Twenty-A, and an old friend in distress. Naturally I intended to deal with Enid's little trouble myself. A child's promise, however well meant, was of no importance. There was nothing Ramses could do for Enid that I could not do better.

Chapter Two

There is nothing like continued proximity to strip away the veils of romance.

At breakfast the following morning I informed Ramses I had written Enid inviting her, and of course her husband, to take tea with us at Shepheard's that day.

His dark brows drew together. "Why not here? I had intended-"

"That is just why I took it upon myself to respond," I explained in a kindly manner. "You have a great deal to learn about the subtleties of social intercourse, Ramses. Inviting them here would indicate a degree of intimacy we may not wish to encourage."

"But-"

"We have not seen them for years, Ramses, and the initial acquaintanceship was based on circumstances of an extraordinary nature which are not likely to recur."

"I should hope not," Emerson grunted. "See here, Amelia, if you allow this young woman to drag you into another criminal investigation-or, even worse, romantic entanglement-"

"My dear, that is precisely what I am trying to avoid," I said soothingly. "Not that I have any reason to suppose either of those difficulties has arisen." "Hmph," said Emerson. "No doubt you are right, Mother," Ramses said. "You always are." After we had crossed the Kasr en Nil Bridge we separated in order to pursue our various errands. The shopping was of course left to me. Having permitted themselves to be measured for various articles of attire, neither of the lads saw any reason to return to the establishments in question, and when I mentioned items such as handkerchiefs and stockings they informed me that they had got everything they needed, and that if I felt anything else were necessary, I was at liberty to supply it. Emerson's vigorous nod indicated that he was in complete agreement with this statement.

This suited me quite well, for I do not particularly enjoy being accompanied into shops by bored male persons who keep looking at their watches and inquiring how much longer I will be. Emerson and the boys went on to the museum, where we were all to meet later, and Nefret and I proceeded to the Shari'a Kamel and the Muski, where many of the establishments carrying European goods are located. I had found a shop that would make parasols to my specifications, with a strong steel shaft and a somewhat pointed tip, and had ordered two new ones. Stout as they were, my parasols tended to wear out rather quickly; I had to purchase at least one every year.

I was pleased to find the parasols ready, and after brandishing them experimentally in order to test the weight, I told the shop-keeper (after he had come out from under the counter) to send them to the dahabeeyah. Nefret had declined a parasol; while admitting its all-round usefulness, she preferred to carry a knife. We selected a new one of good Sheffield steel, and after completing the remainder of our shopping, we proceeded to the museum.

The previous year the antiquities collections had been moved from the old palace of Gizeh to a new building in the Isma'iliyeh district It was a handsome structure of yellow stucco in the Graeco-Roman style, with a pillared porch in front and in front of that a bare space that would one day be a garden. At the moment it was adorned with a few spindly palm trees and a large marble sarcophagus-no ancient relic, but a modern monument in which rested the remains of Auguste Mariette, the revered founder of the Service des Antiquites.

The boys were waiting for us next to the bronze statue of Mariette. David swept off his hat; Ramses raised a hand to his brow and looked surprised to discover he was not wearing a hat. He had had one on when we left the boat. I did not bother asking what he had done with it. Hats and Ramses were not compatible. I had come to believe it was a hereditary trait.

"Where is your father?" I asked.

"He went off on some errand or other," Ramses replied. "Since he chose not to volunteer information concerning his destination or his intentions, I did not inquire. He said he would meet us here at the agreed-upon hour."

I was pleased to hear this. Emerson always loses his temper when he visits the museum, and it is necessary for me to be with him in order to prevent him from storming into the office of the director and calling him rude names. "Have you paid your respects to M. Maspero?" I inquired.

"He was not in his office," Ramses said. "We spoke with Herr Brugsch. I-er-happened to mention to him that Father would be along shortly."

Emerson does not get on well with very many Egyptologists, but he had a set of special curses reserved for Emile Brugsch, Maspero's assistant, whom he considered both incompetent and dishonest.

"Ah," I said. "So Brugsch will take care not to be in his office either. Well done, Ramses."

"Well done?" Nefret exclaimed. "If Brugsch and Maspero have both left, how am I to get permission to see my mummy? Curse it, Ramses, you promised-"

"I asked about it," Ramses said. "Unfortunately, the mummy in question appears to have been misplaced."

"What?" It was my turn to be outraged. "Our mummy? Lost, do you mean?"

"Brugsch assured me it was not lost, only-er-temporarily misplaced. They are still moving objects from the old museum. He is certain it will turn up."

"Turn up, indeed. Emerson is absolutely right to criticize Maspero's methods; there is no excuse for such slipshod measures now that the new museum has been built. But I see Emerson coming; for pity's sake don't mention this to him or he will explode."

After an affectionate exchange of greetings we entered the museum and went up the handsome staircase to the Galerie d'Honneur on the first floor, where the materials from Tetisheri's tomb were prominently displayed. As Maspero had been gracious enough to admit, they were one of the treasures of the museum, even though they did not include the mummy and coffins of the queen. What had become of them no one knew, not even ourselves; but there had been enough of the queen's funerary goods remaining to make a breathtaking display-ushabtis and statues, inlaid chests and alabaster jars, a throne-chair completely covered in gold leaf chased with delicate designs-and the piece de resistance, a chariot. When we found it in the queen's tomb it was in pieces, but all the parts were there, including the spoked wheels. The body, of wood covered with gesso and linen, had been carved and gilded, and we had had the devil of a job stabilizing the fragile materials so that they would not deteriorate any further than they already had. Emerson had himself supervised the removal of the chariot to Cairo and seen it reassembled in a large glass case. Every time we visited the museum he walked round and round the case, examining every inch of the precious thing to make certain no more bits had fallen off.

Unfortunately, they usually had. This put Emerson in a bad humor, and he began grumbling about everything he could think of. "Maspero ought to have kept everything together, curse it. The jewelry-"

"Is, as is proper, in the Jewel Room," I replied. "Where it can be more easily protected."

"Hmm," said Ramses. He was studying the padlocks on the wooden cases with a degree of interest that made me somewhat uncomfortable. But no, I assured myself. Ramses was older and more responsible now, and not even in his younger days would he have tried to rob the Cairo Museum. Not without an excellent reason, anyhow.

So we went next to the Jewel Room, where Ramses gravitated to the cases containing the Treasure of Dahshur, as the guidebooks called it-the jewels of the Twelfth Dynasty princesses discovered in 1894 and '95. The labels on those cases attributed the discovery to M. de Morgan, who had been Director of the Service des Antiquites. I had my doubts about the accuracy of that attribution and, to judge by his expression, so had Ramses. Since he had never actually admitted finding the jewelry before M. de Morgan-which would have been tantamount to admitting he had been guilty of illicit excavation-I had never asked him.

Nefret and Emerson stood before the case containing the Cushite royal scepters. Here again the official label was not entirely inaccurate. The scepters, magnificent examples of their kind, had been found in a remote wadi near the Valley of the Kings, by Professor and Mrs. Radcliffe Emerson; but they had been found in that location because we had put them there. Nefret had brought them away with her from the Lost Oasis, and since the very existence of that spot must never be disclosed to the world, we had been forced to engage in a small spot of misdirection in order to make the scepters accessible to the scholarly world.

Baedeker had given the Dahshur Treasure two stars. Tetisheri's jewelry awaited a new edition of that invaluable book for its evaluation, but I did not doubt it would rate at least as high. The queen's parure had included several massive gold bracelets, even finer than the ones that had belonged to her daughter, Queen Aahhotep, which rested in a nearby case. My favorite pieces were the beaded collars and bracelets, multiple strands of carnelian and turquoise, lapis lazuli and gold. They had been only a jumble of color when I first set eyes on them, lying on the floor of the burial chamber where they had fallen from the collapsed wooden case.

Standing beside me, David studied them with the same pride and interest. It was due to our joint efforts that the exquisite things had survived in their present form. We had spent hours studying the patterns of the fragments that had not fallen apart and restringing hundred of tiny beads in the same order. I had had considerable experience with such work, but I daresay I could not have done it so well without David. He had been trained by one of the finest forgers of antiquities in Luxor, and he had an artist's eye.

I gave his arm a little squeeze and he looked down at me with a reminiscent smile. "There will never be anything like it again," he said softly. "What an experience that was!"

"You have hardly reached the peak of your career at eighteen," I assured him. "The best is certainly yet to come, David."

"Quite right," said Emerson. Jewelry is not one of his principal interests, and he had become bored. "Well, my dears, what shall we see next?"

"The royal mummies," Nefret said promptly.

Emerson was agreeable. Mummies are one of his interests, and he was certain he could find something in the exhibit to complain about The royal mummies had come for the most part from two caches, one in the cliffs above Deir el Bahri, the other in the tomb of Amenhotep II. In the old museum they had been dispersed in different rooms. Maspero had brought them together here, at the end of the same vestibule off which the Jewel Room was located. It was a very popular exhibit, and as we approached Emerson burst out, "Only look at those ghouls! The whole business is so unseemly it makes me wild with rage! I told Maspero he had no right to put those poor cadavers on display, as if they were artifacts; how would you like, I asked him, to be exposed naked to the stares of the vulgar?"

"That is certainly a grisly thought," said Ramses.

Nefret raised her hand to her mouth to hide her smile and I frowned reproachfully at Ramses, who pretended not to see. M. Maspero was quite stout, but that was no excuse for making fun of him.

David had missed the vulgar reference to poor M. Maspero. He was a serious, sensitive lad, who could probably claim a closer relationship with the remains than could any of the tourists who proposed to gape at them. Looking troubled, he said earnestly, "You are in the right, Professor. Perhaps we should express our repugnance by refusing to view the mummies."

"That is a different matter altogether," Emerson declared. "We are scholars. We are not moved by idle curiosity."

Ramses, in the lead as usual, was suddenly thrust aside by a figure that rushed precipitately through the crowd. It ran full tilt into Emerson, who is not easily thrust aside. Since the figure was that of a woman, my gallant husband did not push it away. Supporting her as she recoiled-for running into Emerson is rather like running into a large boulder-he said mildly, "Watch where you are going, madam. You are presently standing on my foot."

Rubbing her forehead, the lady looked up at him. Her incoherent apologies had barely begun before she interrupted them to exclaim, "Can it be you, Professor Emerson? But-but I believe we are engaged to have tea with you in an hour's time. What a strange coincidence!"

"Not at all," I said. "We frequently visit the museum and so, I fancy, do most serious-minded visitors to Cairo. It is good to see you again, Mrs. Fraser. Shall we just step aside, out of the way of the people who are waiting?"

Emerson, who had been staring fixedly at her, remembered his manners and introduced the rest of our party. I believe he was as shocked as I at how she had changed. She had been a handsome young creature, as vigorous and graceful as a tigress. Now her thick dark hair was streaked with silver and her shoulders slumped like those of an old woman. The alteration of her features was less easy to define; it was not so much a matter of pallor and wrinkles, but of expression-A haunted look in the fine dark eyes, a tight set to her mouth. To be sure, she was eight years older than she had been when we first met her, but that span of time should not have had such a devastating effect.

Conquering my amazement, I inquired, "Where is Mr. Fraser? Will he meet us at the hotel?"

Enid appeared not to hear the question. After acknowledging the introductions to Nefret and David, whom she had not met before, she had returned her gaze to Ramses. Offering her hand, she exclaimed, "Ramses! Forgive the familiarity, but it is difficult for me to think of you by any other name. I would scarcely have recognized you. You have grown up!"

"The passage of tune does have that effect," said Ramses. "Did something unpleasant occur in the Mummy Room, to prompt your precipitate departure from it?"

Enid laughed rather hollowly and raised her hand to her brow. "You have not changed so much after all. Direct as ever! No, don't apologize...."

(I cannot imagine why she supposed he was about to.)

"Nothing at all occurred," Enid went on. "It was just. . . They are so horrid, you know. One hideous, grinning face after another-suddenly I couldn't endure it."

From what I had heard it would not be the first time a foolish female had fainted or fled screaming from the room-though why the silly things would go there in the first place if they were so squeamish I could not imagine. Enid had never struck me as of a nervous temperament, however, and she at least ought to have known real mummies were not so pretty as the poetic descriptions in works of fiction.