Read Online The Curse of the Pharaohs by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Crime & mystery, Egypt, Women archaeologists, Peabody, Amelia (Fictitious character), Archaeologists' spouses
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Emerson's arm relaxed and his cheeks turned red—though, I fear, with rising anger rather than shame. Seizing my hand, he proceeded at a brisk pace up the stairs. Mr. O'Connell trotted after us, spouting questions.
"Would you care to venture an opinion as to what has become of Mr. Armadale? Mrs. Emerson, will you take an active part in the excavation? Mr. Emerson, were you previously acquainted with Lady Baskerville? Was it, perhaps, old friendship that prompted you to accept such a perilous position?"
It is impossible to describe the tone of voice in which he uttered the word "friendship," or the indelicate overtone with which he invested that harmless word. I felt my own face grow warm with annoyance. Emerson let out a muted roar. His foot lashed out, and with a startled yelp Mr. O'Connell fell backward and rolled down the stairs.
As we reached the turn of the stair I glanced back and saw, to my relief, that Mr. O'Connell had taken no serious injury. He had already regained his feet and, surrounded by a staring crowd, was engaged in brushing off the seat of bis trousers. Meeting my eye, he had the effrontery to wink at me.
Emerson had his coat, tie, and half the buttons of his shirt off before I closed the door of our room.
"Hang it up," I said, as he was about to toss his coat onto a chair. "I declare, Emerson, that is the third shirt you have ruined since we left. Can you never learn—"
But I never finished the admonition. Obeying my order, Emerson had flung open the doors of the wardrobe. There was a flash of light and a thud; Emerson leaped back, one arm held at an unnatural angle. A bright line of red leaped up across his shirt sleeve. Crimson drops rained onto the floor, spattering the handle of the dagger that stood upright between Emerson's feet. Its haft still quivered with the force of its fall.
II
Emerson's hand clamped down on his forearm. The rush of blood slowed and stopped. A pain in the region of my chest reminded me that I was holding my breath. I let it out.
"That shirt was ruined in any case," I said. "Do, pray, hold your arm out so that you do not drip onto your good trousers."
I make it a rule always to remain calm. Nevertheless, it was with considerable speed that I crossed the room, snatching a towel from the washstand as I passed it. I had brought medical supplies with me, as is my custom; in a few moments I had cleaned and bandaged the wound which, fortunately, was not deep. I did not even mention a physician. I was confident that Emerson shared my own feelings on that matter. The news of an accident to the newly appointed director of the Luxor expedition could have disastrous consequences.
When I had finished I leaned back against the divan; and I confess I was unable to repress a sigh. Emerson looked at me seriously. Then a slight smile curved the corners of his mouth.
"You are a trifle pale, Peabody. I trust we are not going to have a display of female vapors?"
"I fail to see any humor in the situation."
"I am surprised at you. For my part, I am struck by the ludicrous ineptitude of the whole business. As nearly as I can make out, the knife was simply placed on the top shelf of the wardrobe, which rests somewhat insecurely on wooden pegs. The vigor of my movement in opening the door caused the weapon to topple out; it was pure accident that it struck me instead of falling harmlessly to the floor.
Nor could the unknown have been sure that I would be the one to...." As realization dawned, anger replaced the amusement on his face, and he cried out, "Good Gad, Peabody, you might have been seriously injured if you had been the one to open that wardrobe!"
"I thought you had concluded that no serious injury was contemplated," I reminded him. "No masculine vapors, Emerson, if you please. It was meant as a warning, nothing more."
"Or as an additional demonstration of the effectiveness of the pharaoh's curse. That seems more likely. No one who knows us would expect that we would be
"Would you care to venture an opinion as to what has become of Mr. Armadale? Mrs. Emerson, will you take an active part in the excavation? Mr. Emerson, were you previously acquainted with Lady Baskerville? Was it, perhaps, old friendship that prompted you to accept such a perilous position?"
It is impossible to describe the tone of voice in which he uttered the word "friendship," or the indelicate overtone with which he invested that harmless word. I felt my own face grow warm with annoyance. Emerson let out a muted roar. His foot lashed out, and with a startled yelp Mr. O'Connell fell backward and rolled down the stairs.
As we reached the turn of the stair I glanced back and saw, to my relief, that Mr. O'Connell had taken no serious injury. He had already regained his feet and, surrounded by a staring crowd, was engaged in brushing off the seat of bis trousers. Meeting my eye, he had the effrontery to wink at me.
Emerson had his coat, tie, and half the buttons of his shirt off before I closed the door of our room.
"Hang it up," I said, as he was about to toss his coat onto a chair. "I declare, Emerson, that is the third shirt you have ruined since we left. Can you never learn—"
But I never finished the admonition. Obeying my order, Emerson had flung open the doors of the wardrobe. There was a flash of light and a thud; Emerson leaped back, one arm held at an unnatural angle. A bright line of red leaped up across his shirt sleeve. Crimson drops rained onto the floor, spattering the handle of the dagger that stood upright between Emerson's feet. Its haft still quivered with the force of its fall.
II
Emerson's hand clamped down on his forearm. The rush of blood slowed and stopped. A pain in the region of my chest reminded me that I was holding my breath. I let it out.
"That shirt was ruined in any case," I said. "Do, pray, hold your arm out so that you do not drip onto your good trousers."
I make it a rule always to remain calm. Nevertheless, it was with considerable speed that I crossed the room, snatching a towel from the washstand as I passed it. I had brought medical supplies with me, as is my custom; in a few moments I had cleaned and bandaged the wound which, fortunately, was not deep. I did not even mention a physician. I was confident that Emerson shared my own feelings on that matter. The news of an accident to the newly appointed director of the Luxor expedition could have disastrous consequences.
When I had finished I leaned back against the divan; and I confess I was unable to repress a sigh. Emerson looked at me seriously. Then a slight smile curved the corners of his mouth.
"You are a trifle pale, Peabody. I trust we are not going to have a display of female vapors?"
"I fail to see any humor in the situation."
"I am surprised at you. For my part, I am struck by the ludicrous ineptitude of the whole business. As nearly as I can make out, the knife was simply placed on the top shelf of the wardrobe, which rests somewhat insecurely on wooden pegs. The vigor of my movement in opening the door caused the weapon to topple out; it was pure accident that it struck me instead of falling harmlessly to the floor.
Nor could the unknown have been sure that I would be the one to...." As realization dawned, anger replaced the amusement on his face, and he cried out, "Good Gad, Peabody, you might have been seriously injured if you had been the one to open that wardrobe!"
"I thought you had concluded that no serious injury was contemplated," I reminded him. "No masculine vapors, Emerson, if you please. It was meant as a warning, nothing more."
"Or as an additional demonstration of the effectiveness of the pharaoh's curse. That seems more likely. No one who knows us would expect that we would be
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