Read Online The Hippopotamus Pool by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Detective and Mystery Stories, Fiction - Mystery, Large Type Books, Mystery & Detective - General, Egypt
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feet as small as a woman's. On them he wore dainty slippers so heavily embroidered with gold and sequins that the underlying fabric could not be seen. An emerald the size of a pullet's egg adorned his cloth-of-gold turban. By contrast, his robe was puritanically plain, without so much as a row of braid: light gray in color and voluminous as a tent, it caught the light with the rich glow of velvet. Squatting behind him, motionless as statues, were two men wearing a kind of livery consisting of loose trousers and matching vests and turbans of the same unadorned gray.
Emerson had come to a dead stop. "So," he said. "You are still alive. I hoped one of your innumerable enemies had finished you off."
Though the vast shape of his body resembled that of a beached whale, the fellow's face was heavy rather than fat, especially around the cleanshaven jaws and chin. They protruded like the muzzle of an animal, and when the wide lips parted, they displayed teeth yellow as old ivory.
"Courteous as ever, O Father of Curses," he said, in English almost as pure as Emerson's. "Will you not present me to the honored Sitt your wife and to your beautiful and talented children?"
The beautiful and talented children had, as I might have expected, followed us. The visitor appeared quite struck by them, especially by Nefret. He stared, openly and rudely, until Emerson stepped in front of the girl as if to shield her from that intent gaze.
"No, I will not," he said. "Nefret, we will join you in the saloon shortly. Go with her, Ramses."
When Emerson speaks in that particular tone, not even Ramses disobeys him. The visitor laughed. "Then I will present myself. You need no introduction, Sitt Hakim; your fame is in the streets and the suks and the palaces. I am Giovanni Riccetti."
"Good heavens. I know your name, of course." And indeed I did. Emerson had mentioned it on several occasions. In his time Riccetti had been the most notorious antiquities dealer in Egypt.
"You do me too much honor, Sitt. I have long looked forward to this moment."
"Never mind that," said Emerson. "What are you doing here? They said you had retired."
"I have. I live in scholarly seclusion, enjoying the modest fruits of my labors—my flowers and fountains, my books, my studies, other harmless—"
"Ha," said Emerson. "Your habits were not always so harmless, Riccetti. Come to the point. What do you want?"
"To be of service to you. Only the regard I feel for one so distinguished could have drawn me from my quiet courtyard, where the tinkle of fountains and the scent of roses ..." He broke off and raised a long pale hand, sparkling with gems. "Now, my friend, don't lose that notorious temper of yours, it is bad for your health. There are rumors in the suks that may affect your health as well. Did you have a visitor last evening?"
The flush of anger faded from Emerson's face, leaving it hard as granite. "You must know I did, or you would not ask."
"Would you care to tell me what transpired at that meeting?"
"No. Would you care to tell me why you have the impertinence to inquire? Do you know the fellow?"
"He was well known in certain circles."
"Those same circles in which you were once so prominent?"
"Whatever connections I once had were severed long ago. But I still. .. hear ... of certain matters."
Neither of them paid the least attention to me; eyes locked, they exchanged questions and answers in rapid succession, like fencers striking and parrying blows. I suspected this was not the first time they had faced one another thus, and that Emerson had learned that he must play the game by his opponent's rules if he hoped to gain any information.
He is not a patient man, however. His next question: "What matters?" was too blunt; it produced only a faint smile and a shrug.
Emerson tried again. "He called himself Saleh. What is his real name?"
"Leopold Abdullah Shelmadine. His father was English. He was employed as a clerk in the Interior Ministry."
Emerson was
Emerson had come to a dead stop. "So," he said. "You are still alive. I hoped one of your innumerable enemies had finished you off."
Though the vast shape of his body resembled that of a beached whale, the fellow's face was heavy rather than fat, especially around the cleanshaven jaws and chin. They protruded like the muzzle of an animal, and when the wide lips parted, they displayed teeth yellow as old ivory.
"Courteous as ever, O Father of Curses," he said, in English almost as pure as Emerson's. "Will you not present me to the honored Sitt your wife and to your beautiful and talented children?"
The beautiful and talented children had, as I might have expected, followed us. The visitor appeared quite struck by them, especially by Nefret. He stared, openly and rudely, until Emerson stepped in front of the girl as if to shield her from that intent gaze.
"No, I will not," he said. "Nefret, we will join you in the saloon shortly. Go with her, Ramses."
When Emerson speaks in that particular tone, not even Ramses disobeys him. The visitor laughed. "Then I will present myself. You need no introduction, Sitt Hakim; your fame is in the streets and the suks and the palaces. I am Giovanni Riccetti."
"Good heavens. I know your name, of course." And indeed I did. Emerson had mentioned it on several occasions. In his time Riccetti had been the most notorious antiquities dealer in Egypt.
"You do me too much honor, Sitt. I have long looked forward to this moment."
"Never mind that," said Emerson. "What are you doing here? They said you had retired."
"I have. I live in scholarly seclusion, enjoying the modest fruits of my labors—my flowers and fountains, my books, my studies, other harmless—"
"Ha," said Emerson. "Your habits were not always so harmless, Riccetti. Come to the point. What do you want?"
"To be of service to you. Only the regard I feel for one so distinguished could have drawn me from my quiet courtyard, where the tinkle of fountains and the scent of roses ..." He broke off and raised a long pale hand, sparkling with gems. "Now, my friend, don't lose that notorious temper of yours, it is bad for your health. There are rumors in the suks that may affect your health as well. Did you have a visitor last evening?"
The flush of anger faded from Emerson's face, leaving it hard as granite. "You must know I did, or you would not ask."
"Would you care to tell me what transpired at that meeting?"
"No. Would you care to tell me why you have the impertinence to inquire? Do you know the fellow?"
"He was well known in certain circles."
"Those same circles in which you were once so prominent?"
"Whatever connections I once had were severed long ago. But I still. .. hear ... of certain matters."
Neither of them paid the least attention to me; eyes locked, they exchanged questions and answers in rapid succession, like fencers striking and parrying blows. I suspected this was not the first time they had faced one another thus, and that Emerson had learned that he must play the game by his opponent's rules if he hoped to gain any information.
He is not a patient man, however. His next question: "What matters?" was too blunt; it produced only a faint smile and a shrug.
Emerson tried again. "He called himself Saleh. What is his real name?"
"Leopold Abdullah Shelmadine. His father was English. He was employed as a clerk in the Interior Ministry."
Emerson was
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