Read Online The Mummy Case by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery Fiction, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Women Detectives, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Excavations (Archaeology), Egypt, Mystery & Detective - Series, Women archaeologists, Peabody, Amelia (Fictitious character), Elizabeth - Prose & Criticism, Peters, Women detectives - Egypt
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Walter were discussing. You yourself said that some new player must have entered the game—some unknown genius of crime, who has organized the independent thieves into one great conspiracy."
"I said no such thing! I only suggested—"
"Abd el Atti is a member of the gang. His reference to the Master eating his heart—"
"Picturesque, but hardly convincing," said Emerson. His tone was less vehement, however, and I saw that my arguments had made an impression. He went on, "Are you certain you understood correctly? I cannot believe he would make a damaging admission in your presence."
"He didn't know I was present. Besides—weren't you listening, Emerson?—he was speaking the siim issaagha."
"Very well," Emerson said. "I agree that Abd el Atti may well be involved in something deeper and darker than his usual shady activities. But your notion that he is a member of someimaginary gang is pure surmise. You have an absolutely unique ability to construct a towering structure of theory on one single fact. Foundationless towers totter, my dear Peabody. Control your rampageous imagination and spare your afflicted spouse, I beg."
He was working himself into another fit of temper, so I only said mildly, "But supposing I am right, Emerson? We may have an opportunity to stop this vile traffic in antiquities, which we both abhor. Is not the chance of that, however remote, worth the trifling inconvenience I propose?"
"Humph," said Emerson.
I knew the grunt was as close to a concession as I was likely to get, so I did not pursue the discussion, which would have been ended in any case by the advent of our son, announcing that the Arabic lesson was over. I did not want Ramses to get wind of our plan. He would have insisted on accompanying us, and his father might have been foolish enough to agree.
I was about to put my scrap of papyrus away when Ramses asked if he might look at it. I handed it over, cautioning him to be careful, an admonition to which he replied with a look of mingled scorn and reproach.
"I know you will," I said. "But I don't see what you want with it. Your Uncle Walter has not taught you Coptic along with hieroglyphs, has he?"
"Uncle Walter does not know de Coptic," replied Ramses loftily. "I am only curious to see what I can make of dis from my acquaintance wit' de ancient language; for, as you may be aware, de Coptic language is a development of de Egyptian, t'ough written in Greek script."
I waved him away. Bad enough to be lectured on Egyptology by one's husband; the smug and dogmatic pronouncements of my juvenile son were sometimes extremely trying to my nerves. He settled down at the table with Bastet beside him. Both bent their attention upon the text, the cat appearing to be as interested as the boy.
The door of the adjoining room now responded to a seriesof blows—John's version of a knock. He has extremely large hands and no idea of his own strength. It was a pleasure to hear the sound, however, after the long silence from that direction, and I bade him enter. Emerson took one look at him and burst out laughing.
He wore the uniform of a footman, which he had presumably brought with him from England—knee breeches, brass buttons and all—and I must confess that he looked rather ridiculous in that setting. Emerson's mirth brought a faint blush to his boyish face, though it was apparent he had no idea what his master found so funny. "I am at your service, sir and madam," he announced. "With apologies for failing to carry out me duties in the past days and respectful thanks for the kind attentions received from madam."
"Very well, very well," Emerson said. "Sure you are fit, my boy?"
"Quite fit," I assured him. "Now, John, be sure never to leave off your flannel, and take care what you eat and drink."
I glanced at Ramses as I concluded my advice, remembering the sweetmeat he had consumed—an incident I had not thought worth mentioning to his father. He seemed quite all right. I had been sure he
"I said no such thing! I only suggested—"
"Abd el Atti is a member of the gang. His reference to the Master eating his heart—"
"Picturesque, but hardly convincing," said Emerson. His tone was less vehement, however, and I saw that my arguments had made an impression. He went on, "Are you certain you understood correctly? I cannot believe he would make a damaging admission in your presence."
"He didn't know I was present. Besides—weren't you listening, Emerson?—he was speaking the siim issaagha."
"Very well," Emerson said. "I agree that Abd el Atti may well be involved in something deeper and darker than his usual shady activities. But your notion that he is a member of someimaginary gang is pure surmise. You have an absolutely unique ability to construct a towering structure of theory on one single fact. Foundationless towers totter, my dear Peabody. Control your rampageous imagination and spare your afflicted spouse, I beg."
He was working himself into another fit of temper, so I only said mildly, "But supposing I am right, Emerson? We may have an opportunity to stop this vile traffic in antiquities, which we both abhor. Is not the chance of that, however remote, worth the trifling inconvenience I propose?"
"Humph," said Emerson.
I knew the grunt was as close to a concession as I was likely to get, so I did not pursue the discussion, which would have been ended in any case by the advent of our son, announcing that the Arabic lesson was over. I did not want Ramses to get wind of our plan. He would have insisted on accompanying us, and his father might have been foolish enough to agree.
I was about to put my scrap of papyrus away when Ramses asked if he might look at it. I handed it over, cautioning him to be careful, an admonition to which he replied with a look of mingled scorn and reproach.
"I know you will," I said. "But I don't see what you want with it. Your Uncle Walter has not taught you Coptic along with hieroglyphs, has he?"
"Uncle Walter does not know de Coptic," replied Ramses loftily. "I am only curious to see what I can make of dis from my acquaintance wit' de ancient language; for, as you may be aware, de Coptic language is a development of de Egyptian, t'ough written in Greek script."
I waved him away. Bad enough to be lectured on Egyptology by one's husband; the smug and dogmatic pronouncements of my juvenile son were sometimes extremely trying to my nerves. He settled down at the table with Bastet beside him. Both bent their attention upon the text, the cat appearing to be as interested as the boy.
The door of the adjoining room now responded to a seriesof blows—John's version of a knock. He has extremely large hands and no idea of his own strength. It was a pleasure to hear the sound, however, after the long silence from that direction, and I bade him enter. Emerson took one look at him and burst out laughing.
He wore the uniform of a footman, which he had presumably brought with him from England—knee breeches, brass buttons and all—and I must confess that he looked rather ridiculous in that setting. Emerson's mirth brought a faint blush to his boyish face, though it was apparent he had no idea what his master found so funny. "I am at your service, sir and madam," he announced. "With apologies for failing to carry out me duties in the past days and respectful thanks for the kind attentions received from madam."
"Very well, very well," Emerson said. "Sure you are fit, my boy?"
"Quite fit," I assured him. "Now, John, be sure never to leave off your flannel, and take care what you eat and drink."
I glanced at Ramses as I concluded my advice, remembering the sweetmeat he had consumed—an incident I had not thought worth mentioning to his father. He seemed quite all right. I had been sure he
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