Lion in the Valley by Elizabeth Peters Page B

one most immediately concerned. Aside from the
fact that I do not feel myself in need of a nursemaid of either sex—"
    "You
were certainly in need of someone or something tonight," I said
critically. "How could you be so careless as to allow yourself to be
abducted practically under our noses?"
    Ramses
opened his mouth to reply; Emerson, who knew his son's tendency toward unnecessary
loquacity as well as I did, replied for him. "From what I have been able
to ascertain, from Ramses himself and from Abu, the thing was rather neatly
done. It was not the guides originally assigned to Ramses who carried him off.
Abu questioned these fellows after I reported that Ramses was missing, and they
told him they had been dismissed by an American gentleman who said he was a
member of our party. An extravagant amount of baksheesh removed any doubts they
may have had, nor would they be inclined to question the command of an
effendi."
    "But
that is an astonishing development, Emerson," I exclaimed. "I had
assumed this was a simple, vulgar attempt at extracting money, or possibly a
trick of Kalenischeff's, to render us impotent while he carries out the
nefarious scheme in which he is presently engaged— whatever that may be."
    "Neither
is likely, Peabody. Kalenischeff knows better than to interfere with me."
    His
white teeth closed on the last word as if he were biting into Kalenischeff's
jugular, and I was forced to admit that his reasoning was convincing.
    "Then
who could it have been? Who would have designs on Ramses, or on ... Good Gad,
Emerson!"
    Emerson
raised his hand. "Please, Peabody. Don't say it."
    "Who
else could it have been?" I cried. "Who else but that genius of
crime, the Master Criminal?''
    I
see no sense in repeating the conversation that ensued. Emerson's remarks were
incoherent in the extreme, and he never allowed me to complete a sentence. I
presume
    Ramses
attempted to interject his opinions, since he usually did, but he made no
headway. Emerson was still fuming when the carriage drew up before the hotel,
and I abandoned the discussion, since it would have been vulgar to go on
shouting at one another as we passed through the lobby.
    The
safragi on duty in the corridor outside our rooms informed us that a number of
parcels had been delivered during our absence. Emerson nodded and flipped the
fellow a coin. "It will be the merchandise I ordered this afternoon,"
he said. "At least one thing has gone right today."
    The
parcels were stacked in a corner. Atop the pile sat the cat Bastet, straight
and alert, as if on guard. In fact, she was useful to us in that capacity,
since the hotel servants were decidedly in awe of her. Her resemblance to the
hunting cats depicted in ancient tomb paintings and her doglike devotion to her
young master had convinced the superstitious fellows that she was not an
ordinary feline.
    She
and Ramses greeted one another affectionately, but when he offered her the
scraps of chicken he had brought, she refused the treat, politely but
decidedly.
    "Curious,"
said Ramses. "Very curious."
    I
was forced to agree. Ordinarily the cat Bastet was passionately fond of
chicken. "Could there be something wrong with the food?" I asked uneasily.
"Poisoned, or drugged?"
    "If
there had been anything wrong with it, we would all be writhing in agony or
comatose by now," snarled Emerson. "I have had enough melodrama
tonight; I can endure no more. Ramses, go to bed. Amelia—"
    "Yes,
Ramses should retire at once, since we must make an early departure. In view of
what happened this evening, Ramses, you had better leave your door open."
    Emerson
turned a reproachful look on me. "My dear Peabody," he began.
    "I
see no help for it, Emerson."
    "Bah,"
said Emerson. "Yes, very well. You should sleep soundly tonight, Ramses,
after your adventures. Very soundly. If you should waken and hear—er—hear
anything at all, pay no attention."
    "Anything,
Papa?"
    "Anything,