Tomb of the Golden Bird by Elizabeth Peters

wife. "Oh, not at all," she replied, and slipped away from him in order to help Fatima light the lamps. Ramses looked at her uncertainly, and then went into the house, returning with the drinks tray. "Everything all right here?" Emerson asked, settling himself in a comfortable chair and stretching his legs. "There is not a stranger within half a mile," Selim replied, stroking his beard. "We made certain of that. You had no trouble?" "Oh, not at all," I said, echoing Nefret. "Emerson, what have you done to your new boots? And the bottoms of your trousers are scorched. And—" "I'll tell you all about it if you will stop fussing, Peabody." He took the glass Ramses handed him, nodded his thanks, and launched into his tale. "No one was hurt," he finished. "And the damage was minimal. Not a bad night's work, take it all in all." "You let them get away," I said. Emerson gave me a reproachful look. "Now, Peabody, don't be critical. We couldn't go after the bastards until we were certain there was no danger to the place or its occupants." "I beg your pardon, Emerson," I said. "You are quite right. It's a pity you didn't recognize any of them. I wouldn't say it was a good night's work." "If you will forgive me," said my husband, with excessive politeness, "you are missing the point, Peabody. We learned something very important tonight. We now know what these fellows are after. Or should I say 'who'?" "You should say 'whom,' Emerson." No one spoke the name aloud, but we all knew whom he meant. Of all our acquaintances the one most likely to attract the attentions of unprincipled persons was Emerson's half brother Seth, better known by his nom de crime of Sethos. He had, before I reformed him, been in charge of a criminal network of antiquities thieves. He had assured me he had long since abandoned that profession, but he might not have been able to resist temptation if a prize fell in his way. Were the prize great enough, a rival might be after him. His current role as an agent of British intelligence might also have led him into danger. The secret service is part of a dark and murky underworld, whose occupants are not bound by the ordinary rules of society. Selim was one of the few who knew Sethos's identity and occupation. He had encountered Emerson's renegade brother under circumstances that made it impossible to conceal the truth from him, even if we had not had complete confidence in his discretion. His handsome features set in a thoughtful frown, he said, "So. What has he done to anger these people, and who are they?" "That is the matter in a nutshell, Selim," I agreed. "Unfortunately we don't know the answer to either question." "There is another question," said Selim, pleased at my compliment. "Why would they think he had come here?" "Now that is a point I had not considered," I admitted. "He has friends and bolt-holes all over the Middle East." "He wouldn't lead enemies to us," Nefret said. "Not unless he was desperate," Ramses muttered. Nefret gave him a quick look. "It seems to me," she snapped, "that this discussion is getting out of hand. It's all conjecture, including the assumption that he is the man these people are after." "It is the most reasonable assumption," Ramses said. He and his uncle had never got on. "Father is right, Nefret. Our encounter tonight made it clear these people are looking, not for an object, but for a man. Not one of us, nor one of our friends; their whereabouts are known. Who else could it be?" Nefret bowed her head. She would have defended Sethos, for whom she had a certain weakness, but the reasoning was compelling. "I was under the impression that you and he kept in touch, Emerson," I said. "Don't you know where he is?" "I haven't heard from or about him for months," Emerson said. "Then I suggest you endeavor to find what has become of him. A wire to his superior, that Mr. Smith—" "Bracegirdle-Boisdragon," Ramses corrected. "I can't be bothered to remember that absurd name," I said. "His