Free Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense by Elizabeth Peters

in town, and hoped I might run into you here, since I knew Shepheard's is one of your favorite spots." He accepted my invitation to join us, but he kept glancing over his shoulder. "Are you in trouble with the law?" I inquired jestingly. "I have just had a most unnerving experience, ma'am. Thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. You don't happen to have a double, do you?" I requested elucidation of this extraordinary question, and Howard indicated a table near the door. "The lady dining with those two staff officers, the one wearing a green dress. She's the spit and image of you, Mrs. Emerson. I was about to speak to her when I saw you and the Professor and realized I was mistaken." Curiosity overcame propriety. I stared shamelessly at the lady. Owing to our relative positions, I could see only the back of her head and her shoulders. The latter were covered by a wide lace bertha, and the head by black hair piled high and held by jeweled combs. There was something very familiar about that dark hair. I said, "Confound it," and Emerson chuckled. "Well, well," he said. "I believe I can hazard a guess. Miss Minton has turned up again." Anticipating Howard's question, he explained. "We encountered the young lady some years ago when she was writing newspaper stories-it was that nonsensical business about the British Museum mummy. I was struck at the time by the resemblance between her and Mrs. Emerson, but it is pure coincidence; Miss Minton is the granddaughter of the late Duke of Devonshire, and no relation to my wife. She has made something of a name for herself since as a journalist specializing in Middle Eastern affairs." "Yes, of course," Howard exclaimed. "I remember now. Isn't she the one who was captured by one of those Arab emirs a few years ago? Wrote a book about it. Can't say I've read it." "You were among the few who did not," I said with a sniff. "It was immensely successful, which is not surprising since it was a perfect example of yellow journalism-sensational and exaggerated." "Come now, Peabody, that isn't fair," Emerson expostulated. "The reviewers hailed it as a shrewd analysis of relations between the warring desert chieftains." "That isn't what sold the book. It was her lurid descriptions of the Emir's harem and his women, and his-er-his advances to her." "Really? Did he-uh-" "According to Miss Minton," I said, "he was about to overcome his scruples, such as they were, when she was rescued by a handsome, dashing, mysterious hero." Emerson choked on his wine. After recovering himself, he exclaimed, "Peabody! It wasn't-it couldn't have been-" "No, Emerson, it couldn't have been," I said. "I don't believe in her mystery man or in her highly colored version of her relations with the Emir. She wasn't captured; she walked into Hayil-rode, rather-in search of a story and I expect Ibn-Rashid evicted her when he tired of her interminable questions. Let us turn to more important subjects. Why aren't you in Luxor, Howard?" Howard opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Emerson said, "Yes, why aren't you? I hear that the local thieves are at it harder than ever-digging at Drah Abu'l Naga and even stealing statues from Legrain's magazine at Karnak." "Where did you hear that? Oh-Selim, I suppose. He would know; half the crooks in Gurneh are friends and kin of his. It's not as bad as all that, Professor. Your tomb hasn't been touched, if that is what's worrying you." More precisely, the tomb was that of Queen Tetisheri, which we had discovered and cleared several years earlier. We had removed the funerary equipment-and a deuced difficult job it had been-but there were painted reliefs of superb quality in one chamber, and thieves had been known to cut out fragments of such reliefs for sale on the illegal antiquities market. They were popular with collectors. "Have you been in it?" Emerson demanded. "No one's been in it, sir, since you locked the gates and refused to give up the keys to the Service des Antiquites."