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

passed the dock on our way home we saw there were lights in the saloon of the Amelia. Emerson brought the motorcar to a jolting stop. "They are still awake. What do you say we drop in and-" "No, my dear." "Ramses will want to know what Carter said about-" "Emerson, this is their first evening alone. I expect Ramses will have other things on his mind." However, when we got to the house we found them waiting for us in the drawing room. "Ah," said Emerson, shooting me a triumphant look. "I felt certain you would want to hear the news. What about a final whiskey and soda, eh? We ran into Carter-" "Do be quiet, Emerson," I exclaimed. My intuition is seldom at fault, and I had known at once that they had news of graver import than ours. "Something has happened. What?" "Nothing to worry about," Ramses said. "I tried to persuade Nefret it could wait until morning, but she insisted we come." "A spot of whiskey is definitely in order," Nefret said grimly. "That bad, is it?" I inquired, taking the glass Emerson handed me-for he had proceeded to act on his own suggestion. Ramses reached for his, and I remarked, "You are favoring your right arm. Another shirt ruined?" Ramses let out a sputter of laughter, and Nefret's tight lips relaxed. "Trust you, Mother, to put the matter in proportion," she said. "Not only a shirt, but his best linen coat. No, Ramses, you are not allowed to speak; you'll try to make light of it, and I won't have that. I will tell them." Ramses listened in silence, his eyes moving from her expressive face to the equally expressive movements of her slim hands. He did not interrupt; it was Emerson who exclaimed, "Hell and damnation, Ramses! Why didn't you defend yourself? You deliberately let him-" Ramses shrugged. "It was only poor Asad trying to be heroic. He scuttled off as soon as he'd made his point." "Was that a pun?" I inquired. "Inadvertent," said Ramses. "Stop that," Emerson bellowed. "Both of you. All right, Nefret, go on. The assassin burst into tears, and Ramses consoled him? I suppose you then took him somewhere for coffee and a chat? Good Gad!" "Not exactly," Nefret said. "The fellow broke down completely. He was weeping into his hands, and Ramses was patting him on the shoulder-leaving bloody prints all over his robe, I should add. He'll probably keep it as a sacred relic." "Wait just a minute," Emerson said, rubbing his chin. "I confess I am having some difficulty taking all this in. Asad. Wardani's lieutenant? You had a sneaking sympathy for the fellow, I believe?" "Yes." Ramses leaned forward, cradling his glass in his hands. "He was the best of Wardani's lot-a scholar, not a man of action, and the bravest of them all because he went on with the job despite his fear. He'd developed a certain . . . attachment to me. Only, of course, he didn't know it was me. Can you imagine what a shock it must have been for him to learn he had been deceived by an impostor, that all his devotion and loyalty and-and admiration had been lavished on a man who had deceived him and betrayed the cause in which he believed? He had to do something to prove his manhood. Now he's done it, and that will be the end of it. He's quite a gentle soul, really." I said, "How did he find out it was you?" "Ha!" Emerson cried. "Just what I was about to ask. The official story was that Wardani was arrested at the same time as his lieutenants and exiled to India-where, in fact, he had been all along. The others were sent to prison or to one of the oases, so that there would be no chance of their communicating with Wardani. That's another thing. This fellow Asad was supposed to be locked up. How did he escape?" There are five major oases in the Western Desert: Siwa, the northernmost; Bahriya, Farafra, Kharga, and Dakhla. Except for Farafra, they are each large enough and fertile enough to support a population of several thousand, but I would not have cared to endure a long exile in any of them. Sanitation was virtually nonexistent and diseases