Free The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery by Elizabeth Peters Page A

call on every dealer and private collector in Europe. Emerson and I were still discussing how to go about these when Ramses suddenly disappeared from the house. When questioned, Nefret admitted she knew where he had gone, assured us he was not up to anything illegal or dangerous, and politely refused to answer any further questions.
He reappeared two days later, as suddenly as he had departed, and replied to our agitated queries by handing over a sheaf of telegrams. A glance at one of them explained all. It had been sent to a Mr. Hiram Applegarth at the Savoy, and read, TWO
FINE  HEART SCARABS RECENTLY ACQUIRED FROM UNIMPEACHABLE SOURCE STOP LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR VISIT.
Emerson, thumbing through the messages, let out a string of swear words, ending with an emphatic "Damnation! Did you telegraph every dealer in Europe? This must have cost a fortune. And was it absolutely necessary to put up at the Savoy?"
"It was necessary to establish an impression of wealth," Ramses explained. "I had to give them a return address, and I could hardly use ours."
"Since you did not ask your father or me for money, I presume you used Nefret's," I said.
"It is not mine," Nefret snapped, before Ramses could answer. "It is ours. His, yours, David's, Lia's. We're a family, aren't we? I've told you before—"
"Yes, my dear, you have." I studied my son, who looked back at me with a particularly enigmatic expression. When Nefret said, "What is mine is yours," she really meant it; but for some individuals it is easier to give than to receive, and for Ramses to accept assistance of any kind was truly remarkable. It was not only an acknowledgment of her equality, but a subjugation of that towering pride of his. I gave him an approving smile. "Well, we will say no more about it, since the procedure appears to have been effective."
"It gives us several possible leads, at any rate," said Ramses. "I—Nefret and I—had to act without delay. We are due to leave in a week."
It was true, and we were all anxious to be off. The dreary days of autumn were upon us; only a few yellowed leaves clung to the barren branches, and the last roses had perished in an early frost. The hours of darkness were lengthening, the wind blew chill and wet.
In short, the weather was ideal for criminal endeavors. That night the lodgekeeper and his family were snugly shut up in their house, curtains drawn against the rainy darkness. Our pampered and lazy dogs were not inclined to leave their warm kennel on such a night. We had spent the day sightseeing, and at my suggestion we all retired early.
At least I thought we had all retired early. I should have known Ramses would ignore my motherly advice. I never got round to asking why he was not asleep at that hour in the morning (two A.M., to be precise). His room is over the library, and his window was open (I am a firm believer in the benefits of fresh air), but I doubt anyone else would have heard the sound of breaking glass, muffled as it was by wind and rain. As the Egyptians say, Ramses can hear a whisper across the Nile.
It would not have occurred to Ramses that he might want assistance. He went down alone to investigate.
The sounds that followed his discovery of the burglars would have wakened the dead. Even Emerson, who is a heavy sleeper, and who had good reason to be weary that night, shot out of bed. He immediately fell over a chair, so I got to the door before him, but I heard his breathless curses close behind me as I ran along the hall. There was no time to lose, no time even to assume a dressing gown; the sound that had waked me was the explosion of a firearm.
I might not have known precisely where the action was taking place had I not seen a white form ahead of me. Ghostly and palely glimmering, it fled along the dimly lighted hall until it reached the top of the stairs, and then ... For one extremely disconcerting moment I thought it had taken flight. A solid thump and a loud "Damn!" assured me the form was