Free Seeing a Large Cat by Elizabeth Peters Page A

have made some women run whimpering from the room, "is Mrs. Fraser our responsibility. Our responsibility, Peabody, is to our children-I include David, of course-and to one another, and to our work! So firmly convinced of this truth am I that I have determined to leave Cairo at once. We will sail tomorrow."
    I was not at all put out, since I had expected something of the sort from Emerson. He is always complaining about interruptions to our work, and interfering in other people's affairs, and so on. I knew perfectly well that we would end up being involved no matter what he said or did to prevent it, so I said only:
    "We cannot leave so soon, Emerson. The tailor has not finished with Ramses's clothes, and if he goes on as he has begun, he will certainly require a quantity of them. That coat is ruined, and he has had it less than-"
    "Very well, my dear," said Emerson in the same mild voice. "We will go round to the tailor tomorrow morning-you and I together, Peabody, since I don't intend to let you out of my sight until we are under way. We will collect what is finished and have the rest sent on."
    "I think that is a very sensible suggestion," said Nefret. "Our leaving as soon as possible, I mean. It would also be sensible for us to go to bed. Good night."
    She swept out of the room.
    "What is she so angry about?" David asked.
    "Whom is she angry at, would be more accurate." Ramses removed the cat from his lap and deposited it on a chair. "I expect it's me. Good night, Mother. Good night, Father. Are you coming, David?"
    David was, of course. He had said very little-he seldom got the chance to say anything when we were all together-but I knew he was blaming himself for not being at Ramses's side when danger threatened. They were the closest of friends and David took his self-assumed responsibilities far too seriously. No one, as I had good cause to know, could keep Ramses out of trouble for long.
    "Now that is odd," I remarked after they had gone.
    "What?"
    "I would have expected Ramses to stay, speculating and theorizing and talking and arguing. He must be feeling more ill than he admitted. I had better go and-"
    "No, you hadn't." Emerson put his arms around me and held me fast.
    "Now, Emerson, don't do that. At least don't do that here in the saloon where people can-"
    "Elsewhere, then."
    "Gladly, my dear." As we strolled-or to be more accurate, hastened-toward our room, I said, "I am in complete agreement with your decision to leave tomorrow, Emerson. It will be good to be back at work again. You will begin, I assume, with tomb Twenty-A?"
    Emerson drew me into the room, kicked the door shut, and swung round to face me. "Why should you assume anything of the sort?"
    "It seems evident that quite a number of people want you to investigate it."
    "What the devil are you talking about, Peabody?" Emerson demanded. He shook his head. "One would think that after all these years I would have become accustomed to your mental gyrations, but it really is deuced hard to keep up with them. The messages demanded I stay out of the place. And besides-"
    "Emerson, you know perfectly well that the surest way of getting you to do something is to forbid you to do it. Colonel Bellingham's offer this evening was a subtler variation of the same method. He offered you the chance to look for unknown tombs, knowing full well that the suggestion of patronage on his part would make you even more determined to go on with what you had originally planned-that is, investigate the known tombs, including Twenty-A."
    Emerson opened his mouth as if to speak.
    "Furthermore," I went on, "Donald Fraser also endeavored-clumsily, I admit, but he is not a subtle person-to turn your attention away from the lesser-known tombs in the Valley-which includes, I hardly need point out, tomb Twenty-A! Can all these seemingly unrelated incidents be part of a single sinister plan? There can be no doubt of it, Emerson. Someone is trying to get you into that tomb. The only