Free Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 by Elizabeth Peters Page B

authorities. I found another of my father’s old acquaintances in the finance ministry; he scolded me for not having called earlier so that he could have the opportunity of entertaining me. He was very kind; so much so, that I began to feel uncomfortable at the way his eyes examined me. Finally he burst out,
    ‘My dear Miss Amelia, you really have changed; are you aware of how much you have changed? The air of Egypt must agree with you; you seem much younger than you did when I last saw you in Sussex.’
    I was wearing a dress Evelyn had selected for me, a mustard-yellow foulard trimmed in green, with draped skirts.
    ‘Fine feathers, my dear sir,’ I said briskly. ‘They are becoming even to elderly hens. Now, I wonder if you could help me – ’
    I had come, of course, to find out about Evelyn’s grandfather. I could see that my friend was surprised at my interest, but he was too much of a gentleman to ask the cause. He informed me that word of the earl’s death had reached him within the past fortnight. He knew no details, only the bare fact; it was not a subject of consuming interest to him. I was inhibited because I could not ask the questions I needed to ask without betraying Evelyn’s secret. I did not want her identity to become known in Egypt, since we proposed to spend the rest of the winter there. So I had to go away with my curiosity partially unsatisfied.
    However, I was able to meet Major – now Sir Evelyn – Baring, the consul general and British agent, who came into the office as I was leaving it. He reminded me of my brothers. Solid British respectability lay upon him like a coating of dust. His neat moustache, his gold-rimmed pincenez, the rounded configuration of his impeccably garbed form, all spoke of his reliability, capability, and dullness. However, he had done an admirable job of trying to restore financial stability to a country heavily in debt, and even when I met him he was known to be the chief power in Egypt. He was faultlessly courteous to me, assuring me of his willingness to be of assistance in any possible way. He had known my father, he said, by reputation. I was beginning to get an image of my dear papa sitting quietly in the centre of a web whose strands extended all over the globe.
    We planned to leave on the Friday. It was on the Thursday evening that our visitor arrived, and conversation with him made clear several points that had hitherto, been cloudy – and raised new problems not so easily solved.
    We were in the lounge; I had insisted we go down. Evelyn had been pensive and sad all day, brooding about her grandfather and, I suspected, about the thought of Walter speeding southward away from her. The Emersons did not hire even a small dahabeeyah; Walter had explained that they rented space on a steamer which carried their supplies, and that they slept on deck with the crew, rolled in their blankets. I thought of my delicate Evelyn living in such conditions and could not wholly regret the loss of Walter.
    We were both tired, having been occupied all day with such last-minute details as always occur when one prepares for a journey; and I believe I was dozing just a little when an exclamation from Evelyn aroused me. For a moment I thought we were about to have a repetition of the evening of Alberto’s appearance. Evelyn had risen to her feet and was staring toward the door. Her expression was not so much one of alarm, however, as of disbelief; and when I turned to see the cause of her amazement, I beheld a young gentleman coming quickly toward us, a broad smile on his face and his hand extended in greeting.
    He seemed for a moment as if he would embrace her. Propriety prevailed; but he took her limp hand in both his big brown ones and wrung it enthusiastically.
    ‘Evelyn! My dear girl! You cannot imagine the relief, the pleasure…. How could you frighten me so?’
    ‘And you cannot imagine my surprise,’ Evelyn exclaimed. ‘What on earth are you doing