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

in Egypt who has been spared his criticism.’
    ‘I don’t care to speak of him,’ I said, with a sniff.
    ‘We think your museum is fascinating, M. Maspero,’ Evelyn added tactfully. ‘I could spend days here.’
    We spent several hours more inspecting the exhibits. I would not have said so for the world, but I felt a certain sympathy for the odious Emerson’s criticisms. The exhibits were not arranged as methodically as they might have been, and there was dust everywhere.
    Evelyn said she was too tired to go down to the boat that day, so we took a carriage back to the hotel. She was pensive and silent during the drive; as we neared Cairo, I said slyly,
    ‘Mr Emerson’s young brother does not have the family temper, I believe. Did you happen to hear his name?’
    ‘Walter,’ said Evelyn, and blushed betrayingly.
    ‘Ah.’ I pretended not to notice the blush. ‘I found him very pleasant. Perhaps we will meet them again at the hotel.’
    ‘Oh, no, they do not stay at Shepheard’s. Walt – Mr Emerson explained to me that their money all goes for excavation. His brother is not supported by any institution or museum; he has only a small yearly income and, as Walter says, if he had the wealth of the Indies he would consider it insufficient for his purposes.’
    ‘You seem to have covered quite a lot of ground in a very short time,’ I said, watching Evelyn out of the corner of my eye. ‘It is a pity we can’t continue the acquaintance with the younger Mr Emerson, and avoid his insane brother.’
    ‘I daresay we shall not meet again,’ Evelyn said softly.
    I had my own opinion on that score.
    In the afternoon, after a rest, we went to shop for medical supplies. The guidebooks advise travellers to carry a considerable quantity of medicines and drugs, since there are no doctors south of Cairo. I had copied the list of suggested remedies from my guide, and was determined to do the thing properly. If I had not been a woman, I might have studied medicine; I have a natural aptitude for the subject, possessing steady hands and far less squeamishness about blood and wounds than many males of my acquaintance. I planned to buy a few small surgical knives also; I fancied I could amputate a limb – or at least a toe or finger – rather neatly if called upon to do so.
    Our dragoman, Michael, accompanied us. I thought he seemed quieter than usual, but I was occupied with my list: blue pills, calomel, rhubarb, Dover’s powder, James’s powder, carbolic acid, laudanum, quinine, sulphuric acid, ipecacuanha…. It was Evelyn who asked Michael what the trouble was. He hesitated, looking at us in turn.
    ‘It is my child, who is ill,’ he said finally. ‘She is only a girl-child, of course.’
    The faltering of his voice and his troubled countenance betrayed a paternal emotion that contradicted the words, so I modified what had begun as an indignant comment into an offer of assistance. Michael protested, but it was clear that he would welcome our help. He led us to his home.
    It was a narrow old house with the intricately carved wooden balconies that are typical of Old Cairo. It seemed to me appallingly dirty, but compared with the squalor and filth we had seen elsewhere, it could have been worse. The sickroom where the child lay was dreadful. The wooden shutters were closely barred, lest evil spirits enter to harm the child further, and the stench was frightful. I could scarcely see the small sufferer, for the only illumination came from a clay lamp filled with smoking fat, with a wick of twisted cloth. My first move, therefore, was to go to the windows and throw them open.
    A wavering shriek of protest arose from the women huddled on the floor. There were six of them, clad in dusty black and doing nothing that I could see except add to the contamination of the air and keep the child awake by their endless wailing. I evicted them. The child’s mother I allowed to remain. She was a rather pretty little thing, with great