The Golden One by Elizabeth Peters Read Free Book Online Page A

round to it.’
    Having settled the matter to his satisfaction, he was free to worry about Nefret. He didn’t criticize Ramses aloud, but he kept looking at his watch and muttering. Fortunately she returned
before Emerson got too worked up.
    ‘I hope I’m not late for tea,’ she said breezily. ‘Have I time to change?’
    ‘You had better,’ Ramses said, inspecting her. Not even Nefret could pass through the streets of el-Wasa without carrying away some of its atmosphere. ‘How did it
go?’
    ‘Just fine. I’ll tell you about it later.’
    She rather monopolized the conversation at tea, which they took on the terrace. Even Sennia found it difficult to get a word in.

    I could tell Ramses was perturbed about something and I suspected it had to do with the hospital; yet nothing Nefret said indicated that she was unhappy about the arrangements.
Unlike my son, Nefret does not conceal her feelings. Her eyes shone and her cheeks were prettily flushed as she talked, and when Sennia said pensively, ‘I would like to come and help you take
care of the sick ladies, Aunt Nefret,’ she laughed and patted the child’s cheek.
    ‘Someday Little Bird. When you are older.’
    ‘Tomorrow I will be older,’ Sennia pointed out.
    ‘Not old enough,’ Emerson said, trying to conceal his consternation. ‘Anyhow, we must be on our way to Luxor shortly. Nefret, when can you be ready?’
    ‘Not tomorrow, Father. Perhaps the following day.’
    She went on to explain that she had arranged to dine with Dr Sophia and the new surgeon, Miss Ferguson. A flicker of emotion crossed my son’s enigmatic countenance when she indicated she
would like him to be present. He nodded in mute acquiescence, but Emerson firmly declined the invitation. The idea of spending the evening with three such determined ladies, discussing loathsome
diseases and gruesome injuries, did not greatly appeal to him.
    So we had an early dinner with Sennia, which pleased her a great deal. It did not please Horus, who had to be shut in Sennia’s room, where (as I was later informed by the sufragi) he
howled like a jackal the entire time. As we left the dining salon, we were hailed by an individual I recognized as the apple-cheeked gentleman who had been one of our fellow passengers. His wife
was even more resplendent in jewels and satin. Sennia would have stopped, but Emerson hustled her on past, and the gentleman, encumbered by the large menu and even larger napkin, was not quick
enough to intercept us.
    ‘Curse it,’ said my spouse, ‘who are those people? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.’
    After returning Sennia to Basima, who had taken refuge from Horus in the servants’ dining hall, I settled down with a nice book – but I kept an eye on Emerson. I can always tell when
he is up to something. Sure enough, after pretending to read for fifteen minutes, he got up and declared his intention of taking a little stroll.
    ‘Don’t disturb yourself, my dear,’ he said. ‘You look very comfortable.’
    And out he went, without giving me time to reply.
    I waited a quarter of an hour before closing my book. A further delay ensued when I attempted to get out of my evening frock, which buttoned down the back; however, I was not in a hurry. I knew
where Emerson was going, and I fancied it would take him a while to get there. After squirming out of the garment I assumed my working costume of trousers, boots, and amply pocketed coat, took up
my parasol, left the hotel, and hailed a cab.
    I assumed Emerson would have gone on foot and kept a sharp eye out for that unmistakable form, but there was no sign of him. When we reached the Khan el Khalili I told the driver to wait and
plunged into the narrow lanes of the suk.
    Aslimi was not happy to see me. He informed me that he was about to close. I informed him that I had no objection, entered the shop, and took a chair.
    Aslimi waddled about, closing and locking the shutters, before he seated himself in