The Hippopotamus Pool by Elizabeth Peters Read Free Book Online Page B

demons or by an imaginary enemy. That is the way these people think."
    "Why, Emerson," I exclaimed. "You have been reading up on psychology."
    "Bah," said Emerson. "I have not the time to waste on such nonsense. Unfortunately, I have been acquainted with enough lunatics to understand how their minds work. Now, see here, all of you. The fellow's story was pure fabrication, but if he believes it he may approach us again, and he may be dangerous. Keep on the alert, at least until we have left Cairo."
    "And when will that be?" I inquired.
    "Soon." Emerson smiled at me. "I have a little surprise for you, Peabody, one I am sure you will like."
    "When?" I strove to speak firmly, for his behavior really was maddening; but it is difficult for me to be firm with Emerson when his keen blue eyes soften and his well-cut lips part in a smile.
    "Tomorrow. I want to get an early start, so we had better go to bed. It has been a tiring day."
    "Especially for you, my dear Emerson," I said, directing a hard stare at Ramses.
    "Father certainly should rest," said that young hypocrite, who obviously had no intention of allowing his father to do so. "One question, if I may. The ring you mentioned—"
    "Is missing," I said. "Ramses—"
    "You neglected to put it in a safe place?"
    "I dropped it onto the table when Mr. Saleh collapsed, being more concerned with his condition than with a bit of lifeless metal," I said, with heavy sarcasm. "It was not there when I returned. I trust, Ramses, that your question was not meant to imply criticism of my behavior?"
    "Certainly not, Mother. I know you bitterly regret your failure to retain that interesting bit of evidence, and I would not for all the world add to—"
    "Go to bed, Ramses."
    Nefret had risen obediently. Eyes lowered, hands clasped, she went to Emerson. "Good night, sir."
    He took her golden head in his hands and kissed her on the brow. "Good night, my dear. Sleep well."
    "Good night, Aunt Amelia." She came to me and I kissed her as Emerson had done.
    Ramses had recently decided that he was now too old for kissing—of his parents, at any rate. Further than that I was not in a position to say. Gravely he shook hands with his father—a process that amused Emerson very much. "Good night, Father. Good night, Mother."
    "Good night, Ramses. Don't leave your coat on the chair; take it with you and be sure to hang it up."
    Nefret had already slipped away, carrying Bastet with her. Her room opened off the sitting room, as did ours. Ramses occupied a chamber next to ours but not connected with it.
    "How fortunate we are to have such intelligent, obedient children," Emerson said fatuously. "I told you, Peabody, that Nefret would be no trouble."
    "Your naivete constantly astonishes me, Emerson. I don't know what prompted Ramses to obey an order without arguing, for once in his life, but Nefret was trying to escape a lecture. I must have a word with that young woman. She behaved very improperly this evening. I caught her coming out of the Moorish Hall—you know what that place is like, Emerson!—and I strongly suspect that she was there alone with a man!"
    "You contradict yourself, Peabody. If she was with a man, she was not alone."
    "You are not taking this seriously, Emerson."
    "And you are taking it too seriously, Peabody. You have no proof that anything untoward occurred. Admonish the child if you must, but can't it wait until morning?" Emerson yawned and stretched.
    I now make certain that the buttons on Emerson's shirts are sewn with double thicknesses of thread, since they were always popping off when he disrobed in haste or when he expanded the impressive breadth of his chest. This was an old shirt; the buttons slipped handily out of the holes, and as he extended his arms to their full length, quite a large expanse of his person, smoothly tanned and artistically modeled, became visible.
    "Really, Emerson, you ought to be ashamed of yourself," I said. "If you think you can distract me from my maternal