The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

inhabitants of London being so obliging.
After I had let everyone express his or her opinion, which is the inalienable right of every citizen of a democracy, I informed them of my decision.
    "Nefret must go; Fatima will be more comfortable with another female present. David must go, they are his kin. There won't be room in the automobile for anyone else. Daoud, you know, is a very large person. So, that is settled. You had better get off at once. Telephone if the boat is late in docking, or if you are otherwise delayed. Drive carefully. Wrap up well. Good-bye."
It began to rain late in the afternoon, and the cloudy skies produced an early twilight. Nefret had telephoned shortly after midday to say that the boat was late and would not dock for several hours. All was in readiness; I had ordered cheerful fires to be lit in every room, and welcoming lights shone through the dusk. I was standing at the drawing room window looking out when a voice made me start.
"They won't be here for at least another hour, Mother. You aren't worried, are you? David is an excellent driver."
"He won't be driving, Ramses. Nefret will insist on showing off, and he hasn't the gumption to prevent her." I turned from the window. He was close by me, though I had not heard him approach. I greatly dislike that noiseless cat-footed walk he affects, and when I saw that the shoulders of his coat were dark with moisture and that his hair sparkled with raindrops, irritability prompted me to remark, "You've been out in the wet without a hat again. How many times must I tell you—"
"Your concern is appreciated but needless, Mother. Why don't you sit down by the fire and let me ring for tea? Nefret said not to wait."
I could not deny the sense of this, so I took the chair he held for me. After he had rung the bell he leaned against the mantel. "I want to ask you about this," he began, reaching into his pocket.
I stared in surprise at the object he took out. It lay curled in the palm of his hand, blinking round blue eyes and twitching minuscule whiskers. So complete was its state of relaxation that it would have rolled off onto the floor if Ramses's long fingers had not enclosed its body. He appeared as surprised as I.
"It is a cat, my dear," I said, laughing. "A kitten, rather. So that is where you went, to the stable to inspect Hathor's new litter."
"I forgot it was there," Ramses said self-consciously. ''It crawled in and went to sleep, so I—er—that's not what I wanted to show you, Mother."
The rattle of crockery presaged the arrival of Gargery and one of the maids with the tea trays. Close on their heels came Emerson, shirt wrinkled, hair becomingly disheveled, hands ink-stained, face beaming.
    "Not here yet?" he inquired, inspecting the room as if he thought Fatima might be hiding behind a chair and Daoud concealed by the draperies. "Ramses, why are you standing there holding a cat? Put it down, my boy, and take a chair. Hallo, Pea-body, my dear. Hallo, Gargery. Hallo—er—who's this?"
"Sarah, sir," Gargery replied. "She came to us last week and is now, I believe, able to be trusted in the drawing room."
"Certainly. Hallo, Sarah." He advanced on the poor girl with the obvious intention of shaking hands.
Emerson has absolutely no notion of how to get on with servants. He treats them like social equals, which is extremely trying for them. Those who remain in our service eventually become accustomed to him, but the girl was young and rather pretty, and although Gargery must have warned her about Emerson, she let out a little squeak of alarm as he loomed over her with affable interest warming his handsome face.
Ramses came to the rescue, depositing the kitten onto Emerson's outstretched hand and relieving the housemaid of the heavy tray, which he placed on a nearby table. The girl's eyes followed him with doglike adoration. I let out an inaudible sigh. So it was to be Ramses with this one. All the new female servants fell in love with my husband or my son,