Tomb of the Golden Bird Read Online Free PDF Page A

Dear me, how odd. Could it have been Sir Malcolm?" Ramses slipped back into his shirt. His mother clearly had no intention of leaving immediately; her eyes were bright and her brow furrowed with thought. "There's no reason to assume that," Ramses said. "You only want to catch him doing something illegal." "Yes, certainly. I know he was responsible for several dirty tricks last year, though I wasn't able to pin anything on him." She looked immensely pleased with herself for working in these bits of modern slang. Ramses sympathized with her feelings—he didn't trust Sir Malcolm either—but he felt obliged to protest. "What could he hope to find? Father hasn't any secret information about..."A horrible thought struck him. "Has he?" "If so, he has concealed it well." His mother didn't even look abashed at this implicit confession. In her opinion Emerson had no business concealing anything from her, so she was entitled to use any means possible to discover what he was hiding. "Let us see what information Ali can contribute." The suffragi was unable to contribute anything. He had not seen anyone enter or leave their rooms. This proved only that the hypothetical intruder had been cautious enough to avoid him. Ali had a number of guests in his charge and was frequently absent from his post attending to their requests. His "missing" papers having been located by his exasperated wife, Emerson was not inclined to take the matter seriously. It was the second incident that convinced him. At Nefret's strongly worded request, the party left for Luxor a few days later. The request followed Charla's escape from the hotel in the company of Ali the suffragi. They had been seen leaving the hotel but no one knew where they had gone afterward. It was late afternoon before the guilty pair returned. Charla was indescribably dirty, smeared with sugary substances, and completely unrepentant. Ali, who had obviously begun to have second thoughts about his seduction, went into hiding in a broom closet, from which Ramses dragged him by the collar. "She is not injured," said Charla's grandmother, holding her off at arm's length. "Ali wouldn't let anyone hurt me," Charla shouted. "He only did what I told him. We went to the suk and a nice man gave me money and we bought whatever I wanted!" "Nice man," Ramses repeated. "What was his name?" "He said he was a friend of Grandpapa's." She couldn't remember his name or what he looked like. Under questioning Ali could only say that he was dressed like a howadji, and that he had graying hair. "The Father of Curses has many friends," he insisted. "He knew you, he asked about all the family." The repentant Ali was let off with a stern warning, since, as Nefret pointed out, it was primarily Charla's fault. "She took ruthless advantage of his fondness for children and his awe of a member of the Father of Curses's family. Let's go on to Luxor as soon as possible. It's easier to keep track of the twins when they're in their own home." "Where the windows are barred and the entire household knows their little tricks," Ramses agreed. Fatima, who hadn't let go of David John since his sister turned up missing, let out a heartfelt groan of agreement. Officially she was housekeeper, not nurserymaid, and although Ramses didn't know her precise age, she was no longer a young woman. It took several people in the prime of life to keep up with the twins. Their house in Kent had been their English base for many years, its rose gardens lovingly tended by his mother, its grounds haunted by the descendants of the cats they had brought back from Egypt. Yet in a sense, returning to Luxor was coming home. It certainly was for his mother. If home is where the heart is, as she kept remarking, hers was in the ruins of the imperial city of ancient Egypt. Except for brief interludes at other sites, this was ...he tried to remember . . . their twenty-third season at Thebes. Or was it longer? She had, he thought sentimentally, grown old