Children Of The Storm Part 18

David nodded without speaking, his dark eyes cool. Nefret must have told him the ident.i.ty of the visitor.

"This is my uncle, Mr. Walter Emerson. I would introduce you formally if I knew what name you are currently using," said Ramses.

A fleeting, tight-lipped smile acknowledged the gibe. "Smith will do. Good afternoon, Mr. Emerson."

"And I am Sennia Emerson," said that young person, holding her skirts and curtsying. "You have heard of me, I expect."

"Yes-quite-er-how do you do?"

"Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Sit down, Sennia," Ramses said somewhat sharply. "A gentleman remains standing until all the ladies present have seated themselves."

This was actually directed at Nefret, who stood clutching the twins like Niobe trying to protect her children from the deadly arrows of Apollo and Diana. She flushed and sank onto the settee next to Lia.

"Tea, everyone?" I asked.

Ramses came to take the cups as I filled them. "I presume you have a reason for this?" he inquired sotto voce.

"I always have at least one reason. Now that he has been thrown off-balance by the dear children, I may be able to get a few sensible answers out of him."

Having dispensed the genial beverage and asked Sennia to pa.s.s the biscuits round, I cleared my throat. "Mr. Smith came to bring us news of our kinsman. He has been ill, but is recovering."

"Malaria again?" Nefret asked, professional interest overcoming maternal protectiveness.

"No. He suffered certain injuries. Nothing serious."

Walter had been thinking it over. In describing Sethos's wartime activities to him we had not mentioned Smith, but Walter's a.n.a.lytical mind was quick to make the connection. "What is his name?"

"I beg your pardon?" Smith turned those gimlet eyes on him.

"I gather that he works for you, or with you, or under your direction, in a certain governmental agency," said Walter, unintimidated by the stare. "I cannot believe the British bureaucracy would employ a man without investigating every detail of his past life-including his name."

The question seemed to arouse Smith's usually dormant sense of humor. His eyes narrowed, wrinkles fanning out at the corners. "None of you know? Well, well. If he has not seen fit to tell you, it would not be right for me to betray his confidence."

"Where is he?" Ramses asked.

"Just a moment, please," I said, with a warning frown at my son. "Sennia, dear, would you take the children to their little corner and give them their paper and crayons? Thank you. Very well, Mr. Smith, you may answer Ramses's question."

"I fear I am unable to do so."

"Because you cannot or because you will not?" Nefret leaned forward, hands tightly clasped. "Frankly, I don't care what he has done. The war is over and if Sethos is back into the antiquities business, he's on his own. You can't expect Ramses-"

"I beg your pardon for interrupting, Nefret," Ramses said.

"I beg your pardon." She sat back, clasping her hands.

The exchange had amused Smith. He would find differences of opinion amusing-and potentially useful. "I don't expect your husband to do anything," he said smoothly. "There's no denying that his talents could be useful; intelligence gathering does not end with an armistice, and the Middle East and Egypt are potential powder kegs."

"Thanks to our incoherent and devious policies," said Emerson. "There is a flagrant contradiction between the principle of self-determination, which we support in theory, and the politics we practice. France won't give up Syria, and we won't give up Egypt, and we've promised Palestine to both the Zionists and the Arabs."

"Some would claim that the natives of those areas are not capable of self-government," Smith said.

He was trying to egg Emerson on. It is not difficult. "Ha," exclaimed my spouse. "Oh, I admit we've done better by Egypt than some occupying powers might have done, but it's time we got the h.e.l.l out and let the Egyptians work out their own destiny. Who are we to look down on them? Our great Western, Christian civilization has burned people alive, forced them into ghettos, seized their territory by guile or by force-and we've just fought the bloodiest war in history."

"Our guest is not interested in your views, Emerson," I said, watching Smith.

"Oh, I am, Mrs. Emerson. Very much interested. I trust that the Professor's sympathy with various Nationalist aspirations would not prevent him from notifying Cairo should he learn of plans for rioting in Upper Egypt."

"None of us believe in violence," said Ramses, whose eyes, like mine, were fixed on the bland countenance of Mr. Smith. "As you ought to be well aware. What are you driving at, Smith?"

"Charla is eating her crayon," said Evvie.

The evidence certainly seemed to point that way. Charla's crayon was now a stump and her pursed mouth strongly suggested that the pretty red object hadn't tasted as good as she had expected. Ramses rushed over and s.n.a.t.c.hed his daughter up. "Spit it out," he ordered. "This minute!"

"I told her not to do it," said Evvie self-righteously.

Ramses inserted a finger into Charla's mouth. "What's in the d.a.m.ned things? Are they poisonous? Ouch! Mother, can you make her-"

"That is not the way to go about it," I said. "Give her to me."

I turned Charla over my arm and smacked her hard between the shoulderblades. A shower of repellent fragments flew out. Most of them landed on Mr. Smith's neatly pressed flannels. Inspecting the pieces, I remarked, "I don't believe she swallowed any of it. We'll just make sure, shall we, Nefret?"

"I can manage," Nefret said, s.n.a.t.c.hing the squirming child from me. "Ramses, will you give me a hand?"

"What are you going to do?" Emerson demanded in alarm.

"Believe me, my dear, you don't want to know," I a.s.sured him.

They went off with Charla, who was protesting volubly if unintelligibly.

"Good Gad!" Emerson exclaimed. "You don't mean . . . Poor little creature!"

"It isn't the first time," I said. "She is one of those children-endlessly inquisitive and too young to understand the consequences-who employs all her senses to investigate the world. One day she may be a distinguished scientist, if we can prevent her from poisoning herself before she reaches the age of reason. Mr. Smith, I am so sorry about your nice trousers. I suggest you allow the bits to dry before you brush them off."

He had already tried. The result was very nasty and the stains, I felt sure, were indelible.

"A small price to pay for this delightful glimpse into family life," said Smith, with a conspicuous absence of sincerity. "However, I must go. I am taking the night train to Cairo. Good-bye to you all, and thank you for your-er-charming hospitality."

"Emerson and I will escort you to your carriage," I said.

Smith watched me undo the bolts and hooks. "I trust," he said in a low voice, "that these precautions have not been taken in expectation of danger? You know you have only to ask us for a.s.sistance."

"The bars and bolts are not to keep enemies out, but to keep the children in." I captured Davy, who tried to look as if getting out the door had been the last thing on his mind. The wide blue eyes and golden curls and angelic smile would have deceived anyone but an experienced grandmother. I handed him over to Evelyn.

"I heard about the motorcar in Luxor," said Smith, stopping to inspect it. "It is the talk of the town. As is your little accident last night. It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"Stop fis.h.i.+ng, Mr. Smith," I said, with perfect good humor. "I suggest you send Sethos to us as soon as he can travel. He will recuperate more quickly in our care than in any hospital. You did forward our original message, I presume."

"Yes, certainly. Who is the missing person?"

"If he has not chosen to confide in you, it would not be proper for me to do so."

"d.a.m.n right," said Emerson. "One more thing, Smith, and then you can go to Luxor or to the devil. What were you driving at with those hints about rioting in this area? Have you received intelligence pointing to such a possibility?"

"Lord Milner's Commission is due to arrive in a few weeks," Smith said. "It will not offer the terms Egypt wants. There will be trouble."

"There certainly will be if Britain refused to abandon the protectorate," Emerson muttered, rubbing his chin. "You didn't answer my question, Smith."

The driver stood by the door of the carriage, waiting for Smith to get in. "He isn't going to answer it, Emerson," I said. "Good-bye, Mr. Smith."

He paused with his foot on the step and looked ruefully at his ruined trousers. "Did you enjoy that, Mrs. Emerson?"

"You are, I believe, a bachelor, Mr. Smith?"

He ducked his head and climbed nimbly into the vehicle. I heard a stifled sound that might have been a laugh.

"SO THAT IS THE MYSTERIOUS Mr. Smith," said Walter. "It was good of him to come all this way in order to rea.s.sure us."

"His real name is Bracegirdle-Boisdragon," said Emerson. "And his real reason for coming had nothing to do with goodness."

"What did he want, then?" Ramses asked. "You and Mother spoke with him for several minutes; you must have been able to get something out of him."

"He spent most of the time trying to get something out of us," I replied. "He did not succeed, but he gave away nothing of interest-except that they antic.i.p.ate disaffection when Lord Milner's Commission arrives, which anyone might have deduced."

"Was that what he meant by his hints about riots here in Luxor?" Walter asked. "If there is a chance of violence, the women and children must be sent to safety."

"Nonsense," Evelyn said calmly.

"Utter nonsense," Emerson agreed. "Selim would know of such rumors well in advance, and none of the men of Luxor would bother us. We had not the slightest trouble last spring."

"What about you, David?" Walter demanded. "The fellow kept looking at you. You promised me that you had severed your connections with the Nationalists. Your responsibilities to your wife and children-"

"I am well aware of them, sir," David said. He had always treated his father-in-law deferentially; the interruption and the tightening of his jaw were the only signs of controlled anger. "I gave you my word, and I have never broken it."

"Then why did that-that Smith person introduce the subject?" Walter demanded. "It sounded like an accusation."

"Or a warning," I murmured. Several of us spoke at once, Lia indignantly defending her husband, Evelyn trying to soothe her husband, and Emerson drowning out the softer voices with a bull-like bellow. "You are the one who is making unfounded accusations, Walter. Do not allow that bas-um-that rascal Smith to sow dissension among us."

"What about a nice whiskey and soda?" I suggested. Muttering irritably, Emerson went to the table, and I turned with a smile to the little boy who had shyly approached me. "Have you a new picture to show me, Dolly? Well! That is very good, very good indeed. Show it to Grandfather Walter."

"He has quite a talent," said Evelyn proudly.

"It is a donkey," Dolly explained. "I am riding it."

"Yes, I see." Walter's dour face softened. "And a very good donkey, too. Er-why does it have six legs?"

"Because it is running." Dolly took the paper from him and examined it critically. "I think I will give it more legs. It is running very fast."

The dear child's innocent intervention had reduced the tension. I wondered if he had been aware of the discord between his father and grandfather; he was a very sensitive little chap. Walter looked self-consciously at David. "I apologize. It is only that I-"

"You worry about your hostages to fortune." David was not the man to bear a grudge. His brown eyes were warm with affection and understanding. "So do I, sir."

"What are those papers you have, Walter?" I asked, accepting a gla.s.s of whiskey from Emerson.

"What papers?" Walter asked blankly.

Evelyn picked them up from the floor and handed them to him. "He has been working on a very important ma.n.u.script," she explained. "I expect you wanted to read us your translation, Walter?"

"Oh, yes, to be sure." Walter smoothed the papers out. Someone had drawn an object that may have been meant to be a pyramid on the back of one.

"He isn't supposed to bring his work to a social occasion," Emerson grunted. "Ramses, have a look at these."

He extracted a roll of paper from a portfolio beside his chair and handed it over. "David's work?" Ramses inquired, examining the meticulously tinted sketch of a section of coffin lid.

"Evelyn's," Emerson corrected. "This is David's. He's finished drawing the decoration on the robe."

"They're both marvelous," Ramses said in sincere admiration.

"Put them away before someone spills tea on them," I said. "You ought not have brought them to a social occasion, Emerson."

Emerson ignored this dig with the skill of long experience. "How much longer are you going to work on Vandergelt's collection? How many more objects to copy?"

"We could spend years at the job," David answered, taking a cup of tea from me. "Obviously that's not practical. We'll have to settle for the most important and fragile objects. That decision is up to you and Cyrus."

Emerson opened his mouth but before he could voice his opinion I cut in. "We will have a little committee meeting, Emerson, and solicit the advice of all those concerned-including Cyrus. Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? Excellent. I will inform Cyrus. Now let us listen to Walter's translation."

"Oh, very well," said Emerson. "What is this text you find so important, Walter?"

"I told you about it a few days ago, Radcliffe. The horoscope."

"Ah, yes," said Emerson, who obviously had no recollection of any such conversation.

"The word isn't entirely accurate," Walter explained eagerly. "It doesn't seem to be based on astrology, or any other system familiar to us. It lists the days of the year, cla.s.sifies them as good or bad, and predicts what is likely to happen. For example: 'First month of Akhet, day twenty-four. Very good. The G.o.d sails with a favorable wind. Anyone born on this day will die honored in old age.' "

"Akhet is the first season of the year, isn't it?" Lia asked.

Her father nodded. "The season of inundation, when the Nile rose and overflowed its banks. The first day of the year was marked by the reappearance of the star Sirius."

"Well, well," Emerson said, making a valiant effort. "Most interesting."

"Isn't it?" Walter beamed at him. "But that's not the most interesting section. I came across this bit yesterday. 'The day of the children of the storm. Very dangerous. Do not go on the water this day.' "

He had succeeded in capturing Emerson's attention-and mine, and that of several others. Ramses's eyebrows lifted.

"You remember what our-er-what-er-Sethos said the other evening, about the children of the storm?" Walter went on with innocent enthusiasm. "It gave me quite a strange feeling to see the same phrase in an ancient Egyptian text. Of course the reference is not at all the same. Er-Sethos-was speaking poetically and figuratively, whereas this has a specific religious meaning."

Somewhat belatedly he became aware of the unblinking stares of his companions. "Quite a coincidence, isn't it?" he asked uncertainly.