Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense by Elizabeth Peters Page A

discretion from bitter experience, and she had heard a great deal from me about the untrustworthiness of journalists. "You appear to have unofficial sources of information about matters that are not common knowledge," I said, hoping to provoke Miss Minton into an indiscretion. I ought to have known better. She shrugged, and took another sip of water. "All journalists rely on such sources, and there is always someone open to bribery. Well, I must be going. It has been a great pleasure to see you all again and to meet your lovely wife, Ramses ... if I may use the name by which I used to call you." "It was Master Ramses," said my son coolly. "While you were employed as our housemaid." She gave him an appreciative, unembarrassed smile. "Touche- Mr. Emerson. You still favor plain speaking, I see. Good. So do I." To my surprise, for I had expected her to prolong her leave-taking, she started to walk away. The surface was uneven. There were pebbles and bits of broken stone littering the ground. However, I suspected it was not a coincidence that she tripped and lost her balance just as she was passing Ramses. He put out a hand to catch and steady her, and was visibly taken aback to find himself in a close embrace. Clinging to him, her arms around his neck and her body pressed against his, she looked up at him with a smile. "Thank you. How quick you were! You saved me from a nasty fall." "Bruised knees and scraped hands, rather," said Ramses, recovering himself. It is very difficult to disconcert Ramses for long. "Are you able to walk, or shall I call one of the dragomen to help you to your carriage?" "No, that won't be necessary." She detached herself with brisk efficiency. "I hope you didn't hurt your arm again when you caught me. What happened to it?" "Accidents frequently occur on a dig," Ramses said. "Ah." Miss Minton straightened her shirtwaist and tucked it in. "Well, then, good-bye. I will see you tomorrow, Mrs. Emerson. Five o'clock at the Semiramis?" "What was that all about?" said Emerson, as the trim little figure strutted away-there is really no other word for the way the woman walked when she was pleased with herself. I remembered that walk very well. I wondered too. Her stumble had been no accident, and her embrace had been deliberately calculated. It had not been a romantic advance. She was far too clever and sophisticated to resort to a trick like that one to get a man's attention, especially with that man's wife only two feet away. If it had accomplished nothing else, it had aroused my curiosity and convinced me that I had better accept her "invitation."
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    When I entered the Semiramis shortly after five I was met by the concierge, who informed me that Miss Minton had requested that I take tea with her in her room. Aha, I thought, I was right. She has something to tell me, or demand of me-some matter that requires privacy. This was not an ordinary social encounter. Not that I had ever supposed it was. I took the lift to the fourth floor, where the safragi escorted me to her door. It was a pleasant little suite, consisting of parlor and bedchamber; the parlor also served as her office, for there were books scattered about and piles of papers neatly arranged on a table under the window. After she had greeted me and offered me a chair, Miss Minton sat down behind the tea tray. "How do you take your tea, Mrs. Emerson? If I had remained in your household long enough to reach the exalted station of parlormaid I would know the answer, but-" "Milk, please. I marvel at your audacity, Miss Minton. You ought to recall your shameless masquerade with embarrassment and regret, not make a joke of it." "Ramses did. At least I assume he was joking. Come now, Mrs. Emerson, it was a long time ago; haven't you forgiven me for that harmless prank?" "I am not concerned about the past, but the present. You haven't changed your spots, Miss Minton. You would not have been so persistent if you only wanted to renew old acquaintances. What are