The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters Page B

terms with pretty young women.
    We left Emerson and the boys in the Salle d’Honneur and proceeded to the administrative offices on the north side of the building. Maspero was expecting us. He kissed our hands and paid us his usual extravagant compliments—which were, honesty compels me to admit, not undeserved. Nefret looked quite the lady in her spotless white gloves and beribboned hat; her elegant frock of green muslin set off her slim figure and golden-red hair. My own frock was a new one and I had put aside my heavy working parasol for one that matched the dress. Like all my parasols it had a stout steel shaft and a rather sharp point, but ruffles and lace concealed its utility.
    After a servant had served tea, I began by making Emerson’s apologies. “We are to leave Cairo in two days, Monsieur, and he has a great deal of work to do. He asked me to present his compliments.”
    Maspero was too intelligent to believe this and too suave to say so. “You will, I hope, present my compliments to the Professor.”
    Frenchmen are almost as fond as Arabs of prolonged and formal courtesies. It took me a while to get to the reason for my visit. I had not counted on a positive answer, so I was not surprised—though I was disappointed—when Maspero’s face lost its smile.
    “Alas, chère Madame, I would do anything in my power to please you, but you must see that it is impossible for me to give the Professor permission to carry out new excavations in the Valley of the Kings. Mr. Theodore Davis has the concession and I cannot arbitrarily take it from him, particularly when he has had such remarkable luck in finding new tombs. Have you seen the display of the materials he discovered last year in the tomb of the parents of Queen Tiyi?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “But, Monsieur Maspero, it is such a pity.” Nefret leaned forward. “The Professor is the finest excavator in Egypt. He is wasting his talents on those boring little tombs.”
    Maspero gazed admiringly at her wide blue eyes and prettily flushed cheeks—but he shook his head. “Mademoiselle, no one regrets this more than I. No one respects the abilities of M. Emerson more than I. It is entirely his decision. There are hundreds of other sites in Egypt. They are at his disposal—except for the Valley of the Kings.”
    After chatting a little longer we took our leave, and had our hands kissed again.
    “Curse it,” said Nefret, as we made our way toward the Mummy Room, where we had arranged to meet the others.
    “Don’t swear,” I said automatically.
    “That was not swearing. What an obdurate old man Maspero is!”
    “It is not altogether his fault,” I admitted. “He exaggerated, of course, when he said Emerson could have any other site in Egypt. A good many of them have already been assigned, but there are others, even in the Theban area. It is only Emerson’s confounded stubbornness that keeps us chained to our boring task. Where the devil has he got to?”
    We finally tracked him down where I might have expected he would be—brooding gloomily over the exhibit Maspero had referred to. Mr. Davis’s discovery—or, to be more accurate, the discovery of Mr. Quibell, who had been supervising the excavations at that time—was that of a tomb that had survived until modern times with its contents almost untouched. The objects were not as fine as the onesWE had found in Queen Tetisheri’s tomb, of course. Yuya and Thuya had been commoners, but their daughter was a queen, the chief wife of the great Amenhotep III, and their mortuary equipment included several gifts from the royal family.
    “Ah, there you are, my dear,” I said. “I hope we did not keep you waiting.”
    Emerson was in such an evil temper that my sarcasm went unremarked. “Do you know how long it took Davis to clear this tomb? Three weeks! We spent three years with Tetisheri! One can only wonder—”
    I cut his fulminations short. “Yes, my dear, I am in complete agreement, but I am ready for