The Golden One: A Novel of Suspense by Elizabeth Peters

on. “I take it as an affront that he didn’t threaten me. Are you going to eat all the cucumber sandwiches, Peabody?” “I think,” said Nefret, passing Emerson the plate, “that in Jamil’s eyes Ramses was the hero of last year’s affair. Or villain, from Jamil’s viewpoint! Not to take anything away from you, Father — or you, Mother —” “You are quite right, my dear,” I said graciously. “We did our part, but if it had not been for Ramses —” “You ought to take it as a compliment, Father,” Ramses said. He does not often interrupt me, but he does not like to hear himself praised. “Jamil would consider it below his dignity to threaten a woman, and he obviously feels I am less dangerous than you. ‘No man dares threaten the Father of Curses!’ ” “What an annoying development!” I mused. “I had hoped the wretched boy had taken himself off to distant parts, or that he had met with a fatal accident.” “That is rather cold-blooded, Mother,” my son said. “Your mother is a practical woman,” Emerson declared. “I suppose now we’ll have to find him and turn him over to the police, which will be cursed embarrassing for everyone concerned, especially his father. We’ve left him alone, and instead of taking to his heels he has the effrontery to challenge us! He must be mad.” “Or mad for revenge,” Nefret said, her brows furrowing. “No,” I said judiciously. “He’s too much of a coward. However, his true motive is not difficult to discover. One of his most notable traits is greed. He also has an uncanny instinct for locating lost tombs. Depend on it, that is why he hasn’t left Luxor. He hopes to find another; good Gad, perhaps he has already done so!” An all-too-familiar glint brightened Emerson’s sapphirine orbs, but after a moment’s thought he shook his head regretfully. “Pure conjecture, Peabody, born of your rampageous imagination. It’s more likely that he hasn’t the courage to leave familiar surroundings and strike out on his own. He made enough from his share of the princesses’ treasure to live comfortably for a while; I would guess that the money has been squandered, and that he approached Jumana as a last resort. He won’t try it again. As for attacking Ramses — stuff and nonsense!” “Yes, but he might try and get back at Jumana,” I said. “Especially if he learns she told us he is still in Luxor. She probably won’t believe that she could be in danger from him, so we must make certain she is not allowed to go off alone. Katherine and I had agreed she would come to us; we will bring her back with us tonight. I will ask Fatima to get a room ready for her. David’s old room, I think; it is next to ours, Emerson, with windows that open only onto the courtyard. It will not be easy for anyone to get at her there — or for her to creep out unobserved.” “Are you going to tell Cyrus and Katherine about Jamil?” Nefret asked. “I am glad you raised that point, Nefret. I will explain the situation to them eventually, but I do not believe it would be advisable to mention it this evening. The walls have ears and the tongues of Luxor wag at both ends. We certainly don’t want Jamil to find out that his sister has informed on him.” “There you go, trying to make a mountain out of a molehill,” Emerson declared. “In my humble opinion, the sooner Jamil learns that we are aware of his pathetic threats, the better. He won’t dare show his face again.” “In your opinion?” I repeated. “Humble? I trust that you agree that Selim and Daoud must be informed. Harmless the wretched boy may be, but he is their cousin — of some degree — and —” “Here is Cyrus’s carriage, come for us,” Nefret said quickly. “Are we ready? Mother, where is your hat?” Cyrus’s carriage was a handsome open barouche, drawn by a splendid pair of grays. A brilliant sunset washed the western sky, and across the river the lights of Luxor began to shine. When