The Last Camel Died at Noon (3 page)

After Rose had stripped me of my garments and popped me into the tub, she deemed that the soothing effect of hot water would soften me enough to hear the truth. In fact, it was not as bad as I had feared. It seems I had neglected to forbid Ramses to take a bath.

Rose assured me that the ceiling of Professor Emerson's study was not much damaged, and she thought the carpet would be all the better for a good washing. Ramses had fully intended to turn off the water and no doubt he would have remembered to do so, only the cat Bastet had caught a mouse, and if he had delayed in rushing to the rodent's rescue, Bastet would have dispatched it. As a result of his prompt action the mouse was now resting quietly, its wounds dressed, in Ramses's closet.

Rose hates mice. 'Never mind,' I said wearily. 'I don't want to hear any more. I don't want to know what forced Ramses to the dire expedient of bathing. I don't want to know what Professor Emerson said when his ceiling began spouting water. Just hand me that glass, Rose, and then go quietly away.'

The whiskey and soda had been delivered. An application of that beverage internally and of hot water externally eventually restored me to my usual spirits, and when I went to the drawing room, trailing my crimson flounces and looking, I fancy, as well as I have ever looked, the smiling faces of my beloved family assured me that all was well.

Evelyn wore a gown of the soft azure that intensified the blue of her eyes and set off her golden hair. The gown was already sadly crushed, for children are drawn to my dear friend as bees are drawn to a flower. She had the baby on her lap and little Amelia beside her, in the maternal clasp of her arm. The twins sat at her feet, mashing her skirts. Raddie, my eldest nephew, leaned over the arm of the sofa where his mother sat, and Ramses leaned against Raddie, getting as close to his aunt's ear as was possible. He was, as usual, talking.

He broke off when I entered, and I studied him thoughtfully. He was extremely clean. Had I not known the reason I would have commended him, for the condition is not natural to him. I had determined not to mar the congeniality of the gathering by any reference to earlier unpleasantness, but something in my expression must have made Emerson aware of what I was thinking. He came quickly to me, gave me a hearty kiss, and shoved a glass into my hand.

'How lovely you look, my dearest Peabody. A new gown, eh? It becomes you.'

I allowed him to lead me to a chair: 'Thank you, my dear Emerson. I have had this dress for a year and you have seen it at least a dozen times, but the compliment is appreciated nonetheless.' Emerson too was extremely clean. His dark hair lay in soft waves, as it did when it had just been washed. I deduced that a quantity of water, and perhaps plaster, had fallen on his head. If he was prepared to overlook the incident, I could do no less, so I turned to my brother-in-law, who stood leaning against the mantel watching us with an affectionate smile.

'I saw your friend and rival Frank Griffiths today, Walter. He sends his regards and asked me to tell you he is making excellent progress with the Oxyrynchos papyrus.'

Walter looks like the scholar he is. The lines in his thin cheeks deepened and he adjusted his eyeglasses. 'Now, Amelia dear, don't try to stir up a competition between me and Frank. He is a splendid linguist and a good friend. I don't envy him his papyrus; Radcliffe has promised me Meroitic inscriptions by the cartload. I can hardly wait.'

Walter is one of the few people who is allowed to refer to Emerson by his given name, which he detests. He flinched visibly, but said only, 'So you stopped by the British Museum, Peabody?'

'Yes.' I took a sip of my whiskey. 'No doubt it will come as a great surprise to you, Emerson, to learn that Budge also proposes to travel to the Sudan this autumn. In fact, he has already left.'

'Er, hmmm,' said Emerson. 'No! Indeed!'

Emerson considers most Egyptologists incompetent bunglers - which they are, by his austere standards - but Wallis Budge, the Keeper of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities at the British Museum, was his particular bete noire.

'Indeed!' Walter repeated. His eyes twinkled. 'Well, that should make your winter's activities even more interesting, Amelia. Keeping those two from one another's throats - '

'Bah,' said Emerson. 'Walter, I resent the implication. How you could suppose me so forgetful of the dignity of my profession and my own self-esteem... I don't intend to come within throat-grasping reach of the rascal. And he had better i stay away from me, or I will throttle him.

Always the peacemaker, Evelyn attempted to change the 1 subject. 'Did you hear anything more about Professor Petrie's' engagement, Amelia? Is it true that he is soon to be married?'

'I believe so, Evelyn. Everyone is talking about it.'

'Gossiping, you mean,' said Emerson, with a snort. 'To see Petrie, who was always wedded to his profession and had no time for the softer emotions, fall head over heels for a chit of a girl... They say she is a good twenty years younger than he.'

'Now who is engaging in ill-natured gossip?' I demanded. 'By all accounts she is an excellent young woman and he is utterly besotted with her. We must think of a suitable wedding present, Emerson. A handsome silver epergne, perhaps.'

'What the devil would Petrie do with an epergne?' Emerson asked. 'The man lives like a savage. He would probably soak potsherds in it.'

We were discussing the matter when the door opened. I glanced up, expecting to see that Rose had come to take the children away, for it was approaching the dinner hour. But it was Gargery, not Rose, and the butler's face wore the frown that betokened an unwelcome announcement.

'There is a gentleman to see you, Professor. I informed him that you did not see callers at this time of day but he - '

'He must have urgent reasons for disturbing us,' I interrupted, seeing my husband's brows draw together. 'A gentleman, you said, Gargery?'

The butler inclined his head. Advancing upon Emerson, he offered the salver on which rested a chaste white calling card.

'Hmph,' said Emerson, taking the card. 'The Honourable Reginald Forthright. Never heard of him. Tell him to go away, Gargery.'

'No, wait,' I said. 'I think you ought to see him, Emerson.'

'Amelia, your insatiable curiosity will be the death of me,' Emerson cried. 'I don't want to see the fellow. I want my whiskey and soda, I want to enjoy the company of my family, I want my dinner. I refuse -'

The door, which Gargery had closed behind him, burst open. The butler staggered back before the impetuous rush of the newcomer. Hatless, dripping, white-faced, he crossed the room in a series of bounds and stopped, swaying, before Walter, who stared at him in astonishment.

'Professor,' he cried. 'I know I intrude - I beg you to forgive me - and to hear me -'

And then, before Walter could recover from his surprise or any of us could move, the stranger toppled forward and fell prostrate on the hearthrug.

'My Son Lives!'

Emerson was the first to break the silence. Get up at once, you clumsy young ruffian,' he said irritably. 'Of all the confounded impudence - '

Tor pity's sake, Emerson,' I exclaimed, hastening to the side of the fallen man. 'Can't you see he has fainted? I shudder to think what unimaginable horror can have reduced him to such straits.'

'No, you don't,' said Emerson. 'You revel in unimaginable horrors. Pray control your rampageous imagination. Fainted, indeed! He is probably drunk.'

'Fetch some brandy at once,' I ordered. With some difficulty - for the unconscious man was heavier than his slight build had led me to expect - I turned him on his back and lifted his head onto my lap.

Emerson folded his arms and stood looking on, a sneer wreathing his well-cut lips. It was Ramses who approached with the glass of brandy I had requested; I took it from him, finding, as I had expected, that the outside of the glass was as wet as the inside.

'I am afraid some was spilled,' Ramses explained. 'Mama, if I may make a suggestion - '

'No, you may not,' I replied.

'But I have read that it is inadvisable to administer brandy or any other liquid to an unconscious man. There is some danger of-'

'Yes, yes, Ramses, I am well aware of that. Do be still.' Mr Forthright did not appear to be in serious condition. His colour was good, and there was no sign of an injury. I estimated his age to be in the early thirties. His features were agreeable rather than handsome, the eyes wide-set under arching brows, the lips full and gently curved. His most unusual physical characteristic was the colour of the hair that adorned his upper lip and his head. A bright, unfashionable but nonetheless striking copper, with glints of gold, it curled becomingly upon his temples.

I proceeded with my administrations; it was not long before the young man's eyes opened and he gazed with wonder into my face. His first words were 'Where am I?'

'On my hearthrug,' said Emerson, looming over him. 'What a da - er - confounded silly question. Explain yourself at once, you presumptuous puppy, before I have you thrown out.'

A deep blush stained Forthright's cheeks. 'You - you are Professor Emerson?'

'One of them.' Emerson indicated Walter, who adjusted his spectacles and coughed deprecatingly. Admittedly he more nearly resembled the popular picture of a scholar than my husband, whose keen blue eyes and healthy complexion, not to mention his impressive musculature, suggest a man of action rather than thought.

'Oh - I see. I beg your pardon - for the confusion, and for my unpardonable intrusion. But I hope when you hear my story you will forgive and assist me. The Professor Emerson I seek is the Egyptologist whose courage and physical prowess are as famous as are his intellectual powers.'

'Er, hmmm,' said Emerson. 'Yes. You have found him. And now, if you will remove yourself from the arms of my wife, at whom you are staring with an intensity that compounds your initial offence...'

The young man sat up as if he had been propelled by a spring, stammering apologies. Emerson assisted him to a chair - that is to say, he shoved him into one - and, with a scarcely less heavy

hand, helped me to rise. Turning, I saw that Evelyn had gathered the children and was shepherding them from the room. I nodded gratefully at her and was rewarded by one of her sweet smiles.

Our unexpected visitor began with a question. 'Is it true, Professor that you are planning to travel in the Sudan this year?'

'Where did you hear that?' Emerson demanded.

Mr Forthright smiled. 'Your activities, Professor, will always be a subject of interest, not only to the archaeological community but to the public at large. As it happens, I am in an indirect manner connected with the former group. You will not have heard my name, but I am sure you are familiar with that of my grandfather, for he is a well-known patron of archaeological subjects - Viscount Blacktower.'

'Good Gad!' Emerson bellowed.

Mr Forthright started. 'I - I beg your pardon, Professor?'

Emerson's countenance, ruddy with fury, might have intimidated any man, but his terrible frown was not directed at Mr Forthright. It was directed at me. 'I knew it,' Emerson said bitterly. 'Am I never to be free of them? You attract them, Amelia. I don't know how you do it, but it is becoming a pernicious habit. Another cursed aristocrat!'

Walter was unable to repress a chuckle, and I confess to some amusement on my own part; Emerson sounded for all the world like an infuriated sans-culotte, demanding the guillotine for the hated aristos.

Mr Forthright cast an uneasy glance at Emerson.

'I will be as brief as possible,' he began.

'Good,' said Emerson.

'Er - but I fear I must give you some background if you are to understand my difficulty.'

'Curse it,' said Emerson.

'My... my grandfather had two sons.'

'Curse him,' said Emerson.

'Uh... my father was the younger. His elder brother, who was of course the heir, was Willoughby Forth.'

'Willie Forth the explorer?' Emerson repeated, in quite a different tone of voice. 'You are his nephew? But your name

'My father married Miss Wright, the only child of a wealthy merchant. At his father-in-law's request, he added the surname of Wright to his own. Since most people, hearing the combined name, assumed it to be a single word, I found it simpler to adopt that version.'

'How accommodating of you,' said Emerson. 'You don't resemble your uncle, Mr Forthright. He would have made two of you.'

'His name is familiar,' I said. 'Was it he who proved once and for all that Lake Victoria is the source of the White Nile?'

'No; he clung doggedly to the belief that the Lualaba River was part of the Nile until Stanley proved him wrong by actually sailing down the Lualaba to the Congo, and thence to the Atlantic.' Willoughby Forth's nephew smiled sardonically. 'That, I fear, was the sad pattern of his life. He was always a few months late or a few hundred miles off. It was his great ambition to go down in history as the discoverer of... something. Anything! An ambition that was never realised.'

'An ambition that cost him his life,' Emerson said reflectively. 'And that of his wife. They disappeared in the Sudan ten years ago.'

'Fourteen years ago, to be precise.' Forthright stiffened. 'Did I hear someone at the door?'

'I heard nothing.' Emerson studied him keenly. 'Am I to expect another uninvited visitor this evening?'

'I fear so. But pray let me continue. You must hear my story before -'

'I beg, Mr Forthright, that you allow me to be the judge of what must or must not be done in my house,' said Emerson. 'I am not a man who enjoys surprises. I like to be prepared for visitors, especially when they are members of the aristocracy. Is it your grandfather whom you expect?'

'Yes. Please, Professor, allow me to explain. Uncle Willoughby was always the favoured son. Not only did he share my grandfather's archaeological and geographical interests, but he had the physical strength and daring his younger brother lacked. My poor dear father was never strong - '

I could tell by Emerson's expression that he was about to say something rude, so I took it upon myself to intervene. 'Get to the point, Mr Forthright.'