Tomb of the Golden Bird Read Free Page A

well, Emerson," I said, after a few refreshing sips of whiskey. "The moment has come. You have had several interviews with the director of the Antiquities Service, and since you did not return from them in a state of profane exasperation I presume M. Lacau was agreeable to your request. What site has he allotted to us?" "You know," Emerson said. "I told you before." "No, you did not." "The West Valley?" inquired Ramses. Emerson, who had been anticipating the prolongation of suspense, looked chagrined. "Er . . . yes. Quite right." "What about Carter and Carnarvon?" I persisted. "If their dig in the East Valley comes up empty, won't they want to move to the West Valley? It is properly part of their firman." "If—that is to say, when—they give up the East Valley, Carnarvon may decide to end the season," Emerson said. "If they do continue, it will most likely be in the tomb of Amenhotep III. Carter made a very cursory excavation there in 1919. It's at the far end of the West Valley from the area in which we would be working. There's room for half a dozen expeditions." I seized my opening. "It would make better sense for us to join forces with Cyrus Vandergelt at the tomb of Ay. We are short on staff, and Cyrus has—" A timid tap at the door interrupted me. "Now who the devil can that be?" Emerson demanded. "I am ready for dinner. Where's Nefret?" "She'll be here directly," Ramses said. "She wanted to bathe and change." "Answer the door, Emerson," I said impatiently. The suffragi on duty outside bowed low and handed Emerson a slip of pasteboard. "The gentleman is waiting, Father of Curses." "He can damn well go on waiting," said Emerson, inspecting thecard. "Of all the impertinence. It's that rascal Montague, Peabody. I won't see him." Emerson seldom wants to see anyone, but he had a particular animus against Sir Malcolm Page Henley de Montague. He was a wealthy collector of antiquities, a category to which my spouse objects on principle, and a very irritating man in his own right. I doubted that he had called upon us from motives of friendship. However, it is advantageous to discover the motives of such persons in order to guard oneself against their machinations. "Now, Emerson, don't be rude," I said. "We can't go down to dinner until Nefret is ready, so we may as well hear what he has to say. Show him in, Ali." Sir Malcolm carried a silver-headed stick, not for support but for swatting at the unfortunate Egyptian servants he employed. Carefully doffing his hat so as not to disturb his coiffured mane of white hair, he bowed and greeted us all in turn. "It is good to see you back in Egypt," he began. "Bah," said Emerson. "What do you want?" "Pray take a chair, Sir Malcolm," I said, frowning at Emerson. "We were about to go down to dinner, but we can spare you a few minutes." The door, which Ali had closed behind Sir Malcolm, opened again to admit Nefret. Her eyes widened at the sight of our visitor, but she extended her hand and let him bow over it. His look of admiration was justified; she looked very lovely, although the styles of that year were not nearly so pretty as they had been in my youth. The frock, of a soft blue that matched her eyes, had no sleeves, only narrow straps supporting a beaded bodice, and the skirt reached just below her knees. At least she had not given in to the fad of cutting her hair short; its red-gold locks were swept into a knot atop her head. "I apologize for coming at an inopportune time," said Sir Malcolm. "Since I know the Professor dislikes social conventions, I will come straight to the point. May I ask where you intend to work this season?" "The West Valley of the Kings," said Emerson shortly. "Not the East Valley?" "No." "Then Carnarvon has not abandoned the concession?" "No." I was surprised that Emerson had not informed Sir Malcolm at the outset that it was none of his (expletive) business where we intended to excavate. He can control his temper when it is to his advantage to do so, and