Part 8 (1/2)

”Hardly in the neighborhood. Admit it, Peabody, you favor Meidum because there is a pyramid.”

”We must start somewhere. After Meidum we could- ”

A knock at the door interrupted me. The safragi entered, carrying a bouquet of flowers. I had already received several floral offerings from our guests of the previous evening, M. Maspero's was the largest and most extravagant. All the vases were in use, so I sent the servant out to find another while I admired the pretty arrangement of roses and mimosa.

”No red roses?” Emerson inquired with a smile. ”I don't allow you to accept red roses from gentlemen, Peabody.”

In the language of flowers, red roses signify pa.s.sionate love. It was rea.s.suring to hear him speak jestingly of a subject that had once driven him into a jealous rage. So I told myself, at any rate.

”They are white,” I replied rather shortly. ”I wonder who . . Ah, here is a card. Mr. Vincey! A gentlemanly gesture, upon my word. I hardly had a chance to speak to him. By the by, Emerson, I have been meaning to ask you- what was the disgraceful business you referred to?”

”The Nimrud treasure. You must have read of it.”

”I do remember seeing newspaper accounts, but that was some years ago, before I took a personal interest in archaeology. The cache was a rich one- gold and silver vessels, jewelry and the like, it was sold, as I recall, to the Metropolitan Museum.”

”Correct. What the newspapers did not report, because they are well aware of the laws of libel, was that Vincey was suspected of being the agent through whom the museum acquired the collection. He was excavating at Nimrud for Schamburg, the German millionaire”

”You mean he found the gold and did not report the discovery to his patron or the local authorities?

How shocking!”

”Shocking indeed, but not necessarily illegal. The laws regarding the disposition of antiquities and the owners.h.i.+p of buried treasure were even more undefined then than they are today In any case, nothing could be proved. If Vincey did peddle the loot to the Metropolitan, he did it through an intermediary, and the museum was no more anxious than he to explain the transaction.”

I could see that Emerson was beginning to get restless. He tapped out his pipe, shuffled his feet, and reached again for the map. Nevertheless I persisted.

”Then that is why I am not familiar with Mr. Vincey's archaeological career. The mere suspicion of such dishonesty- ”

”Ended that career,” Emerson finished. ”No one would employ him again. It was a promising career, too. He began in Egyptology- did good work at Kom Ombo and Denderah. There was some talk . . . But why are we sitting here gossiping like a pair of old ladies? Get dressed and let us go out.”

He rose, stretching. The movement displayed his form to best advantage: the breadth of his chest and shoulders, the lean, sinewy shape of the lower portion of his frame. I suspected he had done it to distract me, for Emerson is well aware of my appreciation of the aesthetic qualities of his person. I persisted, however, inquiring, ”Were you, by any chance, the one who brought his malfeasance to light?”

”I? Certainly not. In fact, I came to his defense, pointing out that other excavators, including certain officials of the British Museum, were equally unscrupulous in their methods of obtaining antiquities.”

”Why, Emerson, what a specious argument! I am surprised at you.”

”The treasure was better off at the Metropolitan than in some private collection.”

”An even less tenable argument.”

Emerson started for the bedroom. It was his little way of indicating he did not care to discuss the subject further. I had, however, one more question.

”Why did you bring up the subject in that rude way? The others were willing to let the past be forgotten- ”

Emerson whirled, his manly countenance aglow with honest indignation. ”I, rude? You know nothing about the traditions of masculine conversation, Peabody. That was just a friendly jest.”

The succeeding days were very pleasant. It had been a long time since we had had the leisure to wander around Cairo renewing old acquaintances, to linger in the coffee shops fahddling with grave scholars from the university, and to explore the bookshops in the bazaar. We spent an evening with our old friend Sheikh Mohammed Bahsoor, and ate far too much. Not to have stuffed ourselves would have been a grievous breach of good manners, even though I knew I would have to put up with Emerson's snoring all night as a result. He always snores when he has taken too much to eat. The sheikh was disappointed to learn that Ramses was not with us and shook his head disapprovingly when I explained that the boy had remained in England to pursue his education. ”What useful matters can he learn there? You should let him come to me, Sitt Hakim, I will teach him to ride and shoot and govern the hearts of men.”

M. Loret, the Director of the Department of Antiquities, was in Luxor, so we were unable to call on him as was proper, but we spent time with other colleagues, bringing ourselves up-to-date on the current state of archaeological excavation and the availability of trained personnel. One day we lunched with the Reverend Sayce on his dahabeeyah in order to meet a student of whom he had great hopes. The Istar Istar was not nearly so fine a boat as the Pbilae, my own beloved dahabeeyah, but it recalled poignant memories of that never-to-be forgotten voyage I could not restrain a sigh when we took our leave, and Emerson glanced questionirigly at me. was not nearly so fine a boat as the Pbilae, my own beloved dahabeeyah, but it recalled poignant memories of that never-to-be forgotten voyage I could not restrain a sigh when we took our leave, and Emerson glanced questionirigly at me.

”Why so pensive, Peabody? Were you not impressed with Mr. Jackson's qualifications?”