Daughter of the God-King(52)

Berry ruthlessly drew him back. “We sail on the Priapus tomorrow. If Mademoiselle Blackhouse could be issued a safe passage, under the imprimatur of the Consul General, it would ensure the utmost cooperation of those on whom we must rely.”

The man nodded, impressed. “Another excellent suggestion, sir; allow me to arrange for it now, before you depart.” Rising to leave the room, he threw Eugenie a glance and left the door ajar. That lady, nothing loath, rose and stretched like a cat then wandered out the door toward the antechamber.

Speculating, Hattie glanced at Berry, wondering what he was about. “You are very thorough in your preparations.”

“Your safety is of paramount importance.” She had the impression he was listening, but there was only silence from the antechamber, or at least as far as Hattie could tell.

After a pause, she ventured, “Why a safe passage? Is it what it sounds?”

He brought his attention back to her. “Yes—it is a diplomatic document that allows the bearer free passage without need of a passport or other identification. It is merely a precautionary measure.”

If Hattie wondered why someone as well-known as herself, armed with a passport and bearing a famous resemblance to the entombed princess, would need such a document, she kept the thought to herself.

The undersecretary returned with a formal-looking parchment but Eugenie was nowhere in evidence. “Here it is; the safe passage. Shall I make it out?”

“No need—I will see to it.” Berry gave it a glance and deposited the folded document in an inner pocket.

They conveyed their gratitude and the official said all that was proper as he ushered them back into the foyer where Eugenie was now deep in conversation with the desk clerk, who had the look of a man who could not believe his good fortune. She is a handful, thought Hattie—lucky for him, she is not Berry’s handful. The undersecretary cleared his throat in disapproval and the man snapped to attention. Farewells were said all around, the undersecretary murmuring something to Eugenie that made her laugh. He then smiled with kindness as he bowed over Hattie’s hand. “I shall hope you discover only good news, Miss Blackhouse.”

Hattie returned his smile even though they were both aware of the unlikeliness of this. “If nothing else I shall discover the Egypt they knew.”

“Perhaps you will carry on their work,” he suggested kindly. “It is in the blood, after all.”

Definitely not in my blood, Hattie thought as she made an equivocal answer and they parted. As they were escorted toward the entrance, Berry asked, “You have no interest in Egyptology?”

Hattie shook her head without shame. “Absolutely none. My knowledge of the subject is only slightly more than yours—which is nearly nonexistent.” She had the satisfaction of hearing him chuckle and looked up to him with a twinkle.

When they emerged into the sunlight, a roar erupted. Startled, Hattie was met with the sight of a large crowd gathered at the base of the steps with all eyes fixed upon her. Holding out an arm to halt her progress, Berry ushered her back through the door and into the foyer. “It would be best,” he informed the astonished footman, “if a covered coach could be sent to the back entrance, with some outriders.” Acutely embarrassed, Hattie stood with Berry and Eugenie while the sound of many murmuring voices could heard—the words dgahtr af discernible above all else.

“You are la héroïne,” noted Eugenie in surprise, as though it was hard to credit. “Why is this?”

“My parents distributed a likeness of the god-king’s daughter and used me as a model,” Hattie explained. “I’m afraid the locals have gained the wrong impression.”

“Extraordinaire,” the other agreed in wonderment. “They are indeed foolish, no?”

“Come,” said Berry, indicating the footman who beckoned to them from the back entrance.

“J’ai la clef,” said Eugenie to him in a low voice as she walked past, her tone triumphant.

“Which key is that?” asked Hattie as they crossed the hallway, distracted by the clamor and wondering what was meant.

Eugenie paused. “Que?”

“Didn’t you say you have a key?” asked Hattie in French. She had a solid knowledge of the language, her governess having been an avid Francophile.

“No, no,” Eugenie laughed. “Instead, I said we were brief—nous étions bref.” She smiled indulgently. “Your French is only fair, n’est-ce pas?”

“Mais oui,” agreed Hattie with a smile, wondering with alarm why Berry would wish to steal a key to the British consulate.