The Mummy Case (22 page)

We took tea alfresco, as the Italians say, arranging tables and chairs in a space cleared for that purpose before the house. The bits of sand that occasionally sprinkled tea and bread were a small inconvenience to pay for the fresh air and splendid view.

When Emerson joined me he was grumbling as usual. "How often have I told you, Amelia, that this ritual is absurd? Afternoon tea is all very well at home, but to interrupt one's work when in the field..." He seized the cup I handed him, drained it in a gulp, and returned it to me. "Petrie does not stop for tea. I won't do it, I tell you. This is the last time."

He said the same thing every day. I refilled his cup and said what I said every day, namely that an interval of refreshment increased efficiency, and that it was necessary to replenish the moisture lost from the body during the heat of the afternoon.

"Where is Ramses?" Emerson asked.

"He is late," I replied. "As to precisely where he may be, I cannot answer, thanks to your refusal to let me supervise his activities. You spoil the boy, Emerson. How many children of
his age have their own archaeological excavations?"

"He wants to surprise us, Peabody. It would be cruel to thwart
his innocent pleasures__Ah, here he is. How very tidy you
are this evening, Ramses."

Not only was he tidy, he was clean. His hair curled into tight ringlets when damp. Drops of water still sparkled in the sable coils. I was so pleased at this demonstration of conformity— for bathing was not something Ramses often engaged in of his own free will—that I did not scold him for being late or even object to the presence of the lion. Ramses secured its lead to a stone stub and began devouring bread and butter.

It was a pleasant domestic interlude; and I confess I shared Emerson's sentiments when he let out an exclamation of annoyance. "Curse it, we are going to be interrupted again. Doesn't that Frenchman do anything except pay social calls?"

The approaching figure was indeed that of de Morgan, mounted on his beautiful steed. "Ramses," I began.

"Yes, Mama. I t'ink dat de lion has had sufficient fresh air for de present." There was only time for him to thrust it into the house and close the door before de Morgan was with us.

After greetings had been exchanged and de Morgan had accepted a cup of tea, he asked how our work was going.

"Splendidly," I replied. "We have completed a survey of the area and are proceeding with trial excavations. Cemeteries of the Roman and Christian periods have been discovered."

"My commiseration, dear friends," de Morgan exclaimed. "But perhaps you will come upon something more interesting in time."

"Commiseration is not needed, monsieur," I replied. "We dote on Roman cemeteries."

"Then you will no doubt be pleased to receive another Roman mummy," said de Morgan, twirling his mustache.

"What the devil do you mean?" Emerson demanded.

"That is the reason for my visit," de Morgan replied, a Machiavellian smile curving his lips. "The stolen mummy case
has been discovered. The thieves abandoned it a few kilometers from my camp, where it was found this afternoon."

"How very strange," I said.

"No, it is easy to understand," said de Morgan patronizingly. "These thieves are ignorant people. They committed an error, taking the mummy case; having discovered its worthlessness and tiring of its weight, they simply abandoned it."

Emerson shot the Frenchman a look of blistering contempt. I said, "No doubt the baroness is glad to have her relic back."

"She will have nothing to do with it." De Morgan shook his head.
"Les femmes,
they are always illogical___That is, madame, I do not refer to you, you understand—"

"I should hope not, monsieur."

"Take it away,' she cries, waving her arms. 'Give it to Herr Professor Emerson, who has scolded me. I want nothing more to do with it, it has brought me terror and distress.' So," de Morgan concluded, "my men will fetch it to you later."

"Thank you very much," said Emerson between clenched teeth.

"Not at all." De Morgan patted the damp curls of Ramses, who was crouched at his feet like a puppy. "And how is your study of mummies progressing, mon petit?"

"I have given it up for de present," said Ramses. "I find I lack de proper instruments for such research. Accurate measurements of cranial capacity and bone development are necessary if one is to reach meaningful conclusions regarding de racial and physical—"

De Morgan interrupted with a hearty laugh. "Never mind, petit chou; if you are bored with your papa's excavations you may visit me. Tomorrow I begin a new tunnel which will surely lead me to the burial chamber."

Emerson's countenance writhed. Catching my eye, he said in a muffled voice, "Excuse me, Amelia. I must—I must—"

And, leaping from his chair, he vanished around the corner of the house.

"I take my leave of you, madame," said de Morgan, rising. "I came only to tell you that the stolen property has been recovered and to give you the baroness's farewells. She sails at dawn."

"Good," I exclaimed. "That is—I am glad she is recovered enough to continue her journey."

"I thought you might feel that way," said de Morgan with a smile. "You know that her little pet escaped after all?"

"Did it?"

For the past several minutes a muffled undercurrent of thumps and growls had issued from the house. De Morgan's smile broadened. "Yes, it did. Possibly the thieves opened the cage by mistake. Ah, well; it is a small matter."

"Quite," I said, as a howl of feline frustration arose and claws attacked the inside of the door.

After de Morgan had left, grinning like a Gallic idiot, I went in search of Emerson. I found him methodically kicking the foundations of the house, and led him back to the dig.

The rest of the day went quietly, and Emerson's temper gradually subsided under the soothing influence of professional activity. After dinner he sat down to write up his journal of the day's work, assisted by Ramses, while John and I went to the darkroom and developed the plates we had taken that day. Some had turned out quite well. Others were very blurred. John tried to take the credit for the good ones, but I soon set him straight on that, and pointed out where he had gone astray in focusing the camera.

We returned to the sitting room. The cat Bastet was sitting on top of Emerson's papers. Emerson absently lifted her up whenever he added a finished sheet to the pile. The lion cub was chewing on Emerson's bootlace. As I entered, the front door opened and Ramses appeared. He had got into the habit of spending the evening with Abdullah and the other men from Aziyeh, in order to practice his Arabic, as he claimed. I had reservations about this, but felt sure Abdullah would prevent the men from adding too extensively to Ramses' collection of
colloquialisms. I was pleased that he got on well with them. Abdullah said they enjoyed his company. I suppose he could hardly say anything else.

"Time for bed, Ramses," I said.

"Yes, Mama." He unwound the cub's leash from the legs of the table and those of his father. "I will walk de lion and den retire."

"You don't believe you can train that creature as you would a dog, do you?" I asked, in mingled amusement and exasperation.

"De experiment has never been tried, to my knowledge, Mama. I consider it wort' a try."

"Oh, very well. Put the lion in its cage before you get into bed. Make sure the shutter is tightly fastened—"

"Yes, Mama. Mama?"

"What is it, Ramses?"

He stood holding the leash, his grave dark eyes fixed on my face. "I would like to say, Mama, dat I am fully cognizant of your support and forbearance regarding de lion. I will endeavor to discover some way of proving my gratitude."

"Please don't," I exclaimed. "I appreciate your remarks, Ramses, but you can best express your gratitude by being a good little boy and obeying your mama's orders."

"Yes, Mama. Good night, Mama. Good night, John. Good night, de cat Bastet. Good night, Papa."

"Good night, my dearest boy," Emerson replied. "Sleep well."

After Ramses had gone and John had carried the tray of pottery shards to the storeroom, Emerson put down his pen and looked reproachfully at me. "Amelia, that was a very manly and loving apology you received from Ramses."

"It did not sound like an apology to me," I replied. "And when Ramses offers to do something for me, my blood runs cold in anticipation."

Emerson threw down his pen. "Curse it, Amelia, I don't understand you. Heaven knows you are an excellent mother—"

"I try to be, Emerson."

"You are, my dear, you are. Ramses does you credit. But can't you be more—more—"

"More what, Emerson?"

"More affectionate? You are always snapping at the boy."

"I am not a demonstrative person, Emerson."

"I have reason to know better," said Emerson, giving me a meaningful look.

"That is a different matter altogether. Naturally I am fond of Ramses, but I will never be one of those doting mamas who allow maternal affection to blind them to the flaws of character and behavior demonstrated by a child."

John returned at this point in the discussion. "Madam," he exclaimed, "there is a great 'uge mummy case in the courtyard. What shall I do with it?"

"It must be the baroness's mummy case," I said. "I suppose M. de Morgan's men simply dropped it and left. How vexatious! What shall we do with it, Emerson?"

"Throw the cursed thing out," Emerson replied, returning to his writing.

"We will put it with the others," I said. "Come along, John, I will unlock the storeroom."

The moon had not yet risen, but the varnished surface of the mummy case glimmered darkly in the brilliant starlight. I unlocked the door and John hoisted the coffin into his arms, as effortlessly as if it had been an empty paper shell. I was reminded of that Italian mountebank Belzoni, a former circus strongman who had turned to archaeology. He had been one of the first to excavate in Egypt, but his methods could hardly be called scientific, for among other sins he had employed gunpowder to blast his way into closed pyramids.

The storeroom was full of coffins and we had to shift several of them to find a place for the newcomer. It would have been more practical, perhaps, to open another room, but I always like to keep objects of the same type together. When the thing had been stowed away, John said, "Would you be wanting me to go to spy on Brother 'amid now, madam?"

I gave him the disguise I had procured for him. Abdullah's spare robe barely reached his shins, and the boots showing under the hem of the garment looked rather peculiar. John offered to remove them, but I decided against it. His feet were not hardened like those of the Egyptians, and if he trod on something sharp and painful he might let out a cry that would alert Hamid to his presence. I wound the turban around his head and then stood back to study the effect.

It was not convincing. However, we had done the best we could. I sent John on his way and returned to Emerson. He was curious as to why John had retired so early, but I was able to distract him without difficulty.

It seemed as if I had slept for only a few hours (which was in fact the case) when I was awakened by a furious pounding at the door. For once I was not impeded by a mosquito netting. At that season, in the desert, the noxious insects do not present a problem. Springing from the bed, I seized my parasol and assumed a posture of defense. Then I recognized the voice that was calling my name.

Emerson was swearing and flailing around in the bed when I flung the door open. The first streaks of dawn warmed the sky, but the courtyard was still deep in shadow. Yet there was no mistaking the large form that confronted me. Even if I had not recognized John's voice, I would have recognized his shape. That shape was, however, oddly distorted, and after a moment I realized that he held a smaller, slighter body closely clasped in his arms.

"Who the devil have you got there?" I asked, forgetting my usual adherence to proper language in my surprise.

"Sister Charity, madam," said John.

"Will you please ask him to let me down, ma'am?" the girl asked faintly. "I am not injured, but Brother John insists—"

"Don't move, either of you," I interrupted. "This is a most unprecedented situation, and before I can assess it properly I must have light." A vehement curse from the direction of the
nuptial couch reminded me of something I had momentarily overlooked and I added quickly, "Emerson, pray remain recumbent and wrapped in the blanket. There is a lady present."

"Curse it, curse it, curse it," Emerson cried passionately. "Amelia—"

"Yes, my dear, I have the matter well in hand," I replied
soothingly. "Just a moment till I light the lamp__There. Now
we will see what is going on."

First I made certain Emerson was not in a state that would cause embarrassment to him or to anyone else. Only his head protruded from the sheet he had wrapped around himself. The expression on his face did his handsome features no justice.

John's turban had come unwound and hung down his back. His once snowy robe was ripped half off; the tattered remnants were blackened by what I first took to be dried blood. A closer examination proved that the stains were those of smoke and charring. His face was equally smudged, but the broad smile on his lips and the steady beam of his blue eyes assured me he had taken no hurt.

The girl was also disheveled but unmarked by fire. Her mousy brown hair tumbled over her shoulders and her face was flushed with excitement and embarrassment as she struggled to free herself from the brawny arms that clasped her. Her feet were bare. She wore a garment of voluminous cut and dismal color, dark blue or black, that covered her from the base of her throat to her ankles. It had long tight sleeves. A nightcap dangled from her neck by its strings.

"Please, ma'am, tell him to put me down," she gasped.

"All in due time," I assured her. "Now, John, you may tell me what has happened."

"There was a fire, madam."

"I deduced as much, John. Where was the fire?"

It is expedient to summarize John's statement, which had to be extracted from him sentence by sentence. He had been hiding among the palms near the chapel when he had seen a tongue of flame rise from behind that edifice. His cries had aroused
the men, and with their assistance he had succeeded in quenching the conflagration before it did much damage. No help had come from the village; indeed the place had remained suspiciously dark and silent, though the shouts of the missionaries must have been heard. A search of the area revealed no sign of the arsonist. The fire had been deliberately set, getting its start in a pile of dry branches and palm fronds heaped against the foundation of the little church. Once the flames were extinguished, John had seized the girl and carried her off.

"What the devil for?" cried Emerson, from the bed.

"To bring her to Mrs. Emerson, of course," John replied, his eyes widening.

Emerson subsided with a curse. "Of course. Everyone brings everything to Mrs. Emerson. Lions, mummy cases, miscellaneous young ladies—"

"And quite right, too," I said. "Pay no attention to Professor Emerson, my dear Miss Charity. He would welcome you with the kindness that is his most conspicuous characteristic were he not a trifle out of sorts because—"

"I beg you will not explain, Amelia," said my husband in tones of freezing disapproval. "Er—hem. I am not objecting to the presence of Miss Charity, but to the invasion that will inevitably follow. Would it be too much to ask, Amelia, that the young person be removed so that I may assume my trousers? A man is at a decided disadvantage when he receives irate brothers and indignant lovers wrapped in a sheet."

My dear Emerson was himself again, and I was happy to accede to this reasonable request. "Certainly, my dear," I replied. "John, take the young lady to your room."

The girl shrieked and resumed her struggles. "It is the only room fit for habitation that is presently available," I explained, somewhat irritated at this excessive display of sensibility. "Wait a moment until I find my slippers and I will accompany you. Curse it, where are they?"

"Madam!" John exclaimed.

"You will excuse my language," I said, kneeling to look under
the bed. "Ah, here they are. Just as I suspected—Ramses has let the lion in the room, after I strictly forbade it."

"Lion?" Charity gasped. "Did you say..."

"You see how they are chewed. I told that child... Dear me, I believe the girl has fainted. Just as well. Take her along, John, I will follow."

The ensuing hour was a period of unprecedented confusion, but I recall it without chagrin; I rise to my true powers in periods of confusion. Ramses had been awakened by the noise. He and the cat and the lion followed us to John's room, spouting questions (in the case of Ramses) and attacking the tatters of John's robe (in the case of the lion). I ordered all three back to Ramses' room, and after John had placed the girl on his cot, directed him to withdraw to the same location. The only one who refused to obey was the cat Bastet. Squatting on the floor by the bed, she watched interestedly as I sought to restore Charity to her senses.

As soon as she recovered she insisted, almost hysterically, upon leaving the room. Apparently the very idea of being in a young man's bedchamber in her nightgown was indelicate. I had ascertained that she was unharmed, so I gave in to her foolish insistence, and when we reached the parlor she became calmer.

The expected invasion had not yet occurred, but I felt sure Emerson was right; the outraged brother would come in search of his sister, and Brother David would undoubtedly be with him, though Emerson's designation of the latter as Charity's lover was only another example of Emerson's failure to comprehend the subtler currents of the human heart. I decided I had better take advantage of this opportunity to talk with the girl alone, and I got straight to the point.