The Mummy Case (24 page)

"It seemed the logical place, Emerson."

"Then there ought to be eight mummy cases here."

"My reckoning agrees with yours, Emerson."

"One is missing."

"It seems a reasonable conclusion."

Emerson's fingers clawed at his chin. "Fetch John," he said.

I turned to obey; this was not the time to cavil at an unnecessarily peremptory tone. From one of the doors along the line of cells a head protruded. "May I come out, Mama?" Ramses inquired.

"You may as well. Find John."

"He is here, Mama."

The pair soon joined us and Emerson, with John's help, began removing the mummy cases from the storeroom. When they were lined up in a grisly row, Emerson looked them over.

"These are the coffins we found, Peabody," he announced. "It must be the one belonging to the baroness that has been stolen—again."

"Wrong, Emerson. That"—I pointed—"is the mummy case John and I put in this room last night. I remember the patch of missing varnish on the foot, and also the relative location, which I noted when you removed them."

"Wrong, Peabody. I know each and every one of these mummy cases. I could as easily be mistaken as to the identity of my own mother."

"Since you haven't seen the dear old lady for fifteen years, you might easily make such a mistake."

"Never mind my mother," Emerson retorted. "I can't imagine why we brought her into this. If you don't believe me, Peabody, we will check my notes. I made careful descriptions of the coffins, as I always do."

"No, no, my dear Emerson, I need no such verification; your memory is always accurate. But I am equally certain that this"— again I pointed—"is the mummy case brought to us last night."

"De conclusion is obvious, surely," piped Ramses. "De mummy case brought here last night, purportedly de one stolen from de lady, was not in fact de one stolen from—"

"I assure you, Ramses, that possibility had not escaped either of us," I replied with some asperity.

"De inevitable corollary," Ramses went on, "is dat—"

"Pray be silent for a moment, Ramses," Emerson begged, clutching his ambrosial locks with both hands. "Let me think. What with mummy cases whizzing in and out of my life like express trains... There were originally seven mummy cases in this room."

I murmured an encouraging "Quite right, Emerson," and fixed Ramses with a look that stilled the words hovering on his lips.

"Seven," Emerson repeated painfully. "Last night another mummy case was placed in this room. Eight. You didn't happen to notice, Peabody, how many—"

"I am afraid not, Emerson. It was dark and we were in a hurry."

"The baroness's mummy case was stolen," Emerson continued. "A mummy case believed to be that mummy case was handed over to us. You are certain that this"—he pointed— "was the mummy case in question. We must assume, then, that the mummy case we received was not the mummy case belonging to the baroness, but another mummy case, derived God knows whence."

"But we know whence," cried Ramses, unable to contain
himself any longer. "Papa is correct; we have here de original mummy case discovered by our men. De one returned to us was our own. A t'ief must have removed it from dis room earlier."

"A what?" I asked.

"A robber," said Ramses.

"Who replaced the bricks after he had stolen the mummy case from us. Yes," Emerson agreed. "It could have been done. The thief then carried the stolen mummy case out into the desert, where he abandoned it. That incompetent idiot de Morgan, who would not recognize his own mummy case if it walked up and bade him 'Bonjour,' assumed that the one found by his men was the one belonging to the baroness. Apparently that is what the thief did—but why the devil should he do it?"

This time I was determined that Ramses should not get ahead of me. "In the hope, which proved justified, that the search for the baroness's mummy case would be abandoned."

"Humph," said Emerson. "My question was purely rhetorical, Peabody. Had you not interrupted, I would have proposed that very solution. May I request that you all remain silent and allow me to work out this problem step by step in logical fashion?"

"Certainly, my dear Emerson."

"Certainly, Papa."

"Certainly, sir." John added in a bewildered voice, "I don't 'ave the faintest notion of what anyone is talking about, sir."

Emerson cleared his throat pontifically. "Very well. We will begin with the hypothesis that the thief stole one of our mummy cases in order to substitute it for the one belonging to the baroness. He went to the considerable trouble of replacing the bricks in the wall so the theft would not be noticed. Why then did he demolish the wall last night?"

He fixed Ramses with such an awful look that the child closed his mouth with an audible snap. Emerson continued, "Not to return the stolen mummy case. There are only seven here, the same number we had originally. Two possibilities suggest themselves. Either the thief wished to recover some
object he had concealed in the storeroom on the occasion when he removed our mummy case, or he wished to draw our attention to his activities."

He paused. Those of us in the audience remained respectfully silent. A look of childish pleasure spread over Emerson's face. "If any of you have alternative hypotheses to suggest, you may speak," he said graciously.

My abominable child beat me to the punch again. "Perhaps some second party, oder dan de original t'ief, wished to expose de villain's act of pilferage."

Emerson shook his head vehemently. "I refuse to introduce another unknown villain, Ramses. One is enough."

"I favor the first of your hypotheses, Emerson," I said. "It was necessary to find a hiding place for the baroness's mummy case. What better place than among others of the same? I believe the thief put her mummy case in the storage room and took one of ours. Last night he broke in again and removed the first mummy case."

"I have a feeling," said Emerson conversationally, "that if I hear the words 'mummy case' again, a blood vessel will burst in my brain. Peabody, your theory is perfectly reasonable, except for one small point. There is no reason why anyone with
an ounce of sense would steal the baroness's mum------property
in the first place, much less go through these fantastic convolutions with it."

We stared bemusedly at one another. John scratched his head. Finally Ramses said thoughtfully, "I can t'ink of several possibilities, Papa. But it is a capital mistake to t'eorize wit' insufficient data."

"Well put, Ramses," Emerson said approvingly.

"De statement is not original, Papa."

"Never mind. Let us forsake theories and take action. Peabody, I have come around to your way of thinking. Hamid is the only suspicious character hereabouts. Let us question Hamid."

But Hamid was not on the dig. He had not reported for work that morning, and all the men denied having seen him.

"What did I tell you?" I cried. "He has flown. Does not that prove his guilt?"

"It proves nothing except that he is not here," Emerson replied waspishly. "Perhaps he has accomplished his purpose, whatever the devil that might have been, and has departed. So much the better. I can get on with my work in peace."

"But, Emerson—"

Emerson rounded on me and wagged his finger under my nose. "Work, Peabody—work! Is the word familiar to you? I know you find our activities tedious; I know you yearn for pyramids and sneer at cemeteries—"

"Emerson, I never said—"

"You thought it. I saw you thinking it."

"I was not alone if I did."

Emerson threw his arm around my shoulders, careless of the men working nearby. A low murmur of amusement rose from them. "Right as always, Peabody. I find our present excavations boring too. I am taking out my bad humor on you."

"Couldn't we start work on the pyramids here, Emerson? They are poor things, but our own."

"You know my methods, Peabody. One thing at a time. I will not be distracted from duty by the siren call of—er—pyramids."

For the next few days it appeared that Emerson's hopes regarding Hamid were justified. There were no further attacks on the missionaries or on our property, and one evening, when I inadvertently used the phrase "mummy case," Emerson scarcely flinched. I let him enjoy his illusory sense of tranquillity, but I knew, with that intuitive intelligence upon which I have often been commended, that the peace could not last—that the calm was only a thin surface over a seething caldron of passions that must eventually erupt.

Our decision to allow Ramses his own excavation had been a success. He was gone all day, taking his noon meal with him, and always returned in time for tea. One evening he was late, however, and I was about to send someone out to look for him when I caught a glimpse of a small form scuttling with an odd crablike motion along the shaded cloister. He was carrying something, wrapped in his shirt. I knew the cloth enclosing the bundle was his shirt because he was not wearing the garment.

"Ramses!" I called.

Ramses ducked into his room, but promptly reappeared.

"How many times have I told you not to remove any of your outer garments without sufficient cause?" I inquired.

"Very many times, Mama."

"What have you got there?"

"Some t'ings I found when I was excavating, Mama."

"May I see them?"

"I would radder you did not, Mama, at present."

I was about to insist when Emerson, who had joined me, said softly, "A moment, Peabody."

He drew me aside. "Ramses wants to keep his discoveries for a surprise," he explained. "You wouldn't want to disappoint the dear little chap, would you?"

This was not a question I could answer fully, under the circumstances, so I remained silent. A fond smile spread across Emerson's face. "He has been collecting potsherds and his favorite bones, I expect. You must exclaim over them and admire them, Amelia, when we are invited to view the display."

"Naturally I will do my duty, Emerson. When did you ever know me to fail?" I turned back to Ramses, who stood waiting outside his room, and dismissed him with a gesture. He went in at once and closed the door.

Whatever the nature of Ramses' discoveries, they could not have been poorer than our own. We had found a small family burial ground dating from the Fourth or Fifth Dynasty, but the humble little tombs contained no funeral goods worthy of preserving, and the ground in that part of the site was so damp
the bones were of the consistency of thick mud. Even now I cannot recall that period without a pall of ennui settling over me.

Fortunately this miserable state of uneventfulness was not to last long. The first intimation of a new outbreak of violence was innocent enough—or so it seemed at the time. We were sitting in the parlor after our simple supper, Emerson and I. He was writing up his notes and I was fitting together my eleventh Roman amphora—a form of vessel I have never admired. Ramses was in his room, engaged in some mysterious endeavor; John was in his room trying to finish Leviticus. The lion club played at my feet, finishing off my house slippers. Since it had already eaten one, I decided it might as well have the other. Bastet lay on the table next to Emerson's papers, her eyes slitted and her rare purr echoing in the quiet room.

"I believe I must make a trip to Cairo soon," I remarked.

Emerson threw his pen down. "I knew this was coming. Peabody, I absolutely forbid you to prowl the bazaars looking for murderers. Everything is peaceful just now and I won't have you—"

"Emerson, I cannot imagine where you get such ideas. I need to shop, that is all. We have not a pair of house slippers among us, and my store of bismuth is getting low. All these people seem to suffer from stomach complaints."

"If you didn't deal it out so lavishly, you would not be running out of it."

Our amiable discussion was developing nicely when we were interrupted from a hail without. Since the breaking in at the storeroom, Abdullah had taken it upon himself to set a guard on the house. He or one of his sons slept near the door every night. I was touched by this gesture, all the more so because I knew Abdullah was not completely convinced that Emerson had got rid of all the evil spirits.

Hearing him call out, we both went to the door. Two forms were approaching. In the light of the torch Abdullah held high I  soon recognized  friends.  "It  is the reverend  and  Mr.

Wilberforce," I exclaimed. "What a surprise!"

"I am only surprised they haven't come before," Emerson grumbled. "It has been three or four days since we had callers; I was beginning to entertain the fond delusion we might be allowed to get on with our work in peace."

The presence of our visitors was soon explained. "We moored this morning at Dahshoor," the Reverend Sayce declared, "and spent the afternoon with de Morgan. Since we must be on our way again in the morning, we decided to ride over and call on you tonight."

"How very kind of you," I said, elbowing Emerson in the ribs to keep him from contradicting the statement. "Welcome to our humble quarters."

"Not so humble," said the American, with an approving glance at the cozy scene. "You have the true womanly knack, Mrs. Amelia, of making any abode seem homelike. I congratulate— good heavens!" He leaped backward, just in time to prevent the lion cub from seizing his foot. He was wearing elegant tassled gaiters, and I could hardly blame the young creature for being interested in this new form of fashion.

I seized the lion and tied its lead to a table leg. Mr. Wilberforce took a chair as far from it as possible, and the reverend said, "Can that be the lion belonging to the baroness? We heard it had been lost."

"Ramses found it," I explained. I do not believe in telling falsehoods unless it is absolutely necessary. The statement was true. There was no reason to explain where Ramses had found the lion.

The conversation turned to de Morgan's discoveries, and Emerson sat chewing his lip in silent aggravation. "There is no doubt," said the Reverend Sayce, "that the southern brick pyramid was built by King Amenemhet the Third of the Twelfth Dynasty. De Morgan has found a number of fine private tombs of that period. He has added volumes to our knowledge of the Middle Kingdom."