The Mummy Case (25 page)

"How nice," I said.

Conversation languished thereafter. Not even the reverend had the courage to ask Emerson how his work was progressing. Finally Mr. Wilberforce said, "To tell the truth, my friends, we had a particular reason for calling. We have been a trifle concerned for your safety."

Emerson looked offended. "Good Gad, Wilberforce, what do you mean? I am perfectly capable of protecting myself and my family."

"But a number of alarming events have occurred in your neighborhood," Wilberforce said. "We heard of the burglary of the baroness's dahabeeyah. The day before we left Cairo we met Mr. David Cabot, who told us of the attack on the mission."

"Hardly an attack," Emerson said. "Some malcontent had set a fire behind the chapel; but even if that edifice had been totally destroyed, which was unlikely, no harm would have come to anyone."

"Still, it is an ominous sign," Sayce said. "And Mr. Cabot admitted there is growing animosity among the villagers."

"Have you met Brother Ezekiel?" Emerson inquired.

Wilberforce laughed. "I take your point, Professor. If I were inclined toward arson, his is the first establishment I would set a match to."

"It is not a joking matter, Wilberforce," the reverend said gravely. "I have no sympathy for the creed or the practices of the Brothers of Jerusalem, but I would not like to see any of them injured. Besides, they give all Christian missionaries a bad name with their tactless behavior."

"I think you overestimate the danger, gentlemen," Emerson replied. "I am keeping an eye on the situation, and I can assure you no one will dare make a hostile move while I am on the scene." His large white teeth snapped together as he concluded. Sayce shook his head but said no more.

Shortly thereafter the two gentlemen rose to depart, claiming they must make an early start. Not until they were at the door, hats in hand, did Sayce clear his throat and remark, "There is one other little matter I meant to discuss with you, Mrs. Emerson.

It almost slipped my mind; such a trivial thing__That bit of
papyrus you showed me—do you still have it?"

"Yes," I said.

"Might I prevail upon you to part with it? I have been considering the part of the text I managed to translate, and I believe it may hold some small interest to a student of biblical history."

"To be honest, I would not be able to put my hand on it just at the moment," I admitted. "I have not had occasion to look at it since we left Cairo."

"But you do have it?" The reverend's tone was oddly intense.

"Yes, to be sure. It is somewhere about."

"I would not want to trouble you—"

"Then don't," said Emerson, who had been watching the little man curiously. "You don't expect Mrs. Emerson to turn out all her boxes and bags at this hour of the night, I suppose."

"Certainly not. I only thought—"

"Look in again on your way upriver," Emerson said, like a genial host suggesting a call, "when you are in the neighborhood." "We will try to locate the scrap and then consider your request."

And with this the reverend had to be content, though he did not look pleased.

We stood in the door watching our visitors ride away. Stars spangled the heavens in glorious abandon and the desert lay silver under the moon. Emerson's arm stole around my waist. "Peabody."

"Yes, my dear Emerson?"

"I am a selfish brute, Peabody."

"My dear Emerson!"

Emerson drew me inside and closed the door. "Though thwarted in your heart's desire, you defend me nobly. When you told de Morgan the other day that you doted on Roman mummies, I could hardly contain my emotion."

"It is kind of you to say so, Emerson. And now, if you will excuse me, I had better finish my amphora."

"Damn the amphora," Emerson cried. "No more Roman pots
or mummies, Peabody. Tomorrow we begin on our pyramids. To be sure, they are not much in the way of pyramids, but they will be an improvement over what we have been doing."

"Emerson, do you mean it?"

"It is only your due, my dear Peabody. Spite and selfishness alone kept me from beginning on them long ago. You deserve pyramids, and pyramids you will have!"

Emotion choked me. I could only sigh and gaze at him with the wholehearted admiration his affectionate gesture deserved. His eyes sparkling like sapphires, Emerson put out his hand and extinguished the lamp.

Emerson's demonstrations of marital affection are of so tempestuous a nature that as a rule we succumb quickly to slumber when they are concluded. On this occasion, however, I found myself unaccountably wakeful long after my spouse's placid breathing testified to the depths of his repose. Starlight glimmered at the open window, and the cool night breeze caressed my face. Far off in the stilly night the lonely howl of a jackal rose like the lament of a wandering spirit.

But hark—closer at hand though scarcely louder—another sound! I sat up, pushing my hair back from my face. It came again; a soft scraping, a scarcely audible thud—and then—oh heavens!—a cacophony of screams scarcely human in their intensity. They were not human. They were the cries of a lion.

I sprang from bed. Despite my agitation a sense of triumph filled me. For once a nocturnal disturbance had found me awake and ready; for once no cursed netting interfered with my prompt response to the call of danger. I snatched my parasol and ran to the door. Emerson was awake and swearing. "Your trousers, Emerson," I shouted. "Pray do not forget your trousers."

Since there was only one lion on the premises, it was not
difficult for me to deduce whence the sound came. Ramses' room was next to ours. On this occasion I did not knock.

The room was dark. The light from the window was cut off by a writhing form that filled the entire aperture. Without delaying an instant, I began beating it with my parasol. Unfortunately the blows fell upon the wrong end of the intruder, whose head and shoulders were already out of the window. Stimulated, no doubt, by the thrashing, it redoubled its efforts and made good its escape. I would have followed, but at that moment an excruciating pain shot through my left ankle and I lost my balance, falling heavily to the floor.

The household was now aroused. Shouts and cries of alarm came from all directions. Emerson was the first to arrive on the scene. Rushing headlong into the room, he tripped over my recumbent form and crushed the breath out of me.

Next to appear was John, a lamp in one hand and a stout stick in the other. I would have commended him for thinking of the lamp if I had had the breath to speak, for by its light he was able to recognize us just in time to arrest the blow of the cudgel which he had aimed at Emerson's anatomy. The lion cub continued to gnaw at my foot. It had identified me, I believe, after the first impulsive attack, and was now merely playing, but its teeth were extremely sharp.

Emerson struggled to his feet. "Ramses!" he shouted. "Ramses, where are you?"

It struck me then that I had not heard from Ramses, which was unusual. His cot was a mass of tumbled blankets, but the boy himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Ra-a-amses!" Emerson shrieked, his face purpling.

"I am under de cot," said a faint voice.

Sure enough, he was. Emerson yanked him out and unrolled the sheet in which he had been wrapped so tightly that it had the effect of a straitjacket. Crooning endearments, he pressed the boy to his breast. "Speak to me, Ramses. Are you hurt? What has been done to you? Ramses, my son..."

Having heard Ramses speak, I had no apprehension concerning his safety. I therefore returned the lion to its cage before saying calmly, "Emerson, he cannot talk because you are squeezing the breath out of him. Release your grip, I beg you."

"Tank you, Mama," said Ramses breathlessly. "Between de sheet, which I only now succeeded in getting off from over my mout', and Papa's embrace, which t'ough it is appreciated for de sentiment dat prompted it, neverdeless—"

"Good Gad, Ramses," I exclaimed. "For once will you give over your rhetorical orotundities and get to the point? What happened?"

"I can only guess as to de origin of de difficulty, since I was soundly sleeping," said Ramses. "But I presume a person removed de screen and entered by way of de window. I did not awaken until he—or she, for I was not able to determine de gender of de intruder—was wrapping me in de sheet. In my attempt to free myself I fell off de cot and somehow, I cannot tell how, found myself beneat' dat object of furniture."

Being somewhat short of breath, he had to pause at this point, and I demanded, "How did the lion cub get out of its cage?"

Ramses looked at the cage. In the manner of all small creatures the cub had rolled itself into a furry ball and dropped off to sleep.

"Apparently I neglected to close de door of de cage," said Ramses.

"And very fortunate it was, too," said Emerson. "I shudder to think what would have happened if the noble beast had not warned us you were in danger."

"It could have roused us just as effectively
in
the cage as
out
of it," I said. "The only person it seems to have attacked is me; and if it had not done so I might have succeeded in apprehending the burglar."

Father and son looked at me, and then at one another. "These women!" they seemed to remark, in silent unanimity. "They are always complaining about something."

Next morning at breakfast I reminded Emerson of his promise to give me a pyramid. He looked at me reproachfully. "I do not need to be reminded, Amelia. An Emerson never breaks his word. But we can't begin today. I need to do a preliminary survey of the surrounding area and close down our excavations at the cemetery."

"Oh, quite, my dear Emerson. But please don't bring me any more bones. The last lot was frightfully brittle. I set them in a stiff jelly to remove the salt, but I am running short of suitable containers."

"We have not the proper facilities to deal with bones," Emerson admitted. "To expose them without being able to preserve them would be a violation of my principles of excavation."

"Brother Ezekiel will be pleased you have given up the cemetery," I said, helping Emerson to marmalade.

"I only hope he won't think I was influenced by his outrageous demands." Emerson looked sheepish. "I went on with the cemeteries longer than I ought to have done only because he told me to stop."

"Since it will be several days before we can begin on the pyramids, I may as well make my trip to Cairo at once."

"Go away, now?" Emerson cried. "After the murderous attack on our son last night?"

"I must go, Emerson. The lion has eaten every pair of slippers we own. There is no question of leaving Ramses unprotected; I can go and come in the same day. Besides, I don't believe an assault on Ramses was intended. The intruder was after something—was, in short, a burglar, not a murderer."

"After something? In Ramses' room?"

"He may have mistaken the window. Or used it as a means
of reaching the storage rooms, which are windowless, or the parlor, whose outer door was guarded by Abdullah."

"And a fine help Abdullah was," Emerson grunted. "He must have been dead asleep or he would not have been so late in arriving on the scene. Well, well, if you are determined to go, you will go—but I entertain some doubts as to your real motive. Slippers, indeed! Don't deny it, Amelia—you are still on the trail of your imaginary Master Criminal."

"We had better devote some attention to criminals, master or otherwise; they are giving us their full attention. How many more of these burglarious episodes must we endure?"

Emerson shrugged. "Do as you like, Amelia. You will in any case. Only try not to be assaulted, kidnapped, or murdered, if you can possibly do so."

Somewhat to my surprise, Ramses refused to accompany me. (The invitation was proffered by his father, not by me.)

"So long as you are going, Mama," he said, "will you bring me back a Coptic dictionary?"

"I don't know that there is such a thing, Ramses."

"Herr Steindorff has just published a
Koptische Grammatik mit Chrestomathie,
Wdrterverzeichnis und Literatur. Should that work be unobtainable, dere is de elementary Coptic grammar and glossary in Arabic of Al-Bakurah al-shakiyyah, or de Vocabularium Coptico-Latinum of Gustav Parthey—"

"I will see what I can do," I said, unable to bear any more multilingual titles.

"Tank you, Mama."

"What do you want with a Coptic dictionary?" Emerson asked.

"Dere are a few words on de fragment of papyrus Mama found dat continue to elude me."

"Good heavens, the Coptic papyrus," I exclaimed. "I keep forgetting about it. Mr. Sayce was asking about it only last night—"

"He shan't have it," Emerson declared.

"Don't be spiteful, Emerson. I wonder what I did with the other scrap I found the night Abd el Atti was killed."

"Anodder fragment, Mama?" Ramses asked.

"It appeared to be from the same manuscript, but it was much smaller."

Ramses' face became taut with excitement. "I would like to have it, Mama."

"I don't remember where I put it, Ramses."