The Mummy Case (28 page)

The sound of heavy breathing and running footsteps made us both start. Abdullah knew Emerson's habits as well as I; he
prudently got behind me, and I was able to prevent Emerson from hurling himself at the throat of—as he believed—my abductor. When the situation was explained, Emerson shook himself like a large dog. "I wish you wouldn't do this to me, Peabody," he complained. "When I reached out for you and found you gone I feared the worst."

He had paused only long enough to assume his trousers. His broad chest heaved with the speed of his running and his tumbled locks curled about his brow. With an effort I conquered my emotions and recounted the cause of my departure.

"Hmmm," said Emerson, studying the dying coals. "They have an ominous shape, do they not?"

"Less so now than before. But it cannot have been a human body, Emerson. Flesh and bone would not be so completely consumed."

"Quite right, Peabody." Emerson knelt and reached out a hand. "Ouch," he exclaimed, putting his fingers to his mouth.

"Be careful, my dear Emerson."

"Immediate action is imperative, Peabody. The object is almost entirely reduced to ash. A few more moments..." He succeeded in snatching up a small fragment, scarcely two inches across. It crumbled even more as he tossed it from hand to hand, but he had seen enough.

"I fancy we have found the missing mummy case, Peabody."

"Are you certain?"

"There are traces of brown varnish here. I suppose it could be one of ours—"

"No one has approached our house tonight," Abdullah assured him.

"Then it must be the one belonging to the baroness," I said.

"Not necessarily," Emerson said morosely. "There must be four or five thousand of the cursed things that have not yet passed through our hands."

"Pray do not yield to despair, Emerson," I advised. "Or to levity—if that was your intention. I have no doubt this is the
mummy case we have been seeking. What a pity there is so little left of it."

"It is not surprising it should burn so readily, since it was composed of varnish and papier-mache, both highly flammable."

"But, Emerson, why would a thief go to so much trouble to obtain this article, only to destroy it?"

He had no answer. We gazed at one another in silent surmise, while the sun rose slowly in the east.

I was pleased with the appearance of our little party when we set out for the funeral service. John's scrubbed cheeks shone like polished apples, and Ramses had an air of deceptive innocence in his little Eton jacket and short trousers. Emerson snorted when I suggested he put on a cravat, but Emerson can never appear less than magnificent; and I fancy I looked my usual respectable self, though the fact that we planned to proceed directly from the village to Dahshoor necessitated a less formal costume than I would ordinarily have assumed when attending religious services.

Emerson flatly refused to enter the chapel. We left him sitting on his favorite block of stone, back ramrod-straight, hands on knees in the very pose of an Egyptian pharaoh enthroned.

The service was less prolonged than I expected, possibly because Brother Ezekiel's command of Arabic was not extensive, and possibly because his new-founded doubts as to Hamid's character curtailed the fervor of his eulogy. A few lugubrious hymns were sung—John and Ramses joined in, to disastrous effect—and then half a dozen stalwart converts shouldered the rough wooden coffin and the company straggled out after them.

A considerable crowd had assembled outside the chapel. At first I thought they had come to watch, or even protest, the ceremonies of the intruders. Then I saw that all were laughing or smiling, and I realized that they were gathered around my husband, who was chatting with all the graciousness of his
ancient model holding court. Emerson has, I regret to say, an extensive store of Arabic jokes, many of them extremely vulgar, which he keeps for masculine company. Catching sight of me, he broke off in the middle of a word and rose to his feet.

Trailed by the spectators, we followed the coffin through the grove of palm trees to the edge of the cultivation. I assumed Brother Ezekiel had marked the spot for a cemetery, but there was no symbol of that purpose except for the grimly significant hole in the ground. No fence enclosed the area, no religious symbol marked it. It was a desolate and forbidding final resting place; only too appropriate, I feared, for the wretched man whose bones were to lie there.

His Bible open in his hands, Brother Ezekiel stood at the head of the grave with David beside him and Charity the customary two paces to the rear. John began edging toward her. I poked him with my parasol and shook my head, frowning. Ordinarily I am sympathetic to romantic feelings, but this was not the time or the place.

The somber message of Isaiah sounded even more dismal in Ezekiel's guttural Arabic. "All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it."

Ezekiel did not proceed to the comfort of the following verses, with their assurance of immortality in the grace of God. Instead he closed the Book with a slam and began to speak extemporaneously.

I was anxious to be on our way, so I paid little attention to his words until I felt the muscles of Emerson's arm stiffen under my hand. Then I realized that Ezekiel's eulogy had turned into a tirade, stumbling but passionate—a bitter denunciation of the Coptic Church, its beliefs and its local representative.

A murmur of anger arose, like the first wind of a storm through dry grasses. David turned to look with surprise and alarm at his associate. Emerson cleared his throat loudly. "I would like to say a few words," he called out.

His voice stilled the mutter of the crowd and Brother Ezekiel broke off. Before he could draw breath, Emerson launched into a flowery speech. He was not hypocrite enough to praise Hamid, of whom he said only that he had worked for us, so that we felt the need to acknowledge his passing. He went on to quote the Koran and the Bible on the sin of murder, and proclaimed his intention of bringing the killer to justice. Then he dismissed the audience with the blessing of God, Allah, Jehovah, Christ and Mohammed—which pretty well covered all possibilities.

The listeners slowly dispersed, with the exception of the few who had been designated as grave diggers. They began shoveling sand into the pit and Emerson confronted the angry preacher. "Are you out of your mind?" he demanded. "Are you trying to start a small war here?"

"I spoke the truth as I saw it," Ezekiel said.

Emerson dismissed him with a look of scorn. "Try to contain your friend's candor," he said to David, "or you will find yourself burning with your church."

Without waiting for a reply, he strode away. I had to run to catch him up. "Where are you going, Emerson? We left the donkeys at the chapel."

"To see the priest. Word of the affair has already reached him, I fear, but we will do what we can to mitigate its effect."

The priest refused to see us. According to the hard-faced disciple who responded to our call, he was absorbed in prayer and could not be disturbed. We turned reluctantly away. "I don't like this, Peabody," Emerson said gravely.

"You don't believe we are in danger, Emerson?"

"We? Danger?" Emerson laughed. "He would hardly venture to threaten us, my dear Peabody. But the lunatics at the mission are another story, and Ezekiel seems bent on starting trouble."

"The priest was courteous enough to me the other day. At least," I added, thinking ruefully of my ruined chapeau, "he meant to be courteous."

"Ah, but that was before we began entertaining his rival to tea and encouraging our servant to patronize the other establishment. Never mind, Peabody, there is no cause for alarm at present; I will call on the priest another day."

John returned to the house and Ramses, Emerson and I set out for Dahshoor. As we rode along the edge of the fields, the first of the Dahshoor monuments we encountered was the Black Pyramid. Ramses, who had been silent up to that time, began to chatter about Egyptian verb forms, and Emerson, whose strength lay in excavation rather than in philology, was at something of an embarrassment. We drew near the base of the pyramid and he stopped, with an exclamation of surprise. "What the devil, Peabody—someone has been digging here."

"Well, of course, Emerson."

"I am not referring to de Morgan's incompetent probing, Peabody. These are fresh excavations."

I saw nothing unusual, but Emerson's expert eye cannot be gainsaid. I acknowledged as much, adding casually, "Perhaps some of the villagers from Menyat Dahshoor are doing a little illicit digging."

"Practically under de Morgan's eye? Well, but he would not notice if they carried the pyramid itself away."

"He is a very forceful individual," said Ramses in his piping voice. "All de Arabs are afraid of him."

Emerson, who had been studying the tumbled terrain with a thoughtful frown, replied to his son, "They are afraid of the mudir and his bullwhip, Ramses. English gentlemen do not employ such threats—nor are they necessary. You must win the respect of your subordinates by treating them with absolute fairness. Of course it helps to have an inherently dominant personality and a character both strong and just, commanding and yet tolerant...."

We found the workers sprawled in the shade taking their midday rest. De Morgan was not there. We were informed that he was at the southern stone pyramid, with his guest, who had expressed an interest in seeing that structure. So we turned our steeds in that direction, and found de Morgan at luncheon. At the sight of the table, which was covered with a linen cloth
and furnished with china and crystal wineglasses, Emerson let out a sound of disgust. I paid no heed; the near proximity of the noble monument in all its glory induced a rapture that overcame all else.

Emerson immediately began berating de Morgan for taking so much time from his work. "You leave the men unsupervised," he declared. "They have every opportunity to make off with their finds."

"But,
mon vieux,"
said de Morgan, twirling his mustache, "you are also away from the scene of your labors, non?"

"We were attending a funeral," Emerson said. "I presume you heard of the mysterious death of one of our men?"

"I confess," de Morgan said superciliously, "that I take little interest in the affairs of the natives."

"He was not one of the local people," I said. "We have reason to believe he was a criminal of the deepest dye—a member of the gang of antiquities thieves."

"Criminals? Thieves?" De Morgan smiled. "You insist upon your interesting fictions, madame."

"Hardly fictions, monsieur. We have learned that the murdered man was in reality the son of Abd el Atti." I turned abruptly to Prince Kalenischeff. "You knew him, did you not?"

But the sinister Russian was not to be caught so easily. His arched brows lifted infinitesimally. "Abd el Atti? The name is familiar, but... Was he by chance an antiquities dealer?"

"Was, your highness; your use of the past tense is correct. Abd el Atti is no more."

"Ah yes, it comes back to me now. I believe I heard of his death when I was last in Cairo."

"He was murdered!"

"Indeed?" The prince fixed his monocle more firmly in his eyesocket. "I fear I share M. de Morgan's disinterest in the affairs of the natives."

I realized it would be more difficult than I had thought to trick Kalenischeff into a damaging admission. He was an accomplished liar. Also, I found myself increasingly distracted as
the conversation went on. I soon realized what the problem was. Once again detective fever warred with my passion for archaeology. It was not hard to keep the latter within reasonable bounds when the distraction consisted of decadent Roman mummies and scraps of pottery; but in the shadow of a pyramid—not any pyramid, but one of the most majestic giants in all of Egypt—other interests were subdued, as the brilliance of the sun dims the light of a lamp. My breathing became quick and shallow, my face burned. When finally de Morgan patted his lips daintily with his napkin and offered us coffee I said, as casually as I could, "Thank you, monsieur, but I believe I will go into the pyramid instead."

"Into the pyramid?" De Morgan paused in the act of rising, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Madame, you cannot be serious."

"Mrs. Emerson never jokes about pyramids," said my husband.

"Certainly not," I agreed.

"But, madame... The passages are dark, dirty, hot__"

"They are open, I believe? Perring and Vyse explored them over sixty years ago."

"Yes, certainly, but...There are bats, madame."

"Bats do not bodder my mudder," said Ramses.

"Pardon?" said de Morgan, quite at a loss.

"Bats do not bother me," I translated. "Nor do any of the other difficulties you mentioned."

"If you are determined, madame, I will of course send one of my men along with a torch," de Morgan said doubtfully. "Professor—you do not object?"

Emerson folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I never object to any of Mrs. Emerson's schemes. It would be a waste of time and energy."

De Morgan said, "Humph," in almost Emerson's tone. "Very well, madame, if you insist. You may take your son with you as guide," he added, with a sidelong glance at Ramses. "He is
quite familiar with the interior of that particular pyramid."

Emerson swallowed the wrong way and burst into a fit of coughing. I looked at Ramses, who looked back at me with a face as enigmatic as that of the great Sphinx. "You have explored the Bent Pyramid, Ramses?" I asked, in a very quiet voice.

"But of a certainty, madame," said de Morgan. "My men were some time searching for the little... fellow. Fortunately one of them saw him enter, otherwise we might not have found him in time to save him."

"As I endeavored to explain, monsieur, I was not in need of rescue," said Ramses. "I could have retraced my steps at any time, and had every intention of doing so once my research was completed."

I felt certain this statement was correct. Ramses had an uncanny sense of direction and as many lives as a cat is reputed to have—though by now, I imagined, he had used up several of them.