The Hippopotamus Pool (33 page)

"Very eloquent, Professor."

Emerson's rigid arms relaxed. "Oh, curse it. I don't know why I bother. It is a wonder some collector hasn't walked off with these poor cadavers already. I must have a word with Carter about this."

Climbing back up the rough rubble-strewn stairs was even more difficult than the descent had been, with only a rope handrail to offer assistance. We stopped midway up to see the other peculiar mummy still remaining in the tomb—which Ramses of course insisted on inspecting. After stripping it of its wrappings and amulets, the ancient thieves had thrown it carelessly onto a wooden boat, where it had stuck fast (being still damp with the oils and unguents of anointing). At the sight of it Emerson exploded again.

"Chicken wire! Is that Maspero's notion of proper protection? Curse it . . ."

I will spare the Reader a repetition of his additional remarks.

Even the excellent picnic lunch Cyrus's servants produced did not relieve his feelings. He was still in a surly mood after we finished eating, and declined to join us in an inspection of Belzoni's tomb, as it is called after the name of its discoverer.

"I have seen it a dozen times. You don't need me; Walter and Ramses can tell you about the reliefs as well as I can. And Peabody, of course."

Since the tomb (that of King Sethos I, to be precise) is one of the most handsomely decorated of all, there were still a number of cursed tourists hanging about, but they did not mar the enjoyment of my companions. A thrill of affection ran through me as I beheld Evelyn, her face rapt, examining the beautifully painted scenes. Her first and only visit to Egypt had ended in marriage and persistent motherhood; it was all new to her and as fascinating as art can be to a true artist. Gertrude found enough goddesses to keep her happy, and Ramses lectured till he was hoarse.

When we came out into the sunlight again, everyone was ready for a rest and liquid refreshment. The air, particularly in deep tombs like Sethos's, is very dry. Comfortably seated in the shade, we finished the tea and lemon drink the servants had brought.

Most of the tourists had gone; purple shadows lengthened as the sun sank toward the cliffs. "Where's my old pal Emerson got to?" Cyrus asked.

"Deep down in a tomb, I expect," Walter replied with a smile. "He loses all track of time when he is absorbed in archaeology. We needn't wait for him if you are tired, Evelyn. He will find his way back when he is ready."

I rose and shook out my skirts. "The rest of you go on."

"If you wish to wait for the Professor, I will stay with you," said Sir Edward, gallant as always.

"I don't intend to wait. I know where he has gone, and I am going the same way. I will meet you back at the dahabeeyah. Thank you, Cyrus, for a delightful day."

Cyrus slapped his knee. "Gee whillikers, but I am a stupid old goat! I should have known he couldn't stay away from that tomb of his. See here, Mrs. Amelia, it's a long, rough hike from here. You can't go on foot."

"Emerson is on foot," I replied.

"You are going over the mountain path?" Sir Edward shook his head and smiled. "One day, Mrs. Emerson, I will learn not to be surprised at anything you attempt. I will accompany you, of course, if I cannot dissuade you. And I feel fairly sure I cannot."

He really had a very charming smile. Before I could assure him he was welcome, Ramses, already on his feet, said stiffly, "That is not necessary, sir. I will escort my mother."

I was anxious to be off, so I cut short the agitated discussion that followed. Everyone offered to go; I selected the ones I knew could keep up with me. "Ramses, Nefret and Sir Edward. Good day to the rest of you."

The view from the top of the cliff was glorious at that time of day, but we did not linger to enjoy it. As the sun sank lower, my uneasiness increased. We ought to have met Emerson returning before this. He would not have remained away so long without warning me of his intentions.

Instead of following the well-marked path that led to Deir el Bahri, I struck out to the north, following what I deemed to be the quickest if not easiest route. The track was in some places almost too rough for human feet, and had probably been made by goats. Since I was in something of a hurry, I accepted Sir Edward's hand in the more difficult sections. Ramses and Nefret followed, and I am sorry to say that I heard a good deal of bad language from the latter as she fought off Ramses's attempt to assist her in the same way. Some of the words were Arabic (learned, I did not doubt, from Ramses), and Sir Edward had trouble controlling his mouth. He did me the courtesy of pretending he had not heard, however.

I was sadly short of breath, with agitation as well as exertion, when I saw before me, encrimsoned by the sunset light, an unmoving and monolithic form. It was Emerson, sitting on a rock.

"Ah," he said, as we came panting up to him. "There you are, Peabody. I rather expected you would turn up before long, though I clung to the forlorn hope that you would have sense enough to go back with Vandergelt."

The reproaches that hovered on my lips, awaiting breath enough to pronounce them, were never voiced. I had seldom seen even Emerson in such a state of disarray. His hands were bleeding and his shirt was ripped half off him.

"Curse it, Emerson, what the devil have you been doing?" I gasped.

"Language, Peabody. Sit down and catch your breath."

"Excuse me, sir, but is it wise to remain here?" Sir Edward inquired. "You appear to have had some trouble."

"Trouble? Not in the least. I banged myself up a bit descending that ladder in too great haste. Unfortunately I was not hasty enough. They got away."

"Ladder?" I started to rise.

Emerson put his hand on my shoulder and held me in place. "You will see it soon enough, my dear, unless you decide to go round the long way. So much for your mysterious secret passages, eh? It is quite a well-constructed rope ladder, and it has probably been used several times—for one thing, to put the hippopotamus statue in the tomb."

"But you said there was no need to guard the upper entrance."

"Hmm, yes, well, it appears I was wrong. What I failed to take into account was the confounded religious element. During Ramadan even our men are tired and less alert by the end of the day. As soon as the sun goes down they begin eating and drinking and relaxing. The small sounds made by someone descending would be unheard or taken for natural noises."

Ramses returned from the edge of the descent. "They arranged it rather ingeniously, don't you think, Father? The supports are inconspicuous but sturdy; the ladder could be put in place and removed quickly."

I was amused to observe that Sir Edward, normally so cool and imperturbable, was beginning to show signs of perturbation. "Sir—with all respect— it is getting dark, and the return trip across the plateau will be difficult for the ladies—"

"What ladies?" Emerson grinned at me and put an affectionate arm around Nefret, who was sitting next to him on the other side. "But perhaps you are right, we ought to be getting back. Will you go first, Peabody?"

"If you will permit me, Father ..." Ramses was already on the ladder.

"Gallantry is not required, Ramses," said his father, with a laugh. "The thieves are long since departed, and there is no one below except our men. But go ahead. I left a candle burning at the entrance of the tomb, where the ladder ends. You might wait there for Nefret."

Again I demanded explanations, and while we waited for the childrento make the descent, Emerson condescended to give me a brief account. "It had occurred to me that perhaps I ought to have a look round up here, so I came this way, meaning to descend, you know, by one of the paths a little farther along. They had posted a lookout. He saw me coming; the first I knew of his presence was when he called out a warning. He was on the ladder and halfway down before I got here, and although I went after him immediately, I was just too late. The others must have rushed out of the tomb and gone pelting down the stairs; there were enough of them to burst through our guards and bolt. They knocked poor old Abdullah flat and cut Daoud up a bit."

"Are you certain they are all right?" I asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes. Except for being extremely embarrassed. I have been up and down several times, which accounts for my improper appearance. Now then, Peabody, off you go."

He assisted me onto the ladder and addressed Sir Edward. "I don't want to leave the ladder here. Unhook it and bring it with you."

Sir Edward must have voiced a mild objection or question; Emerson's answer, couched in his normal voice, was audible even though I was some feet down the ladder.

"Of course you cannot descend a ladder while you are carrying it! Go back the way you came or follow the path farther to the north and east, where the slope is not so steep.

"Really," he added, after he had joined me on the platform outside the tomb entrance, "so-called higher education in England has deteriorated even further than I had believed. Can you imagine a graduate of Oxford University making such an idiotic remark?"

"It will be a difficult trip in the dark, whichever way he goes," I said.

"He ought to know the paths, he was here last season with Northampton, wasn't he? Anyhow," Emerson went on, "you do not suppose I would leave you and Nefret alone with him."

"Hardly alone, Emerson. Really, you ... Oh, never mind. Did they do any damage? For I presume you have been in the tomb."

"Yes."

Night had fallen. There is almost no twilight in Egypt, only a sudden transformation from daylight to dark. Emerson removed the candle from its rocky setting. The flame illumined his grave, unsmiling countenance.

"They meant to break into the burial chamber tonight, Peabody. And they might have done it, too, if I had not startled them into flight."

"Yet they chose to face all our men instead of you." I squeezed his arm affectionately.

"They may have believed you were with me," Emerson said with a chuckle. "You and your parasol." But there was no humor in his voicewhen he continued. "The situation is more serious than I allowed myself to admit, Peabody. An attempt like this one, in broad daylight and in force, is uncharacteristic of the Gurnawis. Someone knows we are now within striking distance of the burial chamber, and he means to get there before we do. The next attempt may be more violent; one of the men, or one of us, could be seriously injured. It is against all my principles, but I see no help for it. We'll have to go straight for the sarcophagus and the queen's mummy."

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

I have Known Several Villains Who Were Perfect Gentlemen

Emerson's announcement, made that evening to our assembled family, aroused universal approbation. His arguments were irrefutable. The contents of the burial chamber, whatever they might be, must be removed to safekeeping before they inspired another attack on us or our loyal men.

We resembled a little group of conspirators as we drew close together round the table on the upper deck, the light of the single lamp casting eerie shadows across our tense faces. Emerson's first statement, even before he announced his intention, had been a warning that our plans must be kept secret.

"As far as is possible, at any rate," he added grudgingly. "If I had my way I would allow no one but ourselves and the men in that tomb. I don't see how I can keep Sir Edward out, though."

"Do you suspect him?" Evelyn asked.

"No." Emerson's eyeballs gleamed as he rolled them in my direction. I contented myself with a sniff, and Emerson went on, "I have no reason to suppose he is anything but what he claims to be, and if I let him go now, without a valid excuse, it would arouse suspicion and justifiable resentment. 1 shall caution him as I do you not to breathe a word of what we are doing to an outsider. That includes Vandergelt, Amelia. And your friend O'Connell."

"Fortunately Kevin is presently suffering from a touch of stomach trouble, so we won't have to worry about him for a while. But Cyrus—"

"No one!" Emerson's fist came down on the table. We all jumped and I caught the lamp as it tottered. "It may be that only the local talent is involved, but today's attempt was uncharacteristically bold. It suggests there is some unknown power directing operations."

"Riccetti," I said.

"Quite possibly. If he has informants and allies among the villagers, as he undoubtedly does, secrecy is essential."

"Am I to take it," said Ramses, "that David is one of those included in your prohibition?"

Emerson is not, by nature, an unjust man. He hesitated—but briefly— before he replied. "Particularly David."

To my surprise it was not Ramses who came to the boy's defense, nor even Nefret—though she bit her lip and directed a less than friendly look at her foster father. The quiet voice was that of Evelyn.

"I am sure he can be trusted completely, Radcliffe. I have had several long conversations with him. He is a dear lad, who deserves better of life than the misery he has experienced, and he is devoted to all of you."

Emerson's voice softened, as it always does when he speaks to his sister-in-law. "Evelyn, your good heart does you credit and I understand why at this particular time... er, hmph. Bear in mind that the boy has spent most of his life under the tutelage of a master thief and forger. Early impressions—"

"Don't patronize me, Radcliffe."

The reprimand was as startling as a slap in the face. Never had I heard Evelyn speak to anyone, much less Emerson, in that tone.

Emerson was the first to recover, and it is to his credit that he responded as he did. (Though I would have expected nothing less of him.) He laughed aloud and slapped his knee.

"Well done! I apologize, Evelyn, but I assure you I am not discriminating against David. Good Gad, Vandergelt is one of my oldest friends, and I trust him completely—but I don't mean to let him in on this either. I wish we could rid ourselves of that confounded Marmaduke woman."

"Ah," I exclaimed. "So you have come round to my belief that she is an adventuress and a spy!"

"No, Amelia, I have not. I believe she is a woolly-minded romantic from whom O'Connell could winkle the truth with a few florid compliments."

"You have the right of it," I admitted. "Do not concern yourself, my dear, I will think of a way to—"

"I shudder at the thought," said Emerson with considerable feeling.

"Leave it to me, Peabody. Does she know how to operate one of those typewriting machines?"

"Yes, I believe she does."

"Then I will put her to work transcribing the manuscript of my
History.
That should keep her busy, and away from the tomb."

"It certainly should," I agreed. "How long is the manuscript—six-hundred-odd pages? And your handwriting, my dear ... An excellent idea."

"So it is settled, then. We begin tomorrow."

"It will only take another day or two to finish with the scraps of painted plaster we retrieved from the entrance corridor," Walter said. "The majority of them are unfortunately too small to be of use, but I have found a portion of a cartouche that I believe will interest you a great deal, Radcliffe."

"It will have to wait, Walter. I need every pair of hands, especially yours." Walter looked pleased, and Emerson, in his bluff way, went on to spoil the compliment by adding, "You appear not to have forgotten
entirely
everything you knew about excavation techniques."

I yawned, and Emerson, always so considerate of me, said in a friendly manner, "Tired, are you, Peabody? Yes, it is time we were all in bed."

"You will want to be up at dawn, I suppose," I said. "One thing, Emerson—what about storage? The saloon is already full of trays and baskets of scraps, and I absolutely refuse to share my quarters with that atrocious mummy."

"We'll have to have it out, I suppose," Emerson admitted. "I had thought of storing it temporarily in the antechamber, but the stench of the thing is so vile it would poison the air. There are dozens of abandoned tombs nearby; we'll use some of them. And a separate one for our odorous friend."

I was the last to leave the deck. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw movement—only the darkest shadow of a shape—at the far end of the rail. It was as if something had hung there, like a giant bat, and then had noiselessly descended.

As I believe I have said, the upper deck was formed by the ceilings of the cabins below. The room under that particular section of the railing was the one occupied by Ramses and David.

I was not the only one to be up before daybreak next morning. Walter was in the saloon, shuffling his plaster scraps around in the light of a lamp. He looked up with a guilty start when I opened the door.

"Oh, it is you, Amelia. I thought I would just get in a few more minutes' work before breakfast. The cartouche I spoke of last night is one I never expected to find in that context. I believe it to be the name of—"

"Breakfast is being served," said Emerson, behind me. "Lock that tray in the cupboard, Walter, and come upstairs."

Waiting for the others to join us, Emerson and I sat in silence for a while, watching the sky brighten and the light creep slowly down the slopes of the western cliffs. Emerson let out a sigh.

"I have been having second thoughts about this, Peabody. Has it occurred to you—but of course it has!—that I may be doing precisely what our unknown opponent wants me to do?"

"It had of course occurred to me, Emerson. Yesterday's attempt was a reckless and chancy business, if they really intended to enter the burial chamber. Perhaps our enemy is becoming impatient. If we clear those stairs we will save
him
the trouble of doing the work."

"I dislike being goaded and manipulated," Emerson muttered.

"Well, of course you do, my dear. But I don't see what choice you have now."

The advent of Mahmud with breakfast ended the discussion. Ramses was the next to appear. He was wise enough to allow Emerson one cup of coffee before raising a subject he knew would annoy, and we were still discussing it when the others came.

"Ramses is in the right, Emerson," I said. "David had better come with us."

"I will keep him with me," Evelyn said firmly. "He will not observe what you are doing."

"Can you keep the Marmaduke woman out of my way too?" Emerson inquired humbly. "There wasn't time to head her off this morning, and I need to locate one of those confounded writing machines."

"Certainly," Evelyn said. "Leave it to me, Radcliffe."

I know I was not the only one to feel a thrill of anticipation ripple through me when we set off that morning. Even Emerson's eyes shone with greater luster. We archaeologists are superior to the common herd in our appreciation of knowledge for its own sake, but we are human after all; the thought of what might await us behind that sealed door would stir the feeblest imagination.

No thrill of anticipation rippled through the frame of poor Abdullah, who was waiting for us. Chagrin and shame lengthened his countenance, and I deduced, from the crestfallen looks of his men, that they had been lectured at length on their failure to perform their duties.

Emerson wasted no time in additional recriminations. (There is seldom any need for him to repeat a reprimand, since he makes his feelings clear at the outset.) After Evelyn had gone off with David, her hand on the boy's shoulder, Emerson drew his foreman aside and told him of our intentions.

Abdullah's face brightened at this evidence of confidence. He so forgot himself as to interrupt Emerson's admonitions about silence. "Our lips are sealed, Father of Curses. We will not fail you again."

"It was not your fault, Abdullah," I said, patting his arm.

"Yes, it was," said Emerson, dismissing the subject. He took out his watch. "Where are the others? 1 cannot wait for them. Send Sir Edward up as soon as he arrives, Evelyn, and keep that tedious woman out of the way. The rest of you come with me."

And off he went, up the stairs.

It was at my insistence that we stopped for luncheon. The air was thick with plaster dust and the bat guano stirred up by our movements; Walter's breathing had become uneven and even Sir Edward was showing signs of distress. I had, over her strenuous objections, sent Nefret down earlier.

She came running toward me when I descended the last steps. "Aunt Amelia, you look terrible."

"Do I? Then I had better tidy up a bit before we join the others."

We all made use of the buckets of water and towels, and then retired to the shelter. Knowing Emerson would refuse to return to the
Amelia
until nightfall, I had ordered picnic baskets, and we tucked into the food and especially the drink with gusto. It was interesting to see how the group divided. I joined Gertrude at the little table, the men distributed themselves on various rocks, and the children went to join David in his tomb. Evelyn had been with him; when she took her place at the table I saw she was holding a sketch pad. I asked to see what she had been doing, and she handed it to me with an odd little smile.

"Are you giving drawing lessons?" I asked, thumbing through the pages in growing amazement.

"Taking them, rather. What a talent the boy has, Amelia! He knows nothing of the conventions of Western art, of course, but he is quick to learn—and he is giving me a new understanding of Egyptian art. I believe he could help me with the copying."

"That will have to wait until we finish clearing the antechamber," I said, with a warning glance at Gertrude.

She looked not quite the thing that morning; her eyes were shadowed and she seemed abstracted. Catching my eye, she cleared her throat and said hesitantly, "I have been thinking, Mrs. Emerson, about the kind invitation of Mr. Vandergelt. I would like to accept it, but I don't feel it would be proper."

"Why not?" I inquired, selecting a second sandwich.

"To be the only woman in the house?"

"Such old-fashioned notions are passe, Gertrude. We are in the twentieth century now. Surely you don't suspect Mr. Vandergelt of improper intentions."

"Oh, no! Only ... I would feel so much more comfortable if Mrs. Walter Emerson were there too. Or Nefret?"

Emerson had finished eating. He came up to us in time to hear the last exchange.

"You
will be perfectly safe with Vandergelt, Miss Marmaduke," he said. "Do you happen to know where I can put my hands on a typewriting machine?"

"Now that I come to think of it," I said, "Cyrus probably has one. You know how these Americans are about machinery."

"Excellent!" Emerson gave me an approving smile. "That's settled, then. You can pack your traps this afternoon, Miss Marmaduke, and be in the Castle by evening. I will run by later with my manuscript and tell you what I want done. You may as well go now. I will have one of the men take you over to Luxor. Finished, Peabody? Come along, come along."