The Mummy Case (21 page)

Ramses ran for the door. I sank into a chair. It was the first time—though certainly not the last—that I began to have serious doubts as to my capability of carrying out the task I had so unthinkingly assumed. I have dealt with murderers, thieves and brigands of all kinds; but I suspected Ramses might be too much even for me.

These doubts soon passed, naturally, as I attacked the immediate problems with my habitual efficiency. After lecturing Selim and painting iodine on his scratches—his face resembled that of a Red Indian ready for the warpath when I finished—I set one of the men to building a cage, another to the task of constructing a heavy wooden screen for Ramses' window, and a third to the village to purchase a goat of the proper gender and lactiferous condition. Emerson protested the decimation of his work force, but not with his usual vehemence; and when I
escorted Ramses into the parlor and sat him down on a footstool, Emerson took a chair next to mine with an expression of unusual gravity on his face.

I confess my own heart was lightened when Ramses declared, with a wholly convincing show of candor, that he knew nothing of the theft of the baroness's antiquities.

"I would not take dat rubbishy mummy case," he exclaimed. "I am deeply hurt, Mama, dat you should t'irik me capable of such ignorance."

I exchanged glances with Emerson. The relieved twinkle in his fine blue eyes brought a reluctant answering smile to my lips. "You observe he is not offended that we questioned his honesty, only his intelligence," I said.

"Stealing is wrong," said Ramses virtuously. "It says so in de Scripture."

"Accept my apologies for doubting you, my son," said Emerson. "You know, you might have pointed out that you lacked the strength to handle the object in question, even with Selim's help."

"Oh, dat would not have been a sufficient defense, Papa. Dere are met'ods of dealing wit' dat difficulty." And his face took on such a look of portentous calculation, I felt a shudder run through me.

Emerson said hastily, "Never mind, Ramses. Did you observe any suspicious activities at the dahabeeyah last night? Other than your own, that is."

Ramses had nothing useful to offer on this subject. His visit to the baroness's boat had taken place shortly after midnight, and he was reasonably certain that at that time the break-in had not taken place. The watchman had been sound asleep and snoring. Upon being questioned further, Ramses admitted that one of the crewmen had awakened. "I had de misfortune of treading upon his hand." A finger to the lips and a coin dropped into the abused hand had kept the grinning witness quiet.

"And I know which one of the men it was," growled Emerson.

"He was laughing behind his hand the whole time I was questioning him about burglars. Curse it, Ramses__"

"I am very hungry, Mama," Ramses remarked. "May I go and see if de cook has luncheon ready?"

I acquiesced, for I wished to talk to Emerson alone. "It appears that the break-in took place after midnight," I began.

"A logical conclusion, Peabody. But, if you will forgive my mentioning it, the fact is not particularly useful."

"I never said it was, Emerson."

Emerson leaned back and crossed his legs. "I suppose you have fixed on Hamid as the burglar?"

"Are not the circumstances suspicious, Emerson? Hamid was

on the scene when Abd el Atti met his death___Oh, you need

not wriggle your eyebrows at me in that supercilious fashion, you know what I mean—we can't prove he was in the shop that night, but he was in Cairo, and he was involved in some shady negotiation with Abd el Atti. A few days later he turns up here, with some specious excuse about looking for work— and the baroness is robbed."

"Weak," said Emerson judiciously. "Very weak, Peabody. But knowing you, I am surprised you have not already put your suspect under arrest."

"I have had time to reconsider my first impulse, Emerson. What good would it do to apprehend the man? As yet we have no physical evidence connecting him to either crime, and naturally he will deny everything. The most sensible course is to ignore him, and watch his every movement. Sooner or later he will do something criminal, and we will catch him in the act."

"Watch him, Peabody? Follow him, you mean? If you think I am going to spend the night squatting behind a palm tree watching Hamid snore, you are sadly mistaken."

"That is a difficulty. You need your sleep, Emerson, and so do I."

"Sleep," said Emerson, "is not the only nocturnal activity of which I do not mean to be deprived."

"We might take it in turn," I mused. "In a turban and robe I could pass for a man—"

"The activity to which I referred requires that both of us be present, Peabody."

"My dear Emerson—"

"My darling Peabody—"

But at that point we were interrupted by Ramses, returning from the kitchen with the roasted chicken that had been prepared for us, and I had to mention several excellent reasons why it should be fed to us instead of to the lion.

Emerson's objections to our keeping a watch on Hamid, though frivolous, had merit. I therefore considered alternatives. The most obvious alternative was John, and when we returned to the dig after luncheon I was pleased to observe that he had carried out his responsibilities with skill and dedication. I had given him some instruction in the use of the camera; although we would have to wait until the plates were developed to be sure he had carried out the procedure correctly, his description of the method he had followed seemed correct. I took several more photographs to be on the safe side, and then our most skilled workmen were set to work clearing the graves. As the fragile and pitiful remains were carried carefully to the house I congratulated myself on our luck in having found such an admirable place. Never before, on any expedition, had I had enough storage space. Thanks to the old monks, I could now classify our finds in a proper methodical manner—pottery in one room, Roman mummies in another, and so on.

Hamid was working even more lethargically than usual. Naturally he would be tired if he had helped transport a weighty object the night before. Where the devil had he put the thing? I wondered. The mummy case was over seven feet long. Hamid
was a stranger in the village, he had no house of his own. But there were hiding places aplenty in the desert—abandoned tombs, sunken pits, and the sand itself. Or the mummy case might have been loaded onto a small boat and carried away by water. There were many answers to the question of where it might have been hidden, but none to the most difficult question: Why take it in the first place?

Finally I reached a decision. "John," I said. "I have a task for you—one requiring unusual intelligence and devotion."

The young man drew himself up to his full height. "Anything, madam."

"Thank you, John. I felt sure I could count on you. I suspect one of our workers is a vicious criminal. During the day he will be under my watchful eye, but at night I cannot watch him. I want you to be my eyes. Find out where he is living. Take up a position nearby. If he leaves during the night, follow him. Do not let your presence be known, only observe what he does and report back to me. Can you do this?"

John scratched his head. "Well, madam, I will certainly try. But I see certain difficulties."

"Such as?"

"Won't he see me if I am standing outside 'is 'ouse when he comes out?"

"Don't be absurd, John. He will not see you because you will be in hiding."

"Where, madam?"

"Where? Well—er—there must be a tree or a wall or something of that sort nearby. Use your imagination, John."

"Yes, madam," John said doubtfully.

"What other difficulties do you anticipate?"

"Supposing someone sees me behind the tree and asks what I'm doing there?"

"If you are sufficiently well hidden, you will not be seen. Good heavens, John, have you no resources?"

"I don't think so, madam. But I will do me best, which is all a man can do. Which of the chaps is it?"

I started to point, then thought better of it. "That one. Third from the end—no, curse it, second__He keeps changing position."

"You don't mean Brother 'amid, madam?"

"Brother Hamid? Yes, John, I believe I do mean Brother Hamid. He is really a convert, then?"

"Yes, madam, and I know where he lives, for he sleeps in a storeroom behind the mission house. But, madam, I'm sure you are mistaken about 'im being a criminal. Brother Ezekiel has quite taken to 'im, and Brother Ezekiel could not take to a criminal, madam."

"Brother Ezekiel is no more immune than other men to the blandishments of a hypocrite." John gave me a blank stare, so I elaborated. "Godly persons are more vulnerable than most to the machinations of the ungodly."

"I don't understand all them long words, madam, but I think I take your meaning," John replied. "Brother Ezekiel is too trusting."

"That is a quality of saints, John," I said. "Martyrdom is often the result of excessive gullibility."

Whether John comprehended this I cannot say, but he appeared to be convinced. No doubt he had also realized that spying on Hamid would bring him closer to Charity. Squaring his shoulders, he exclaimed, "I will do just what you say, madam. Shall I 'ave a disguise, do you think?"

"That is an excellent suggestion, John. I am happy to see that you are entering into the spirit of the thing. I will borrow a robe and turban from Abdullah; he is the only one of the men who is anything near your height."

John went off to assist Emerson and I remained where I was, keeping a close but unobtrusive watch over Hamid. After a while Abdullah came up to me. "What is the man doing, Sitt, that you watch him so closely?" he asked.

"What man, Abdullah? You are mistaken. I am not watching him."

"Oh." Delicately Abdullah scratched his bearded chin. "I was
in error. I thought your keen eyes were fixed upon the foreigner—the man from Manawat."

"No, not at all__What do you know about him, Abdullah?"

The reis replied promptly, "He has not worked with his hands, Sitt Hakim. They are sore and bleeding from the pick."

"How does he get on with the other men?"

"He has no friends among them. Those of the village who remain faithful to the priest are angry with the ones who have gone over to the Americans. But he does not even talk to the other new 'Brotestants.' Shall I dismiss him, Sitt? There are others who would like the work."

"No, don't do that. Only keep a close watch on him." I lowered my voice. "I have reason to think Hamid is a criminal, Abdullah; perhaps a murderer."

"Oh, Sitt." Abdullah clasped his hands. "Not again, honored Sitt! We come to excavate, to work; I beg you, Sitt, do not do it again."

"What do you mean, Abdullah?"

"I feared it would happen," the reis muttered, passing a shaking hand over his lofty brow. "A village of unbelievers, hateful to Allah; a curse on the very house where we dwell—"

"But we have lifted the curse, Abdullah."

"No, Sitt, no. The restless spirits of the dead are still there. Daoud saw one of them only last night."

I had been expecting something of the sort—or if I had not expected it, I was not surprised that it had occurred. As Emerson says, most men are superstitious, but Egyptians have more reason to believe in ghosts than do men of other nations. Is it any wonder the descendants of the pharaohs feel the presence of gods who were worshiped for over three thousand years? Add to them the pantheons of Christianity and Islam, and you have a formidable phalanx of mixed demons.

I was about to explain this to Abdullah when we were interrupted by a hail from Emerson. "Peabody! Oh, Peee-body! Come here, will you?"

"I will talk with you later," I said to Abdullah. "Don't yield
to fear, my friend; you know the Father of Curses is a match for any evil spirit."

"Hmmm," said Abdullah.

We had moved the scene of our operations again that afternoon. As Emerson put it (rather unfortunately, in my opinion) we had enough moldy Christian bones to last us. What we were doing, in archaeological terms, was making a series of trial trenches across the area in order to establish the general nature of the remains. Critical persons, unacquainted with the methods of the profession, have described this as poking around in the hope of finding something interesting, but of course that is not the case.

I found Emerson standing atop a ridge of rock staring down at something below. John was with him. "Ah, Peabody," said my husband. "Just have a look at this, will you?"

Taking the hand he offered, I stepped up onto the ridge. At first glance there was nothing to justify his interest. Half buried in the sand, half exposed by the picks of the workers, was a wrapped mummy. The intricacy of the bandaging indicated that it was another Ptolemaic or Roman mummy, of which we already had a sufficiency.

"Oh dear," I said sympathetically. "Another cursed Roman cemetery."

"I do not think so. We are still on the edge of the Christian cemetery; two other burials of that nature have turned up."

John cleared his throat. "Sir. I have been wanting to speak to you about that. These 'ere pore Christians—"

"Not now, John," Emerson said irritably.

"But, sir, it ain't right to dig them up as if they was 'eathens. If we was in England—"

"We are not in England," Emerson replied. "Well, Peabody?"

"It is curious," I agreed. "One would expect such a carefully wrapped mummy to possess a coffin or a sarcophagus."

"Precisely, my dear Peabody."

"Was that how it was found?"

"You see it," Emerson replied, "just as the men found it—a scant two feet below the surface."

"These intrusions do sometimes occur, Emerson. Do you want me to take a photograph?"

Emerson stroked his chin and then replied, "I think not, Peabody. I will make a note of its location and we will see what turns up as the work progresses."

"Sir," John said. "These 'ere Christians—"

"Hold your tongue, John, and hand me that brush."

"It is almost time for tea, Emerson," I said. "Will you come?"

"Bah," said Emerson.

Taking this for acquiescence, I made my way back to the house. Ramses was not in his room. The lion cub ran to greet me when I opened the door, and as I tickled it under its chin I noticed it had eaten Ramses' house slippers and reduced his nightshirt to shreds. Restoring it to the cage, over its piteous objections, I returned to the parlor and put the kettle on.