Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy's Curse (16 page)

Beaumont, who had been absent from the scene of the fight the night before, appeared to be mildly confused as to the obvious source of strain between the various parties, not to mention the rearrangement of the seating. But Nichols-Woodall leaned over and murmured something in his ear, whereupon Beaumont mouthed the word, “Oh,” and nodded his comprehension.

At the end of the communal meal, which was uncommonly silent, Leighton rose without a word and betook herself off to her tent. Phillips watched her go with a hangdog expression, then left the table himself and wandered away in the general direction of the artefact tent—which, apparently by design in the instance, had the opposite compass bearing—presumably to clean and piece together what had been discovered to that point. It not coincidentally, Watson considered, also had the effect of giving him something to take his mind off Leighton Whitesell.

“My,” Beaumont observed mildly. “My deepest thanks, Dr. Nichols-Woodall, for giving me the private
mise en garde
,
42
as it were. I very nearly put my foot in it most thoroughly with an imprudent question about what the deuce was going on.”

“I thought it best,” Nichols-Woodall concurred sanguinely. “Your tent is a distance away, and you probably did not even hear last night’s little… altercation. Young Leighton can still be a bit… capricious, as well as headstrong, especially at her age; and she appeared decidedly upset by the turn of events, all around, for good reason, I should think. In any case, I saw no purpose in increasing her mortification, so I headed off your questions, Beaumont, with a little word to the wise. She’s a bright one, with considerably more audacity, intelligence, and daring than other young women of her age; I must say, Willingham, you brought her up well, and I feel she may eventually prove to be your suffragist successor. But she is not yet even of age, and young ones can be flighty that way. Not that I can blame her. That was quite an unpleasant little tableau Phillips incited last night. And not a tad embarrassing for young Leighton and poor Holmes.”

“Indeed,” Whitesell rumbled; Holmes chose to remain quiet. “I cannot say Landers behaved as well as Leighton, if we get down to it, and he has several years on her. Holmes, my boy, I offer my sincerest apologies; I had no idea! Landers had made a handful of overtures toward Leighton some few months ago, but nothing seemed to come of it that I could tell; Leighton had indicated her disinterest to both of us, and I had quite forgotten.”

“It seems he has not,” Holmes offered, with dry wit and a wry smile. “It was neither your fault, nor Leigh’s, and you should not apologise for the matter, Professor. Phillips does not come from the more privileged classes, does he?”

“Not entirely,” Whitesell acknowledged. “His family is of what is being termed the lower middle class, I suppose. He has seen the streets. But he is a very intelligent lad, so I took him under my wing some while back. And he has not disappointed… until last night. I gave him a VERY stern lecture this morning… after Leigh was through with him. I expect most of the camp could hear it, for she intercepted him with Udail before they made it to my tent; poor Udail promptly fled, and Leighton scarcely let the boy get a word in edgewise. Then she ended her upbraiding by depositing Landers into my care. I suppose his ears are fairly burning by now, because I did not go easily upon him merely because Leighton had already castigated him.” He turned to Holmes. “He now knows his error, and has instructions to think upon his behaviour, and then deliver an honest and straightforward apology to you, Holmes. I expect he will be looking for a more private opportunity than the meal table, however.”

“Be that as it may, I also gather that, despite my best efforts in the business, Leigh is now more than a little uncomfortable around me,” Holmes observed, stifling a sigh.

“A tad, Holmes, a wee tad. But she still cares for your friendship, you know. She told me that much, after the debacle last night: that she was very glad to know you were her friend, no matter what. Seemed to think it was very important—to both of you.”

“It is,” Holmes admitted, a hint of gruffness to his manner.

“Then give her time, young man, give her time. She will come around.”

“Is her emotional state the best, do you think?” Watson wondered, concerned.

“What do you mean?” Whitesell asked, surprised by the question.

“Well, we do not need her falling into a melancholy over the matter,” the physician pointed out. “Not out here in the middle of the desert. Were we in London, where she would have friends and wholesome distractions readily available, I should not be as uneasy, but a thing like that could swiftly become quite serious in such a harsh environment as this. Should I pop round and ensure she is quite all right, perhaps?”

Whitesell was silent for a moment, studying Watson, chewing his lower lip in thought. He cut a sidelong glance at Holmes, questioning; Watson watched as Holmes swiftly manufactured and donned an unassuming, bland expression, and suddenly gathered what was in the wind—or at least, what was in Professor Whitesell’s thoughts.

“Oh! No, no,” he backpedalled, “I did not mean—”

“Now, now, doctor, I think that may be a capital idea,” Whitesell blustered, as Beaumont and Nichols-Woodall looked on in patent amusement. A puzzled Lord Trenthume simply blinked and listened. “Why don’t you do that? I think you might be just the man to… cheer her up, don’t you know?”

“Well,” Watson said, uncertain, “I can try, I suppose. That… wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested… I am a physician, so…”

“Yes, I understand. I’m not trying to put you on the spot, as it were. Look, Doctor,” Whitesell said, softening his voice and becoming serious, “I love my daughter. Plain and simple. She is the apple of my eye, as the saying is, and all I really have left of my dear wife. But right now, she is in some considerable pain over this situation, and there is not one damn thing I can do about it. It is, after all, the way the world works. And you ARE a physician, as well as a handsome young male, if you don’t mind my opinion. If you could see your way clear to keeping an eye on her, perhaps providing some company if that is not onerous to you, you would at the least have a father’s gratitude. There need be nothing beyond your natural inclinations, and I have Holmes’ word that you are a perfect gentleman.”

“Have no fear on that score, Professor,” Holmes averred. Watson felt his cheeks heat from the honour Holmes had just done him as he nodded, still dubious.

“I will see what I may,” he finally offered. “Certainly I will attempt to bring her out of her doldrums, and make her comfortable with Holmes once more. Beyond that, I cannot say. It is, at least in part, up to the lady.” He paused, then added, “I think I shall see if she will act as nurse again. Is the surgical tent finally set up, with all its equipment and accoutrements?”

“Yes, Udail said that was completed last night—just before the fight broke out,” Whitesell said with a sigh. “Good idea; it will be much more proper for a young lady than if the surgery was in your tent.”

“Well, and it will not be so crowded,” Watson supplied. “Holmes’ and my tent was getting a bit cramped, what with my medical equipment, and his scientific apparatus, spread all over.”

“Very true. It was always my intention, from the time I knew we would have your help, Doctor. We simply,” Whitesell briefly cut his eyes at Holmes, and Watson realised that he must know of Holmes’ suspicions, “misplaced some of the supplies in the journey over from England.”

“Off with you, then, Watson,” Holmes said, flashing him a brief, encouraging smile. Suddenly Watson found himself wondering how much of the previous night’s events had been anticipated by Holmes, and played in such fashion as to eliminate all other contenders for Leighton’s attention save Watson. It was, he considered, well within Holmes’ ability to extrapolate that far in advance, for he had seen him do similar feats; but had the detective actually done so? Watson suspected he would never know, of a certainty. “For we are finished here, and the work I plan to-day is not such that you can help me with, anyway. And Leigh rather needs you, I think.”

“What are you going to do, then?” Watson asked, dabbing his napkin to his mouth before laying it aside and starting to stand. Holmes pushed back his chair, as did Whitesell; the others took it as their signal to rise as well.

“I had thought,” Holmes began, the corner of his lip quirking in wry humour, “to have another look over the artefacts we have uncovered so far, to see if they might provide any more clews as to where this accursedly elusive tomb might be hidden. However, as Phillips appeared to head off in that direction also, it may be that I should make other plans! It would not do for a fight to break out amongst the antiquities!”

“No, no!” Nichols-Woodall laughed outright. “That would not be good at all! They would be smashed to tiny bits! Willingham, by way of a palliative, may I suggest that we join Holmes, and discuss our findings
en masse
?
43
Certainly our presence should serve as a damper on young Phillips’ unbridled passions, and may well prevent disaster befalling our hard-won treasures! What do you say, Thomas?” Nichols-Woodall addressed Beaumont in a friendly fashion. “Do you cast in your lot with my idea?”

“I think it is a good plan, Parker, indeed,” Beaumont averred with a smile.

“Yes, yes! A capital notion, Parker!” Whitesell agreed, shaking his head in gratification. “Let us betake ourselves to the artefact tables! Lord Trenthume, would you do us the honour? Dr. Watson, if you should want us, we will be there until at least lunchtime.”

“Very well,” Watson confirmed. “Professor, if Phillips is having trouble with that nose of his, tell him to come by the hospital during hours and I’ll set it for him, if needs be. I’ll make sure your daughter is busy elsewhere so that she need not deal with him.”

“I will, young man,” Whitesell agreed. “Off with you, now,” and Watson headed for the dwelling tents as the rest of the men made their way in the general direction of the dig site and the artefact tent just beside it.

* * *

When the men walked into the artefact tent, Phillips was not working. Instead, he was seated on one of the folding stools, leaning forward slightly, holding both hands to his badly swollen nose and grimacing in pain. “Is it broken?” Whitesell asked immediately.

“I’m not sure. I think it may be,” Phillips answered nasally, shooting Holmes a dirty look. “It isn’t quite the same shape it was before, and it sort of points off to one side now.”

“Don’t take a swing at a fellow who is more experienced, next time, and it won’t get broken,” Whitesell replied sharply, addressing more the hostile glance at Holmes than what Phillips had actually said. Phillips muttered something under his breath. “What’s that? Speak up, Mr. Phillips.”

“I said, you said that already, this morning,” Phillips grumbled.

“Or words to that effect, yes. As well as several more. Dr. Watson has offered to treat your nose and set it if necessary—”

“And by the look of it, I’d say it’s necessary,” Nichols-Woodall interjected.

“—If you will go by the infirmary during surgery hours,” Whitesell finished his statement.

“Will that make it feel less like an elephant has trodden on it?” Phillips wondered.

“Eventually,” Nichols-Woodall answered, ending the succinct statement with a sound suspiciously like a snort. Holmes assumed by his expression that the geologist was trying not to smirk, and concluded that the other man had had some experience in fights, himself. A quick assessment of Nichols-Woodall’s nose reinforced that impression: it was mildly crooked, canting off to the left a smidge, likely placed there by a wicked right cross, the consulting detective adjudged.

“Well, then when do the surgical hours start?” Phillips queried somewhat impatiently. Holmes pulled his pocket-watch and consulted it.

“In a little over an hour,” the detective answered. “In the meanwhile, if I might suggest, based on experience,” here he cut a sidelong glance at Whitesell, who looked satisfied, “if I were in your position, I should go lie down with an ice bag, assuming we have any ice in camp.”

“I’m afraid we do not,” Lord Trenthume noted with regret. “I had hoped to arrange it for just such a circumstance… well, for injuries, at any rate… as well as possibly for drinks, but no amount of money can purchase it, at this point. We are simply a little too far from the nearest source, and in too warm a climate, for it to survive shipment. Later in the season we may be able to obtain some, but not as yet.”

“Well, but still, Holmes has a point,” Beaumont decided. “Even without ice, lying down is certain to help matters. It will definitely reduce the swelling, especially if you use several pillows to elevate your head a little. A cool, moist compress will serve reasonably well in the stead of the ice, also. And this we can provide.”

“Very well,” Phillips conceded with a sigh. “I fear I am getting little work done in any case, for the deuced thing throbs like blazes, and I cannot concentrate for the life of me. With your leave, Professor?”

“By all means, son, go lie down and try to relax,” Whitesell said, gentling his tone, “and then go see Dr. Watson in an hour, and have him fix the thing.”

Phillips nodded and left,
en route
to his tent, and the camp cot within.

* * *

When Watson arrived at Leighton Whitesell’s tent, the door flap was open; Leighton sat at her little table inside, a book open in front of her, but she was not looking at it. Instead she stared into space, an incredibly sad expression on her face.

He cleared his throat loudly as he rapped against the central support pole, and she jumped, startled.

“Oh! Dr. Watson,” she said, glancing at the entrance and seeing him waiting. “I’m so sorry; I was wool-gathering. Were you waiting long? What on earth are you doing here?”

“No, I only just arrived. Your father sent me to see about you, Miss Whitesell. May I come in? Or perhaps you might wish to come out?”

“The flap is well open; that should satisfy the proprieties. Come in, whilst I fetch an extra chair from Da’s tent.”