The Mummy Case (3 page)

Having made this pronouncement, he vanished into the corridor that led to the library.

"Ha," I exclaimed. "Now you know, Evelyn—"

"I know." Her arm stole round my waist. "I will never forget the day you restored me to life when I fainted in the Roman Forum. Your husband cannot spare you to nurse me, Amelia, and I assure you, there is no need. I am past the point where ... That is, the dangerous period has..."

Evelyn is absurdly modest about these things. Since I consider motherhood a natural and interesting event, I see no reason for reticence. I said briskly, "Yes, the first three months were, for you, the period of risk. I conclude then that you will bear the child in December or January. Speaking of children..."

"Yes, of course. You will be eager to see Ramses."

She spoke in a hesitating manner, avoiding my eyes. I said coolly, "Has something happened to him?"

"No, no, of course not. At least... The truth is, he is missing."

Before I could pursue my inquiries, Emerson came bursting into the hallway where we stood. "Missing!" he bellowed. "Pea-body—Ramses has disappeared! He has not been seen since breakfast. Curse it, why are you standing there? We must search for him immediately."

I caught hold of a marble pillar and managed to resist Emerson's efforts to drag me toward the door.

"Calm yourself, Emerson. I have no doubt a search is underway. You can do nothing that is not already being done. In fact, you would probably lose your way, and then everyone would have to look for you. It is not unheard of for Ramses to take himself off for long periods of time; he will return when he is ready."

The last part of this calm and reasonable speech was lost on Emerson. Finding himself unable to budge me, he released his hold and rushed out the door, leaving it open.

"There is no cause for concern," Evelyn assured me. "As you said, Ramses has done this before."

"Ra-a-amses!" Emerson's voice is notable for its carrying quality. "Papa is here, Ramses—where are you? Ram-ses..."

I said to Evelyn, "I believe I could fancy a cup of tea."

Tea is regarded, in these islands and elsewhere, as a restorative. It was in this light that Evelyn offered it, as she continued to reassure me as to Ramses' safety. I was glad of the tea, for the long train ride had made me thirsty. If I had wanted a restorative, I would have asked for whiskey and soda.

As I could have predicted, it was only a few minutes later that Emerson returned, with Ramses cradled in his arms. I studied the touching tableau with disfavor. Ramses was, as usual, incredibly dirty, and Emerson's suit had just been sponged and pressed.

Trotting behind them came the large brindled cat we had brought from Egypt on our last expedition but one. She was Ramses' constant companion, but unfortunately few of the admirable habits of the feline species had rubbed off onto her young owner. She threw herself down on the carpet and began cleaning herself. Ramses freed himself from his father's hold and rushed at me without so much as wiping his feet.

His small and sticky person was redolent of dog, chocolate, straw (used straw, from the stables) and stagnant water. Having embraced me, and left liberal traces of his presence on the skirt of my frock, he stood back and smiled. "Good afternoon, Mama."

Ramses has a rather prepossessing smile. He is not otherwise a handsome child. His features are too large for his juvenile countenance, especially his nose, which promises to be as commanding as that of his ancient Egyptian namesake. His chin, which is almost as oversized in proportion to the rest of his face, has the same cleft as his father's. I must confess that Ramses' chin softens me. I returned his smile. "Where have you been, you naughty boy?"

"Letting de animals out of de traps," Ramses replied. "I t'ought your train was not coming till later."

"What is this?" I frowned. "You are lisping again, Ramses. I told you—"

"It is not a lisp, Amelia." Evelyn hastened to defend the miscreant, who had turned to the tea table and was devouring sandwiches. "He pronounced his s's perfectly."

"Some other speech defect, then," I replied. "He does it deliberately. He knows how it annoys me."

Leaning against his father's knee, Ramses stuffed an entire watercress sandwich into his mouth and regarded me enigmatically. I would have continued the lecture but for the arrival of Walter, breathless and perspiring. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the boy.

"So there you are, you young rascal. How could you wander off when you knew your mama and papa would be here?"

"I t'ought..." Ramses glanced at me. Slowly and deliberately he repeated, "I t'ought de train would be later dan was de case. You must swear out a warrant against Will Baker, Uncle Walter. He is setting traps again. It was necessary for me to free de unfortunate captives dis afternoon."

"Indeed? I will see to it at once," said Walter.

"Good Gad," I exclaimed loudly. Walter had once spanked Ramses (for tearing pages out of his dictionary), and now he too had succumbed to the imperious dictates of the miniature tyrant.

"Language, Amelia, language," Emerson exclaimed. "Remember that young, innocent, impressionable ears are listening."

At my suggestion Ramses retired to bathe and change. When he returned after a short interval he was accompanied by his cousins. It would have been difficult to deduce the relationship. Ramses' cheeks of tan and mop of curly black hair resembled the coloring of residents of the eastern Mediterranean regions, while his cousins had inherited their mother's fair hair and the sweet regularity of countenance of both parents. They are handsome children, especially Emerson's namesake, young Radcliffe. Raddie, as we called him, was then nine years of age, but looked older. (A few months of Ramses' companionship has that effect on sensitive individuals.) The twins, Johnny and Willy, appeared to have suffered less, perhaps because there were two of them to share the tempestuous effect of Ramses' personality. They greeted us with identical gap-toothed smiles
and shook hands like little gentlemen. Then Ramses came forward with the fourth and (as yet) youngest of Evelyn's children—a dear little cherub of four, with golden curls and wide blue eyes. The curls were somewhat disheveled and the eyes were bulging, since Ramses had her firmly about the neck. Thrusting her at me, he announced, "Here is 'Melia, Mama."

I freed the unoffending infant from his stranglehold. "I know my namesake well, Ramses. Give Aunt Amelia, a kiss, my dear."

The child obeyed with the grace all Evelyn's offspring possess, but when I suggested she sit beside me she shook her head shyly. "T'ank you, Auntie, but if I may I will sit wit' Ramses."

I sighed as I beheld the look she turned on my son. I have seen the same expression on the face of a mouse about to be devoured by a cobra.

Evelyn fussed over the children, stuffing them with cakes and encouraging them to chatter about their activities; but I joined in the discussion between the men, which had to do with our plans for the autumn campaign.

"You won't be returning to Thebes, then?" Walter asked.

This was news to me, and I was about to say so when Emerson exclaimed in exasperation, "Curse you, Walter, it was to be a surprise for Amelia."

"I don't like surprises," I replied. "Not in matters concerning our work, at any rate."

"You will like this one, my dear Peabody. Guess where we are to excavate this winter."

The beloved name halted the reproof hovering on my lips. Its use goes back to the early days of our acquaintance, when Emerson used my surname in an attempt to annoy me. Now hallowed by tender memories, it is a symbol of our uniquely satisfying relationship. Emerson prefers me to use his last name for the same touching reason.

So I said, humoring him, "I cannot possibly guess, my dear Emerson. There are dozens of sites in Egypt I am dying to dig up."

"But what do you yearn for most? What is your Egyptological passion, hitherto unsatisfied? What is it you crave?"

"Oh, Emerson!" I clasped my hands. In my enthusiasm I overlooked the fact that I was holding a tomato sandwich. Wiping the fragments from my hands, I went on in mounting rapture, "Pyramids! Have you found us a pyramid?"

"Not one, but five," Emerson replied, his sapphire orbs reflecting my delight. "Dahshoor, Peabody—the pyramid field of Dahshoor—that is where I mean to dig. I intended it as a treat for you, my dear."

"You mean to dig," I repeated, my first enthusiasm fading. "Do you have the firman for Dahshoor?"

"You know I never apply to the Department of Antiquities beforehand, my love. If certain other archaeologists learned where I wanted to excavate they would also apply, out of pure spite. I don't mention names, but you know whom I mean."

I waved this unwarranted slur upon Mr. Petrie aside. "But, Emerson, M. de Morgan dug at Dahshoor last spring. As head of the Department of Antiquities he has first choice; what makes you suppose he will yield the site to you?"

"I understand that M. de Morgan is more reasonable than his predecessor," said Walter, the peacemaker. "Grebaut was an unfortunate choice for the position."

"Grebaut was an idiot," Emerson agreed. "But he never interfered with ME."

"He was terrified of you," I exclaimed. "I recall at least one occasion upon which you threatened to murder him. De Morgan may not be so timid."

"I cannot imagine where you get such ideas," Emerson said in mild surprise. "I am a particularly even-tempered man, and to suggest that I would threaten the Director General of the Department of Antiquities with physical violence—even if he was the most consummate fool in the entire universe—really, Amelia, you astonish me."

"Never mind," said Walter, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Let us hope there will be no violence of any kind this season. Especially murder!"

"I certainly hope not," said Emerson. "These distractions interfere with one's work. Amelia suffers from the delusion, derived I know not whence, that she has talents as a criminal investigator—"

"I, at least, have cause to thank her for those talents," said my dear Evelyn quietly. "You cannot blame Amelia, Radcliffe; I was the unwitting cause of your first encounter with crime."

"And," Walter added, "on the second occasion you were the guilty party, Radcliffe—taking on the direction of an expedition plagued with mysterious disappearances and ancient curses."

"She tricked me into it," Emerson grumbled, glancing at me.

"I don't know what you are complaining about," I retorted. "It was a most interesting experience, and we made some valuable discoveries that season in the Valley of the Kings."

"But you were wrong about de identification of de tomb," said Ramses, turning to his father. "I am of de opinion dat Tutankhamon's sepulcher is yet to be discovered."

Seeing that an argument was about to ensue—for Emerson brooks criticism of his Egyptological expertise from no one, not even his son—Walter hastened to change the subject.

"Radcliffe, have you heard anything more about the recent flood of illegal antiquities? Rumor has it that some remarkably fine objects have appeared on the market, including jewelry. Can it be that the tomb robbers of Thebes have found another cache of royal mummies?"

"Your uncle is referring to the cave at Deir el Bahri," Emerson explained to Ramses. "It contained mummies of royal persons hidden by devout priests after the original tombs had been robbed."

"Tank you, Papa, but I am fully acquainted wit' de details of dat remarkable discovery. De cache was found by de tomb robbers of Gurneh near Thebes, who marketed de objects found on de mummies, enabling de den Head of de Antiquities
Department, M. Maspero, to track dem down and locate de cleft in de cliffs where de—"

"Enough, Ramses," I said.

"Hmph," said Emerson. "To answer your question, Walter— it is possible that the objects you refer to come from such a collection of royal mummies. However, from what I have heard, they range widely in date; the most remarkable is a Twelfth Dynasty pectoral ornament in gold, lapis lazuli and turquoise, with the cartouche of Senusret the Second. It seems to me more likely that a new and more efficient gang of tomb robbers has taken up the trade, plundering a variety of sites. What vultures these wretches are! If I could lay my hands on them—"

"You have just now declared you will not play detective," said Walter with a smile. "No murders for Amelia and no burglaries for you, Radcliffe. Only an innocent excavation. Don't forget you promised to look out for papyri—demotic papyri, if you please. I need more examples of that form of the language if I am to succeed with my dictionary."

"And I," said Ramses, feeding the last of the sandwiches to the cat, "wish to dig up dead people. Human remains are de indicators of de racial affiliations of de ancient Egyptians. Furdermore, I feel a useful study might be made of techniques of mummification down de ages."

Emerson bent a tender look upon his son and heir. "Very well, Ramses; Papa will find you all the dead bodies you want."

The voyage from Brindisi to Alexandria was without incident. (I do not consider the halting of the ship, at Emerson's frenzied insistence, as truly an incident in Ramses' career; as I told Emerson at the time, there was almost no possibility that the boy could have fallen overboard. Indeed he was soon found, in the hold, examining the cargo—for reasons which I did not care then, or at a later time, to inquire into.)