Evelyn leaned over him. "I won't leave you, Lucas. Wake up, I implore you. Speak to us."
"Take my hand. Don't let me wander away… I am lost without you…"
This banal exchange continued for some time, with Lucas's weak voice pleading and Evelyn reassuring him. I shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. I suspected that Lucas was now fully conscious. He was certainly not delirious in the ordinary sense of the word. Only congential stupidity could have produced such inane dialogue. Finally Lucas got to the point. His eyes were still closed.
"Don't leave me," he moaned. "Never leave me, my love, my hope. Promise you will never leave me."
Evelyn was bending so close that her unbound hair brushed his cheek. Her face was transformed by pity, and I rather hated to disillusion her, but I was not sure what she might promise in the heat of her innocent enthusiasm. If she made a promise, she would keep it. And I was determined that matters should proceed according to the plan I had conceived. So I said briskly, "He is coming around now, Evelyn. Are you going to promise to marry him, or shall we try the smelling salts first?"
Evelyn sat back on her heels. Her face was flushed. Lucas opened his eyes.
"Evelyn," he said slowly- but in his normal, deep tones, not the moaning whisper he had been using. "It is really you? I dreamed. God preserve me from any more such dreams!"
"Thank God," Evelyn said sincerely. "How do you feel, Lucas? We were so frightened for you."
"A little weak; otherwise, quite all right. It was your voice that brought me back, Evelyn; I seemed to be disembodied, lost and alone in a dark without a single spark of light. Then I heard you arrive and followed it as I would follow a beacon."
"I am glad I could help you, Lucas."
"You saved my life. Henceforth it is yours."
Evelyn shook her head shyly. She was trying to free her hand; and after a moment Lucas let it go.
"Enough of this," I interposed. "I am not so much interested in your dreams, Lucas, as I am in what produced them. What happened? I saw you stumble and fall, but I could swear the creature did not throw any missile."
"Nothing struck me," Lucas answered. "Nothing physical- You found no bruise, no mark, I suppose?"
He glanced down at his bared chest. Blushing still more deeply, Evelyn got to her feet and retreated from the bed.
"There was no mark I could see," I replied. "What did you feel?"
"Impossible to describe it! I can only imagine that a man struck by a bolt of lightning might have a similar sensation. First a shocking thrill, electrical in intensity; then utter weakness and unconsciousness. I felt myself falling, but did not feel my body strike the deck."
"Splendid," I said sarcastically. "We now have a creature with the power to hurl thunderbolts. Emerson will be delighted to hear it"
"Emerson's opinions are of no interest to me," Lucas said.
* * *
I slept soundly for what remained of the night. I believe Evelyn did not sleep at all. When I awoke it was to see the exquisite pink flush of dawn staining the sky, and Evelyn silhouetted against it. She was standing at the window; she was fully dressed, in a businesslike serge skirt and blouse. The moment I moved, she spoke.
"I am going to camp," she announced firmly. "You need not come, Amelia; I will be back soon, I will hurry. I hope to persuade Mr. Emerson to bring his brother here, and to set sail at once for Luxor. But if they will not come, then- then I think we should go. I know you will not want to leave, Amelia; I have seen how interested you are in- in archaeology. But I think Lucas will go, if I ask him; and I shall leave, with him, if you want to remain here."
The sight of her pale, resolute face checked the remonstrance that had risen to my lips. I saw that I must speak with careful consideration. The girl believed the awful idea that had come to her the previous night! It was both pitiful and amusing to note that she had no qualms about burdening Lucas with her deadly presence, as she thought it, when it came to a choice between endangering Lucas or Walter.
"Well," I said, getting out of bed, "you will not go without breakfast, I hope. It would be silly to faint, from inanition, in the middle of the desert."
Evelyn unwillingly consented to partake of breakfast. As she restlessly paced the upper deck, I sent a servant to summon Lucas. It was easy to see how the events of the night had affected the crew. Young Habib, our smiling waiter, was not smiling that morning; and the usual cheerful babble of voices from the lower deck was not to be heard.
Lucas joined us while we were drinking our tea. He looked perfectly fit, and said he felt the same. Evelyn immediately told him of her plan. Lucas was not fool enough to fail to understand her agitation. His eyebrows climbed alarmingly as she spoke. In case he should miss the point I kicked him under the table. And when he turned to me indignantly, I semaphored warning as well as I could. He took the hint.
"My dearest," he said gently, "if you wish to leave this place, you shall leave. I told you that your slightest wish was my command. But I must make one small reservation. You can ask me for my life, but not for my honor as a gentleman and an Englishman! You cannot ask me to abandon our friends. No, do not speak; I will order the crew to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice, and to carry you and Miss Amelia to Luxor, or wherever you wish to go. But I will remain. You would not respect me if I fled now."
Evelyn sat in silence, her head bowed. I decided to intervene. I could hardly take exception to Lucas's sentiments but he managed to create an atmosphere of sticky sentimentality that disgusted me.
"I have no intention of leaving unless the Emersons join us," I said firmly. "And I will deal with my own crew, if you please, Lucas. You may give yours whatever orders you like."
"I will," Lucas replied huffily.
And he went off to do so, while I summoned Reis Hassan and made another effort to break through the language barrier. I had thought of asking Lucas for the loan of his dragoman as interpreter; but what I had seen of that shifty-eyed personage did not impress me, and if Emerson had not been able to induce Hassan to speak openly, I thought no one could.
Hassan managed to convey one concept unequivocally. He kept repeating the word "go," and pointing upstream.
"Emerson?" I asked, and gestured toward the camp.
Hassan nodded vigorously. We were all to go. Today.
That was one Arabic word I understood, although the word for "tomorrow" is even more commonly used. I repeated it now.
Hassan's face fell. Then he gave the queer Arab shrug.
"Tomorrow," he said soberly. "In "shallah."
I knew that word too. It means, "God willing."
10
AFTER BREAKFAST we set out. The sun was well up; the sands shone palely gold, and the glare, even at that early hour, was hard on the eyes. There was little conversation during the walk. Evelyn had not spoken at all since she made her declaration; I was worried about her, and- which is not usual for me- uncertain as how I might best relieve her strange fears. Not that I blamed her for being distracted; most girls of her protected station in life would have been prostrate after the experiences she had undergone.
The first person to greet us was none other than Walter. He wore a sling, to support the injured arm, but otherwise he seemed well enough, and I was delighted to see him on his feet. He came to meet us, not quite running, and grasped my hand. But he looked at Evelyn.
"You cannot conceive how relieved I am to see you," he exclaimed. "I was furious with Radcliffe when he told me you had gone."
"I don't know why you should have been worried," I replied, returning his hearty handclasp. "It was you we worried about. How do you feel? And where is your brother?"
"You won't believe it," Walter said, smiling. "Guess."
"I don't need to guess," I replied. "Emerson has taken advantage of my absence to continue his excavations. He is totally without conscience! I suppose he has made another discovery. What is it? Another fragment of painting?"
Walter's eyes were wide with s
urprise.
"Miss Amelia, you astound me! You seem to read minds. How did you know?"
"I know your brother very well," I replied angrily. "He is capable of any stupidity where his precious antiquities are concerned. At such a time as this, to waste his time and energy… Where is he? I want to speak to him."
"The pavement is not far from the other one that was destroyed," Walter replied. "But- "
"But me no buts," I said. "The rest of you return to camp. I will fetch Emerson."
I set off without another word, not waiting to see whether they obeyed me. By the time I found Emerson I had worked myself up into quite a state of anger. He was squatting on the ground, his tan clothing and dusty helmet blending so well with the hue of the sand that I did not distinguish his form until I was almost upon him. He was so preoccupied that he failed to hear my approach. I struck him, not lightly, on the shoulder with my parasol.
"Oh," he said, glancing at me. "So it's you, Peabody. Of course. Who else would greet a man by beating him over the head?"
I squatted down beside him. This posture, so difficult at first, had become easier. My knees no longer cracked when I knelt.
He had cleared a patch of pavement some three feet square. I saw the blue undersurface which denoted water, and upon it three exquisitely shaped lotus flowers, with green leaves framing the pure-white petals.
"So this is the explanation of your plot," I remarked. "Sending me off with Evelyn in order to distract the Mummy, so that you could work in peace. Thank you, Emerson, for your concern! You are the most despicable, selfish… That is a great waste of time, you know, scooping at the sand with your bare hands. You will never clear the pavement that way. The sand trickles down as fast as you pull it away."
Emerson grinned unpleasantly at me over his shoulder.
"Tsk, tsk, Peabody, you are losing track of what you were saying. I am despicable, selfish-"
"Aren't you even curious?" I demanded angrily. "Don't you want to know what happened last night?"
"I know what happened." Emerson sat back on his haunches. "I went to the boat just before dawn this morning and had a talk with Hassan."
Now that I looked at him, I realized he appeared weary. There were dark circles under his eyes, and new lines around the firm mouth. I was momentarily deflated by this, and by his calm statement. But only momentarily.
"You did, did you? And what do you make of it all?"
"Why, matters transpired as I expected. The Mummy appeared, and was duly routed by you- "
"By Lucas," I interrupted.
"His lordship does not appear to have been particularly useful. His collapse threw the crew into a complete panic. Even Reis Hassan- who is far from being a coward, I assure you- is afraid. I trust his lordship is fully recovered mis morning from what Hassan described as a personally delivered curse?"
"I don't know what was wrong with him," I admitted. "If he were not such an intrepid fellow, I would suspect he simply fainted."
"Ha," said Emerson.
"Jeer as much as you like, you cannot deny the man's courage. He is no coward."
Emerson shrugged and began to scoop away more sand.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" I asked. "You have had one painting destroyed; uncover this, and it will meet the same fate. Its only safety now lies in obscurity."
"Perhaps its survival is not my chief concern," Emerson replied, still scooping. "We must have some lure for our mysterious visitor; better to lose this than Miss Evelyn."
I studied him in silence for several minutes.
"I cannot believe you mean that," I said finally.
"No, I am sure you have the lowest possible opinion of me and all my works. It is true, nevertheless."
There was a new note in his voice, one I had not heard before. Anger he had displayed, contempt, disgust; but never such weary bitterness. I felt peculiarly affected.
"I do not have a low opinion of you," I said- mumbled, rather.
Emerson turned.
"What did you say?"
We presented a ridiculous picture. Half kneeling, half squatting, Emerson was leaning forward to peer into my face. His hands rested on the ground, and his posture rather suggested that of an inquisitive orangutan. My own position, squatting on my heels with my skirts bunched up around me, was no less ludicrous. I was not conscious of absurdity or incongruity, however, I was only conscious of his eyes, blue and glittering as sapphires, holding my gaze with a strange intensity. Their look was too much to endure; my eyes fell, and my face felt uncomfortably warm.
And then the sound of a voice shattered the spell. Looking up, I saw Walter coming toward us. Emerson sat back.
"Radcliffe," Walter began, "what do you suppose has- "
He stopped speaking and looked from one of us to the other. "Is something wrong? Have I interrupted-"
"Nothing," Emerson said coldly. "You have not interrupted. What is it, Walter? You appear agitated."
"Agitated? I am, indeed! And so will you be, when you hear what transpired last night."
"I know what transpired," Emerson said, in the same cool voice.
I looked at him from under my lashes. His face was as impassive as one of the stone pharaohs in the Boulaq Museum. I decided I must have imagined the fleeting look of passionate inquiry. I was tired, after a sleepless night, and subject to fancies.
"Then Miss Amelia has told you," Walter said innocently. "Radcliffe, something must be done, this is frightful! You must persuade the ladies to leave- now- today! Come back to camp, I beg, and use your powers of persuasion. I cannot seem to prevail with either Miss Evelyn or his lordship."
"Oh, very well," Emerson grumbled, rising to his feet.
Walter extended his hand to me. His brother stalked away and we followed. When we caught him up, Walter continued to express his horror and alarm. Finally Emerson interrupted.
"Walter, you are babbling, and I don't believe you have thought the matter through. Suppose we do succeed in sending Miss Evelyn away; will that solve the difficulty? If the Mummy is a supernatural agent, which all you fools seem to believe, it can follow her wherever she goes. It can equally well follow her if it is not supernatural! Since you seem to be more concerned with her safety than with the success of our work here, perhaps you would agree that we ought to bend all our efforts on ascertaining the creature's motives, and apprehending it."
Walter looked distressed. The reasoning made some impression on his intellect, but all his protective instincts were at war with his brain; he wanted to see Evelyn out of danger.
"Indeed," I put in, "we really have no reason to suppose that the creature means Evelyn any harm. Both of you, and Lucas as well, have taken injury, but Evelyn has not been touched. She is the only one who has not been harmed- except for me."
"Ah," said Emerson, giving me a long, thoughtful look. "I assure you, Peabody, that point has not escaped me."
We finished the trip in silence. Walter was too worried, and I was too furious, to speak. I understood Emerson's implication. Could he really suspect me of being behind the diabolical plot? Surely not even Emerson was capable…
But, I told myself-he was! Such a cynic, who has never had an altruistic thought in his life, is always projecting his own failings onto other people.
Evelyn and Lucas were waiting for us, and we sat down for a discussion which at first proved fruitless. The fault was mine; ordinarily I have no difficulty in making up my mind, nor in convincing others of the correctness of my decision. On this occasion I could not come to a decision.
The safest course would have been for all of us to pack up and abandon the site. This I knew Emerson would never consider, and I had a certain sympathy for his point of view. Equally impossible to me was the idea of abandoning the Emersons and sailing away. Neither of them was in perfect health; they would be helpless if the villagers should turn from passive resistance to active hostility. They had no means of summoning help. Even in busy years the remote ruins of Amarna attract re
latively few visitors, and the unsettled condition in the Sudan had frightened away many travelers.
An alternative was for me to remain with my dahabeeyah, in case of emergency, while Lucas and Evelyn returned to Cairo for assistance. It would be improper for them to travel unchaperoned; but by that time I was ready to consign the proprieties to perdition, where they belonged. However, the plan had a number of difficulties. Evelyn would refuse to leave me, and Emerson would howl like a jackal at the idea of my remaining to protect him. He had the lowest possible opinion of Maspero and the Antiquities Department; the notion of appealing to them for help would offend his masculine pride.
Nevertheless, I thought it my duty to propose the scheme. It was received with the unanimous, negative outcry I had expected. Did I say unanimous? I am incorrect. The only one who did not object was the one I had expected to be most vehement. Emerson sat with his lips pressed tightly together.
Lucas was the most outspoken.
"Abandon our friends?" he exclaimed. "And you, Miss Amelia? It is not to be thought of! Furthermore, I cannot possibly agree to allowing Evelyn to risk her reputation traveling alone with me. There is only one circumstance under which such a scheme would be feasible…"
And he looked significantly at Evelyn, who flushed and turned her head away.
His meaning was clear. If Evelyn traveled as his affianced bride, the ceremony to be performed immediately upon their arrival in Cairo… In our conventional times the proprieties might be shaken by such an arrangement, but they would not be unalterably shattered.
Walter caught the meaning as soon as I did. His ingenuous young countenance fell. Emerson had produced his pipe and was puffing away with every appearance of enjoyment; his eyes gleamed maliciously as he looked from one of us to the other.
"Oh, this is absurd," I said, jumping to my feet. "We must make some decision. The day is passing, and I am worn out."
"Of course you are," Evelyn exclaimed, immediately concerned. "You must have rest, that is more important than anything else. Go and lie down, Amelia."
Crocodile On The Sandbank Page 21
