now locked on his shoulder, gently crushing the bones.
'Listen to me, foolish one.' The thing drew in closer. He could feel its breath on his face. 'Harm Julie and I shall do it. Make Julie cry and I shall do it! Make Julie frown and I shall do it! For the sake of Julie's peace of mind, you live. There is nothing more to it. Remember what I say.'
The hand released him. He slumped towards the floor, only catching himself before he actually fell. He gritted his teeth, his eyes closing as he felt the warm stickiness inside his pants, and smelled his own waste. His bowels had cut loose.
The thing stood there, its face veiled in shadow as it studied the gun which it held out to the gray light from the porthole in the door. Then it pocketed the gun and turned on its heel and left him.
A wave of sickness rose; he saw blackness.
When he awoke he was crouched in the corner of the passage. No one had passed, it seemed. Trembling, dizzy, he climbed to his feet and made his way to his stateroom. And once there he stood over the small toilet vomiting up the contents of his stomach. Only then did he strip off his soiled clothes.
* * *
She was crying when he came in. She had sent Rita off to supper with the other servants on board. He did not even knock. He opened the door and slipped inside. She wouldn't look at him.
She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, but her crying wouldn't stop.
'I'm sorry, my Queen. My gentle Queen. Believe me, lam.' When she looked up she saw the sadness in his face. He stood helplessly before her, the lamp behind him filling the edges of his brown hair with an uneven golden light.
'Let it be for now, Ramses,' she said desperately. 'I can't bear it, the knowledge that he did it. Let it be, I beg you. I only want us to be in Egypt together.'
He sat down on the settee beside her, towering over her, and gently he turned her and this time when he kissed her she melted completely, letting him enfold her, letting him breathe into her that powerful heat. She kissed his face, his cheek where the flesh was so taut over the bones, and then his closed eyes. She felt his hands tighten on her naked shoulders and she realized he was pushing her gown down and away from her breasts.
She drew back, ashamed. She had led him on and she hadn't meant to.
' 'I don't want it to happen,' she said, her tears coming again.
Not looking at him, she pushed the satin sleeves upwards. When finally their eyes met, she saw only patience, and that faint half smile, now tempered by the same sadness she'd seen before.
He reached out for her, and she stiffened. But he merely adjusted the sleeves of her dress for her. And straightened the pearls around her neck. Then he kissed her hand.
'Come out with me,' he said in a low, soft voice, kissing her tenderly on her shoulder. 'The wind is cool and fresh. And they are playing music in the public rooms. Can we dance together to the music? Ah, this floating palace. It is paradise. Come with me, my Queen.'
'But Alex,' she said. 'If only Alex . . .'
He kissed her throat. He kissed her hand again. He turned her hand over and pressed his lips to her palm. The heat coursed through her again. To stay in this room would be folly, unless, of course. But no. She could not let it happen, until it was really what she wanted with her whole soul.
She might lose her soul utterly; that was the horror. There was a dim sense again of her world being destroyed.
'Let's go, then,' she said drowsily.
He helped her to her feet. He took her handkerchief from her and wiped her eyes with it as if she were a child. Then he picked up her white fur from the arm of the chair and put it over her shoulders.
They walked together along the windy deck and into the corridor and towards the grand ballroom-a lovely confection of gilded wood and satin wall panels, of drowsing palms and stained glass.
He moaned as he looked at the distant orchestra. 'Oooh, Julie, this music,' he whispered. 'It enslaves me.'
It was a Strauss waltz again, only there were many musicians here, and the sound was louder and richer, flooding the great room.
No sign of Alex, thank God. She turned to him, and let him take her hand.
With a great sweeping turn, he began to waltz with her, beaming down at her, and it seemed then nothing mattered. There was no Alex; there was no Henry; there had been no terrible death for her father which must be avenged.
There was only this moment of dancing with him, round and round, beneath the soft iridescent chandeliers. The music surged; the other dancers seemed perilously close around them; but Ramses' steps were perfect for all their great breadth and strength.
Wasn't it enough that he should be a mystery? she thought desperately. Wasn't it enough that he'd torn the veil away completely? Did he have to be irresistible? Did she have to fall so hopelessly in love?
* * *
Far away, from the deep shadows of the darkly paneled bar, Elliott watched them dancing. They were going into the third waltz now, and Julie was laughing as Ramsey led her recklessly and madly, driving the other dancers out of his path.
No one seemed to take offense at it. Everyone respects those who are in love.
Elliott finished his whisky, then rose to go.
When he reached Henry's door, he knocked once and then opened it. Henry sat hunched over on the small couch, a thin green robe wrapped around him, his legs naked and hairy beneath it, his feet bare. He appeared to be trembling, as if he were terribly cold.
Elliott was appalled suddenly at the heat of his own anger. His voice came out hoarse and unfamiliar.
'What did our Egyptian King see?' he demanded. 'What happened in that tomb when Lawrence died!'
Henry tried to turn away from him, in a pathetic moment of hysteria, as if he could claw his way through the wall. Elliott turned him around.
'Look at me, you miserable little coward. Answer my question. What happened in that tomb!'
'I was trying to get what you wanted!' Henry whispered. His eyes were sunken. There was a great bruise on his neck. 'I was . . . trying to persuade him to advise Julie to marry Alex.'
'Don't lie to me!' Elliott said. His left hand clutched at the silver walking stick, ready to lift it, to wield it like a club.
'I don't know what happened,' Henry pleaded. 'Or what it saw! It was wrapped up in the damned mummy case. What the hell could it have seen! Uncle Lawrence was arguing with me. He was upset. The heat... I don't know what happened. Suddenly he was lying on the floor.'
He slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. 'I didn't mean to hurt him,' he sobbed. 'Oh, God, I didn't mean to hurt him! I did what I had to do.'' He bowed his head, fingers meshed in his dark hair.
Elliott stared down at him. If this had been his son, life would have no meaning. And if this miserable creature was lying . . . But he didn't know. He simply could not tell.
'All right,' he murmured. 'You have told me everything?'
'Yes!' Henry said. 'God, I have to get off this ship! I have to get away from it!''
'But why does it despise you? Why did it try to kill you, and why does it seek to humiliate you?'
There was a moment of silence. All he heard were Henry's desperate broken gasps. Then the thin white face was turned up again, the sunken dark eyes imploring him.
'I saw it come alive,' Henry said. 'I'm the only one other than Julie who really knows what it is. You know, but I'm the one who saw it. It wants to kill me! 'He stopped, as if he feared losing control altogether. His eyes were dancing as he looked at the carpet. 'I'll tell you something too,' he said, as he slumped back again on the couch. 'It's unnaturally strong, that thing. It could kill a man with its bare hands. Why it didn't kill me the first time it tried, I don't know. But it could succeed if it tried again.'
The Earl didn't respond.
He turned and left the stateroom. He went out onto the deck. The sky was black over the sea, and the stars were, as always on a cloudless night over the ocean, wonderfully clear.
