'You should appeal to me, my lord, for permission to join our group. I confess I cannot think of any means of preventing you from pitching a tent anywhere you choose.'
From Emerson this was positively a gracious speech. Lucas seemed to realize it; he turned his considerable charm on Emerson, who continued to study him with all the enthusiasm of a gruff old mastiff watching the gambols of a puppy. When Lucas expressed interest in the antiquities of the area, he unbent a trifle and offered to show Lucas some of the tombs.
'We have uncovered very little of the city,' he explained. 'The ruins that remain are not interesting to a layman. The carvings in the tombs have a certain appeal, however.'
'I regret that I have not had time to examine them more closely,' I interrupted. 'I meant to ask you, Emerson, whether there might not be more tombs to be discovered. What of the long's own tomb, for instance? He of all people must have had a sepulcher here.'
'That is one of the projects I had hoped to undertake this season,' Emerson replied. 'The royal tomb has never been properly cleared out, although these villainous villagers removed anything of salable value some time ago. There was not much; the reliefs in the tomb were never finished, and I question whether Khuenaten was ever buried there, although fragments of a sarcophagus may still be seen in the burial chamber. Hmmm. Yes, Peabody, I would like to have another look at it. Suppose we go this afternoon.'
'The royal tomb is not to my taste today,' Lucas said, stretching out his booted feet lazily. 'It is quite a distance, I am told, and the path is rugged.'
'It would mar the finish of your boots,' Emerson agreed gravely. 'You seem to know something about Amarna, Lord Ellesmere. The royal tomb is not on the ordinary traveler's list of sights.
'Oh, I have become an interested student of all things Egyptian. Already I have made a splendid collection of antiquities, and I hope to acquire more along the way. I intend to set up an Egyptian gallery at Ellesmere Castle.'
Emerson had been keeping himself under tight rein- for what reason I could not imagine- but this was too much for him.
'Another amateur collection, ignorantly displayed and isolated from scholars,' he burst out. 'Of course you are collecting your antiquities from the dealers, my lord- which means that they have been wantonly pilfered from the original places, with no records kept- '
'I seem to have struck inadvertently at a tender spot,' Lucas said, smiling at Evelyn.
She did not return the smile; instead she said seriously, 'Mr. Emerson's feelings are more than justified, Lucas. It is vital that excavations should be carried out only by trained archaeologists. Some objects are fragile and can be damaged by unskilled hands. More important, the provenance of an object can sometimes tell us a great deal- where it was found, with what other objects, and so on. If visitors would not buy from dealers and peasants, they would stop their illicit digging.'
'Dear me, you are becoming quite an enthusiast yourself,' Lucas exclaimed. 'That is what I shall need for my Egyptian gallery- an expert who will tend and classify my collection. Then perhaps Mr. Emerson will not despise me.'
Evelyn's eyes fell under his meaningful regard.
'Emerson will despise you in any case,' I said. 'The only steps you can take to redeem yourself are, one, to cease buying antiquities, and two, to present the ones you have to the British Museum. The scholars there will take proper care of them.'
Emerson muttered something which, though indistinct, was clearly uncomplimentary to the British Museum.
Lucas laughed. 'No, I cannot give up my collection, perhaps Mr. Emerson will read my papyrus for me.'
'You have a papyrus?' I inquired interestedly.
'Yes, quite a good one- brown with age, crumbling, covered with those strange little scratches which were, I am told, developed from the hieroglyphic picture writing. When I unrolled it- '
An ominous moaning sound emerged from Emerson. 'You unrolled it,' he repeated.
'Only the first section,' said Lucas cheerfully. 'It began to break apart then, so I thought… Why, Mr. Emerson, you look quite pale. I gather I have done something reprehensible.'
'You might as well confess to a murder,' Emerson exclaimed. 'There are too many people in the world as it is, but the supply of ancient manuscripts is severely limited.' Lucas seemed subdued by the reproof. 'I will give it to you, then, if you feel so strongly. Perhaps it will count as my payment of admission to this charming group,' he added more cheerfully. 'I must send back to my dahabeeyah for supplies, if I am to spend the night. Let us just have a look around, shall we? I can hardly wait to see the scenes of the Mummy's appearance, and select a tomb for myself.'
Emerson acquiesced with no more than a mumble. I was at a loss to account for his amiability at first. Then two explanations occurred to me. I was ready to believe either or both, since neither reflected any credit on Emerson.
Money for excavation was hard to come by; a wealthy patron could relieve Emerson's anxieties in this area. Furthermore, it was as clear as print that Lucas was interested in Evelyn. His eyes seldom left her face, and he made no attempt to conceal his tender concern. Emerson must realize that Walter also loved the girl. He would not be pleased to lose his devoted acolyte; perhaps he meant Walter to marry well, in order to supply more funds for the gaping maw of his research. By encouraging a rival to his brother, he kept that brother under his callused thumb. My suspicions were confirmed when Emerson waxed positively jovial as he showed Lucas the camp. As for Lucas, he bubbled with enthusiasm and admiration. Nothing could be more charming! He could not imagine anything more delightful than camping out in an ancient tomb! The scenery was magnificent, the air was like wine, and- in short, you would have thought our meticulous lordship was rhapsodizing over a modern luxury hotel and a vista of wooded grandeur. He plied Emerson with questions; shook his head over the perfidy of Mohammed and the superstitions of the visitors; insisted on pressing the hand of the faithful Abdullah, who looked askance at this demonstration. The only thing he expressed doubt about was Michael.
'Are you certain you can trust him?' he asked in a low voice, as we walked past the cook tent where Michael was preparing a simple lunch. The devoted fellow had taken over menial duties that would ordinarily have been below his dignity, since the villagers had abandoned us. We had decided not to involve any of our servants from the boat; there was no telling how they would react to the story, much less the sight, of the Mummy.
'I trust him implicitly,' Evelyn replied firmly. 'Amelia saved the life of his child; he would die for her, I think.'
'Then there is no more to be said,' said Lucas. But he did say more- a good deal more. Michael was, after all, a native. Was he not just as superstitious as the villagers? Could he be trusted to risk, not only his life, but his immortal soul, as he believed, with a demon of the night?
'I have considered that,' Emerson replied shortly. 'You need not concern yourself about it, your lordship.'
His tone brooked no argument. Even Lucas recognized this, and he abandoned the subject.
Of the tombs in our immediate vicinity only a few were habitable; some were blocked by rock falls or heaps of debris. They were similar in plan, having a large hall with columns beyond the entrance corridor, from which another corridor led on to more rooms, including the burial chamber. Evelyn and I occupied a tomb that had once belonged to a royal craftsman who bore the engaging title Washer of Hands of his Majesty. The tide delighted me because it was a reminder of the constancy of human nature; I could not help recalling our own Tudor and Stuart monarchs, who were served by high noblemen who considered it an honor to be the official holders of the royal trousers.
But I digress.
Lucas was with difficulty dissuaded from moving into the most grandiose of the nearby tombs, that of one Mahu, who had been chief of police of the city. Clearing it out would have taken days. So Lucas's servants were set to work on another, smaller tomb, and one of them was sent back to the dahabeeyah with a long list of Lucas's requirements for the next day or two.
After luncheon we separated, Evelyn to rest, Walter to work at recording some pottery
