'Not as yet.'
'How far to the ground?'
'Another twenty feet or so.'
'What do you suppose Larry was reacting to?'
'Must have been the large Egyptian statue standing directly below me,' said Sparks.
'Large Egyptian statue?'
'I can't quite make out who it is from this angle. Looks jackal-headed—'
'Did you say large Egyptian statue?'
'Yes. Possibly Anubis or Tuamutef—funereal deities, similar purpose, concerned with weighing a man's soul as he passes to the other side—'
Doyle's muscles were shaking violently with exertion. 'Could we forgo the mythology lesson long enough to decide if you're heading up or down? I don't know that I can hold on much longer.'
'Sorry. If you let me down slowly, Doyle, I think I can grab hold of the statue, let go the braces, and climb down the rest of the way.'
'Fine.'
Doyle lowered Sparks until he could reach down with one foot and steady himself against the statue's shoulder. He un-snapped his own braces, and both pairs flew into the air. Doyle reached out, caught them, and slumped back against the wall in relief, the knots in his arms relaxing into merely agonizing spasms.
'I believe it's definitely Tuamutef,' said Sparks, sliding down the figure's body to the ground. 'Quite rare outside of Egypt. Remarkable. I can't actually recall ever seeing one this size before.'
'How interesting for you. What do you suggest I do now, Jack?'
'Tie off the braces and lower yourself down. You really shouldn't miss this, Doyle.'
'I wouldn't dream of it.'
Doyle collected himself, tied the braces as securely around the ladder as his knowledge of seafaring knots would allow, and let himself ever-so-gently down into the arms of dog-faced Tuamutef.
'Tuamutef assisted Anubis in the preparation of bodies for mummification and burial,' said Sparks, walking around with the candle, inspecting the statue at its base as Doyle attempted a difficult, chafing passage down Tuamutef's bumpy torso. 'His particular province was the stomach, specifically the removal and preservation of the viscera for the journey into the underworld.'
'This, I can say with some assurance, is as far into the underworld as I ever hope to go,' said Doyle, finally touching down beside him.
'The viscera were packed in airtight jars with a compound of herbs and spices that delayed decomposition, so you could take them out and stick the organs right back into place once you reached the other side,' said Sparks, preoccupied to the point of obliviousness.
'Fascinating, truly, but Jack, if you don't mind my asking, if someone has in fact sealed us in down here with evil intent—one of many possibilities, I realize, but one we really ought to consider—don't you think it would be a good idea—a really first-rate idea, in fact—for us to quickly find our way out of here?'
'Right.'
Sparks looked off in both directions. Doyle couldn't help but notice that their candle was growing perilously small. Behind the statue, he spotted what appeared to be a blackened torch set in a bracket on the wall and quickly retrieved it.
'This appears to be an old Roman conduit—can't seem to shake off those persistent old buggers, can we? London's lousy with them. This one has been rather extensively refurbished. Aside from the parties responsible for the construction of the shaft we just descended, a fairly recent addition, it's likely no one else is even aware this tunnel's down here. And if the used torch you've just handed me is any indication, it has been used by those parties sometime within the last few days.'
Sparks ignited the torch from the candle, filling the chamber with twenty times the previous supply of light. A huge, pulsating shadow of Tuamutef was thrown menacingly onto the opposite wall.
'Which way should we go?'
'The tunnel runs north to south.' He pointed south, where the walls curved gently away around a turn, just as a muffled scuffling issued faintly from the direction.
'What was that?' asked Doyle.
They listened. The scuffle repeated, slowly and rhythmically. It seemed to be moving toward them.
'Footsteps?' said Doyle.
'The person is injured. Dragging one foot behind.' 'Larry?'
'No, they're not wearing shoes.' Sparks turned back to the north and examined the bricks on either side of the water. 'If we follow the wax drippings in this direction, which Larry has thoughtfully provided for us, we will much more quickly discover his whereabouts.'
Maintaining the same sluggish pace, the footsteps behind them drew closer to the nearest turn.
'Then who do you suppose that is?' asked Doyle, lowering his voice.
'I never ask questions I don't really wish to know the answer to. Let's move on.'
They sloshed through the shallow water and made for the north.
'As to what Tuamutef is doing here a hundred feet below the offices of Rathborne and Sons ...' Sparks mused as they walked.
'You mentioned the removal of the viscera. Similar to what was done to the body of that streetwalker Leboux showed to me, isn't it?'
'The thought had occurred to me. It suggests the Dark Brotherhood is paying obeisance to an ancient Egyptian deity.'
'You mean as a sacrificial offering of some kind?'
'These people are dedicated pagans—that opens their field of worship to the collective pantheon—and with his years in Egypt, Alexander is surely up to snuff on his Tuamutef/' said Sparks. 'Something has just struck me about one of the seven names on our list.'
'Which?'
'Maximilian Graves—what does that bring to your mind?'
Doyle ran it back and forth. 'I'm sure I don't know.'
'An alias, a play on words. Do you see it? Makes-a-million graves. Precisely the sort of diseased jest Alexander used to play with obsessively in his letters. Beware the inveterate punster, Doyle, it's a sure sign of brewing mental disturbance.'
'You think Alexander's responsible for Tuamutef being there?'
'Yes. In which case he's responsible for that woman's murder.'
'But if it was a ritual of some kind, why were her organs left at the scene? Surely they would have returned them here, to their shrine.'
'Perhaps the ritual was interrupted before completion, that's not a worry—the thing is, I'm puzzled by what the statue itself is doing here.'
'Convenience—pop down the ladder with a bowl of guts for the old boy whenever the mood strikes—'
'No, Doyle,' said Sparks somewhat impatiently, 'we're in complete agreement on the reason for the statue being here; I'm trying to work out how it physically arrived.'
A light flickered around the curve of the tunnel ahead. Sparks stopped and gave out with another low whistle. A moment later, the whistle was returned.
'Larry,' said Doyle.
'Step lively, Doyle. We're still being followed.'
Trotting on a hundred yards around the bend to where the tunnel terminated abruptly, they found Larry working by the light of his candle on the padlock of an immense doorway set into the dead-end wall.
'Sorry for the inconvenience, guv,' said Larry as they approached.
'Are you all right?' asked Doyle.
'Never better. The drop down was a bit more steep than I'd bargained for, I can tell you, knocked the Jenny Lind right out of me when I hit bottom. By the time I got my bellows and candle goin' again and caught an eyeful of that bloody dog-man, I thought silence might be the advisable course of action.'
'The trap was closed after us,' said Sparks, inspecting the doors.
