"A momentary weakness," I said. "I think- I think perhaps I will sit down.
Walter quickly offered his arm, and I did not disdain it.
"You are wearing yourself out, Miss Peabody," he said warmly. "We cannot allow such sacrifices. Today you must rest; I insist upon it."
"Hmmm," said Emerson. His eyes expressed neither concern nor appreciation, but rather speculation as they examined my face.
As the day wore on I could not help recalling Evelyn's remark of the previous evening. I had discounted her mention of nervousness then; now I could not deny that the atmosphere was uneasy. I myself was unable to settle down to anything. After working on the pavement for a time I went to the site where Walter and Abdullah were directing the workers.
There were more than fifty people at work. The men were removing the sand that had covered the foundations of temples and houses, shoveling it into baskets which were then carried away by children, boys and girls both. It was necessary to dump the sand some distance away, lest it cover future excavations. The work was tedious, except when the men reached the floor level, where abandoned objects might be found; yet all the workers, children and adults alike, usually worked cheerfully and willingly. They are very musical people, the Egyptians, although their wailing, yodeling singing sounds odd to European ears; but today no brisk chorus speeded the work. The children who carried the baskets were slow and unsmiling.
I joined Abdullah, the foreman, where he stood on a little rise of sand watching the diggers. "They do not sing today," I said. "Why not, Abdullah?" Not a muscle moved in the dignified brown face; but I sensed an inner struggle.
"They are ignorant people," he said, after a time. "They fear many things."
"What things?"
"Afreets, demons- all strange things. They fear ghosts of the dead. The mummy- they ask where it has gone."
That was all he could, or would, say. I went back to my pavement in some perturbation of spirit. I could hardly sneer at the ignorance of the natives when I had experienced equally wild thoughts.
The reader may well ask why I had not spoken of my adventure. I asked myself the same question; but I knew the answer, and it did not reflect creditably on my character. I was afraid of being laughed at. I could almost hear Emerson's great guffaws echoing out across the valley when I told him of seeing his lost mummy out for a midnight stroll. And yet I felt I ought to speak. I knew I had not seen an animated mummy. My brain knew it, if my nervous system did not. I spent the rest of the day brushing tapioca and water over my lovely pavement and carrying on a vigorous internal debate – common sense against vanity.
When we gathered on the ledge for our customary evening meeting, I could see that the others were also distraught. Walter looked very tired; he dropped into a chair with a sigh and let his head fall back.
"What a wretched day! We seem to have accomplished nothing."
"I shall come down tomorrow," said Emerson. He looked at me. "With Peabody 's permission or without it." Walter sat upright.
"Radcliffe, why do you address Miss Peabody so disrespectfully? After all she has done for us…"
It was unusual for Walter to speak so sharply-another indication, if I had needed one, of the strained atmosphere.
"Oh, I don't mind," I said calmly. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, you know. As for your returning to work tomorrow…"
I looked Emerson up and down. The clinical appraisal annoyed him, as I had known it would; he squirmed like a guilty schoolboy, and exclaimed. "What is your diagnosis, Sitt Hakim?"
Truthfully, I was not pleased with his appearance. He had lost considerable flesh. The bones in his face were too prominent, and his eyes were still sunken in their sockets.
"I disapprove," I said. "You are not strong enough yet to be out in the sun. Have you taken your medicine today?"
Emerson's reply was not suitable for the pages of a respectable book. Walter sprang to his feet with a hot reproof. Only the appearance of Michael, with the first course of our dinner, prevented an argument. We went early to bed. I could see that Emerson fully intended to return to the excavations next day, so he needed his sleep, and after my disturbed night I too was weary.
Yet I did not sleep well. I had disturbing dreams. I awoke from one such dream in the late hours of the night, and as my sleep-fogged eyes focused, I saw a slim white form standing by the doorway. My heart gave such a leap I thought it would choke me. When I recognized Evelyn, I almost fainted with relief.
She turned, hearing my gasp.
"Amelia," she whispered.
"What is it? Why are you awake at this hour? Good Gad, child, you almost frightened me to death!"
She looked ghostly as she glided toward me, her bare feet making no sound, her white nightdress floating out behind her. I lighted a lamp; Evelyn's face was as pale as her gown. She sank down on the edge of my bed, and I saw that she was shivering.
"I heard a sound," she said. "Such an eerie sound, Amelia, like a long, desolate sigh. I don't know how long it had been going on. It woke me; I am surprised it didn't waken you too."
"I heard it, and it became part of my dream," I answered. "I dreamed of death, and someone weeping over a grave… Then what happened?"
"I didn't want to wake you; you had worked so hard today. But the sound went on and on, until I thought I should the; it was so dreary, so unutterably sad. I had to know what was making it. So I went and drew the curtain aside and looked out." She paused, and went even paler.
"Go on," I urged. "You need not fear my skepticism, Evelyn. I have reasons, which you will hear in due course, for believing the wildest possible tale."
"You cannot mean that you too- "
"Tell me what you saw."
"A tall, pale form, featureless and stark. It stood in shadow, but… Amelia, it had no face! There was no sign of nose or mouth or eyes, only a flat, white oval; no hair, only a smooth-fitting covering. The limbs were stiff- "
"Enough of this equivocation," I cried impatiently. "What you saw resembled… was like… seemed to be… in short – a Mummy!" Evelyn stared at me.
"You saw it too! You must have done, or you could not accept this so readily. When? How?"
"One might add, 'why?'" I said wryly. "Yes, I saw such a form last night. This morning I found scraps of rotted wrappings on the ledge outside our chamber."
"And you said nothing of this to Walter- or to me?"
"It sounded too ridiculous," I admitted, "particularly after I learned that the mummy we discovered had mysteriously disappeared in the night."
"Ridiculous, Amelia? I wish I could think so. What are we to do?"
"I will have the courage to speak now that I have you to support me. But I shudder to think what Emerson will say. I can hear him now: "A walking mummy, Peabody? Quite so! No wonder the poor fellow wants exercise, after lying stiff for two thousand years!"
"Nevertheless, we must speak."
"Yes. In the morning. That will be time enough for my humiliation."
But the morning brought a new sensation, and new troubles.
I was up betimes. Emerson, another early riser, was already pacing about near the cook tent. A pith helmet, set at a defiant angle, proclaimed his intentions for the day. I glanced at it, and at his haggard face, and sniffed meaningfully; but I made no comment. Breakfast was prepared; we returned to our table on the ledge, where Evelyn and Walter joined us; and the meal was almost finished when Emerson exploded.
"Where are the men? Good God, they should have been here an hour ago!"
Walter withdrew his watch from his pocket and glanced at it.