8
WHEN WE came out of the tomb, wearing fresh garments and rather red eyes, we found the men assembled. Lucas had brought enough articles to stock a shop; there were flowers on the table, and a glittering array of silverware and crystal. The look on Emerson's face as he contemplated the elegantly set table was almost enough to compensate for the absurdity of the business.
Lucas was attired in a fresh suit, spotless and expensively tailored. He sprang to his feet when we appeared and held a chair for Evelyn. Walter held one for me. Lucas offered us sherry. He behaved as if he were the host. Emerson, who was now staring at the toes of his deplorable boots, said nothing. His arm was still strapped to his side, and I concluded that he felt too ill to be as objectionable as he usually was.
"Such elegance," I commented, as Lucas handed me a delicate goblet. "We are not accustomed to luxury here, your lordship."
"I see no reason for depriving oneself of the amenities," Lucas replied, smiling. "If ascetisism is necessary, I venture to say that you will find me ready to accept the most stringent measures; but while Amontillado and crystal are available, I will make use of them."
He lifted his own glass in a mock salute. It did not contain Amontillado, although the liquid was almost as dark a shade of amber. My father never drank spirits, but my brothers were not so abstentious. I looked critically at the glass, and remarked, "Do you think it wise to imbibe? We must be on the qui vive tonight. Or have you abandoned your intention of lying in wait for our visitor?"
"Not at all! I have a strong head, Miss Amelia, and a little whiskey only makes my senses more acute."
"That is the common delusion of the drinker," said Walter, His tone was offensive. Lucas smiled at him.
"We are appreciative of your luxuries, Lucas," Evelyn said. "But they really are not necessary. How heavily laden your dahabeeyah must be!"
'It would have been more heavily laden if I had had my way," Lucas replied. "Your boxes have arrived in Cairo, Evelyn. I intended to bring them along; but that old curmudgeon, Baring, refused to hand them over."
"Indeed?" I said. "He was an acquaintance of my father's."
"I am well aware of that. You should be complimented, Miss Amelia, that the new master of Egypt has taken the trouble to look after your affairs personally. The boxes were sent to you, since it was your address the Roman consul had for Evelyn. Baring took charge of them in Cairo and guards them like the dictator he is. I explained my relationship to Evelyn, but he was an adamant."
"Perhaps your reputation has preceded you," I said mildly.
It was impossible to offend Lucas. He laughed heartily.
"Oh, it has. I went to university with a young relative of Baring's. I am afraid certain- er- escapades reached the distinguished gentleman's ears."
"It does not matter," Evelyn said. "I am grateful for your efforts, Lucas, but I need nothing more than I have."
"You need nothing except yourself," Lucas said warmly. "That is treasure enough. But your needs and your desserts are two different things. One day, Evelyn, you will be persuaded to accept what you deserve; although all the treasure houses of the pharaohs could not hold its real value."
Evelyn flushed and was silent; she was too gentle to reproach him for his remarks, which were, to say the least, out of place at that time and in that company. I felt quite exasperated with the girl; could she not see that her response to Lucas's florid compliments only inflamed poor Walter's jealousy? With a lover's excessive sensibility he misinterpreted every blush, every glance.
Emerson removed his gaze from the toes of his boots and glowered at me. "Are we to sit here all evening exchanging compliments? No doubt you have planned the evening's entertainment, Peabody; enlighten us as to what we must do."
"I had not given the matter much thought."
"Really? And why not?"
I had found that the surest way of annoying Emerson was to ignore his provocative remarks and reply as if he had spoken in ordinary courteous exchange.
"I was thinking of the royal tomb," I explained. "Of the relief of the little princess and her grieving parents. Evelyn should copy it. She would do it beautifully."
"I am surprised at the suggestion," Lucas exclaimed. "After what happened today- "
"Oh, I don't mean she should do it now; but one day, when the situation has been cleared up. Since your connection with Evelyn has been so distant, Lucas, you may not know that she is a splendid artist. She has already done a painting of the pavement that was destroyed."
Lucas insisted on seeing this painting and exclaimed over it quite excessively. The conversation having turned to matters archaeological, he was reminded of the papyrus scroll he had mentioned.
"I had the bearers fetch it," he said, reaching into the box at his side. "Here you are, Mr. Emerson. I said I would hand it over, and I keep my word."
The papyrus was enclosed in a carved and colored wooden case, except for a single section-the one Lucas had unrolled.
"I put it between two squares of glass," he explained. "That seemed the best method of keeping it from crumbling any further."
"At least you had that much sense," Emerson grumbled. "Hand it to Walter, if you please, your lordship. I might drop it, having only one good hand."
Walter took the framed section, as gently as if it had been a baby, on the palms of his two hands. The sun was setting, but tiiere was still ample light. As Walter bent over the sheet of papyrus, a lock of hair tumbled down over his brow. His lips moved as if in silent prayer. He seemed to have forgotten our presence.
I leaned forward to see better. The papyrus seemed to me to be in fairly good condition, compared with others I had seen in antiquities shops. It was brown with age and the edges were crumbling, but the black, inky writing stood out clearly on the whole. An occasional word was written in red, which had not fared so well; it had faded to a rusty brown. Of course I had no notion whatsoever what the writing said. It resembled the hieroglyphic writing; one could distinguish the shape of an occasional bird or squatting figure, each of which represented a letter in the ancient picture alphabet of the Egyptians. But the majority of the letters were abbreviated forms and resembled a written script such as Arabic more than it resembled hieroglyphic writing.
"It is splendid hieratic," said Emerson, who was leaning over his brother's shoulder. "Much closer to the hieroglyphs than some I have seen. Can you make it out, Walter?"
"You don't mean that Master Walter can read that scribble?" Lucas exclaimed.
"Master Walter," said his brother drily, "is one of the world's leading experts on the ancient language. I know a bit, but I am primarily an excavator. Walter has specialized in philology. Well, Walter?"
"Your partiality makes you praise me too highly," Walter said, his eyes greedily devouring the crabbed script. "I must show this to Frank Griffith; he is with Petrie at Naucratis this season, and unless I miss my guess, he is going to be one of our leading scholars. However, I believe I can make out a few lines. You are right, Radcliffe; it is splendid hieratic. That," he explained to the rest of us, "was the cursive script used on documents and records. The hieroglyphic signs were too ornate and cumbersome for the scribes of a busy kingdom. The hieratic was developed from the hieroglyphic, and if you look closely, you will see how the signs resemble the original pictures."
"I see!" Evelyn burst out. We were all bending over the papyrus now, except Lucas, who sipped his whiskey and watched us all with his patronizing smile. "Surely that is an owl- the letter 'm.' And the following word much resembles the seated man, which is the pronoun 'I.'"