The first person to greet us was none other than Walter. He wore a sling, to support the injured arm, but otherwise he seemed well enough, and I was delighted to see him on his feet. He came to meet us, not quite running, and grasped my hand. But he looked at Evelyn.
"You cannot conceive how relieved I am to see you," he exclaimed. "I was furious with Radcliffe when he told me you had gone."
"I don't know why you should have been worried," I replied, returning his hearty handclasp. "It was you we worried about. How do you feel? And where is your brother?"
"You won't believe it," Walter said, smiling. "Guess."
"I don't need to guess," I replied. "Emerson has taken advantage of my absence to continue his excavations. He is totally without conscience! I suppose he has made another discovery. What is it? Another fragment of painting?"
Walter's eyes were wide with surprise.
"Miss Amelia, you astound me! You seem to read minds. How did you know?"
"I know your brother very well," I replied angrily. "He is capable of any stupidity where his precious antiquities are concerned. At such a time as this, to waste his time and energy… Where is he? I want to speak to him."
"The pavement is not far from the other one that was destroyed," Walter replied. "But- "
"But me no buts," I said. "The rest of you return to camp. I will fetch Emerson."
I set off without another word, not waiting to see whether they obeyed me. By the time I found Emerson I had worked myself up into quite a state of anger. He was squatting on the ground, his tan clothing and dusty helmet blending so well with the hue of the sand that I did not distinguish his form until I was almost upon him. He was so preoccupied that he failed to hear my approach. I struck him, not lightly, on the shoulder with my parasol.
"Oh," he said, glancing at me. "So it's you, Peabody. Of course. Who else would greet a man by beating him over the head?"
I squatted down beside him. This posture, so difficult at first, had become easier. My knees no longer cracked when I knelt.
He had cleared a patch of pavement some three feet square. I saw the blue undersurface which denoted water, and upon it three exquisitely shaped lotus flowers, with green leaves framing the pure-white petals.
"So this is the explanation of your plot," I remarked. "Sending me off with Evelyn in order to distract the Mummy, so that you could work in peace. Thank you, Emerson, for your concern! You are the most despicable, selfish… That is a great waste of time, you know, scooping at the sand with your bare hands. You will never clear the pavement that way. The sand trickles down as fast as you pull it away."
Emerson grinned unpleasantly at me over his shoulder.
"Tsk, tsk, Peabody, you are losing track of what you were saying. I am despicable, selfish-"
"Aren't you even curious?" I demanded angrily. "Don't you want to know what happened last night?"
"I know what happened." Emerson sat back on his haunches. "I went to the boat just before dawn this morning and had a talk with Hassan."
Now that I looked at him, I realized he appeared weary. There were dark circles under his eyes, and new lines around the firm mouth. I was momentarily deflated by this, and by his calm statement. But only momentarily.
"You did, did you? And what do you make of it all?"
"Why, matters transpired as I expected. The Mummy appeared, and was duly routed by you- "
"By Lucas," I interrupted.
"His lordship does not appear to have been particularly useful. His collapse threw the crew into a complete panic. Even Reis Hassan- who is far from being a coward, I assure you- is afraid. I trust his lordship is fully recovered mis morning from what Hassan described as a personally delivered curse?"
"I don't know what was wrong with him," I admitted. "If he were not such an intrepid fellow, I would suspect he simply fainted."
"Ha," said Emerson.
"Jeer as much as you like, you cannot deny the man's courage. He is no coward."
Emerson shrugged and began to scoop away more sand.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" I asked. "You have had one painting destroyed; uncover this, and it will meet the same fate. Its only safety now lies in obscurity."
"Perhaps its survival is not my chief concern," Emerson replied, still scooping. "We must have some lure for our mysterious visitor; better to lose this than Miss Evelyn."
I studied him in silence for several minutes.
"I cannot believe you mean that," I said finally.
"No, I am sure you have the lowest possible opinion of me and all my works. It is true, nevertheless."
There was a new note in his voice, one I had not heard before. Anger he had displayed, contempt, disgust; but never such weary bitterness. I felt peculiarly affected.
"I do not have a low opinion of you," I said- mumbled, rather.
Emerson turned.
"What did you say?"
We presented a ridiculous picture. Half kneeling, half squatting, Emerson was leaning forward to peer into my face. His hands rested on the ground, and his posture rather suggested that of an inquisitive orangutan. My own position, squatting on my heels with my skirts bunched up around me, was no less ludicrous. I was not conscious of absurdity or incongruity, however, I was only conscious of his eyes, blue and glittering as sapphires, holding my gaze with a strange intensity. Their look was too much to endure; my eyes fell, and my face felt uncomfortably warm.
And then the sound of a voice shattered the spell. Looking up, I saw Walter coming toward us. Emerson sat back.
"Radcliffe," Walter began, "what do you suppose has- "
He stopped speaking and looked from one of us to the other. "Is something wrong? Have I interrupted-"
"Nothing," Emerson said coldly. "You have not interrupted. What is it, Walter? You appear agitated."
"Agitated? I am, indeed! And so will you be, when you hear what transpired last night."
"I know what transpired," Emerson said, in the same cool voice.
I looked at him from under my lashes. His face was as impassive as one of the stone pharaohs in the Boulaq Museum. I decided I must have imagined the fleeting look of passionate inquiry. I was tired, after a sleepless night, and subject to fancies.
"Then Miss Amelia has told you," Walter said innocently. "Radcliffe, something must be done, this is frightful! You must persuade the ladies to leave- now- today! Come back to camp, I beg, and use your powers of persuasion. I cannot seem to prevail with either Miss Evelyn or his lordship."
"Oh, very well," Emerson grumbled, rising to his feet.
Walter extended his hand to me. His brother stalked away and we followed. When we caught him up, Walter continued to express his horror and alarm. Finally Emerson interrupted.
"Walter, you are babbling, and I don't believe you have thought the matter through. Suppose we do succeed in sending Miss Evelyn away; will that solve the difficulty? If the Mummy is a supernatural agent, which all you fools seem to believe, it can follow her wherever she goes. It can equally well follow her if it is not supernatural! Since you seem to be more concerned with her safety than with the success of our work here, perhaps you would agree that we ought to bend all our efforts on ascertaining the creature's motives, and apprehending it."
Walter looked distressed. The reasoning made some impression on his intellect, but all his protective instincts were at war with his brain; he wanted to see Evelyn out of danger.