This was too much for Emerson, who was quivering like a boiler about to blow up. With a roar, he erupted into the lighted chamber. I need not say that I was close on his heels.
The first thing I saw was Evelyn's pallid face, streaked with dust and tears, her eyes fairly bulging out of her head as she saw me. The first sound I heard was her cry of "Amelia!" as she collapsed in a swoon of relief and joy.
The poor child was huddled on the littered floor, her hands bound behind her, her pretty hair all tangled and dusty. I lifted her up, and watched complacently as Emerson finished choking Alberto. Yes; the Mummy, the confederate of Lucas-Luigi, the abductor of Evelyn, was none other than her erstwhile lover, whose relationship to her scheming cousin had been made plain by his own boasts. I think that of the two he was the worst; I didn't feel the slightest inclination to interfere as his face turned purple and his flailing hands dropped limply.
Emerson dropped him with a thud and turned to his brother. Walter was lying in the opposite corner, bound hand and foot; he was unconscious, and a darkening bruise on his brow showed how the villain had struck him down. Evelyn came back to consciousness in time to hear Emerson proclaim, in ringing tones, "He is alive! He is not seriously injured!" Whereupon she fainted again, and I had quite a time bringing her around.
The journey back was long and arduous, but it did not seem so to us; our hearts were overflowing with happiness increased by the knowledge that we had left Alberto bound and gagged in the tomb where he had intended to entomb Evelyn and Walter. The last thing I remember seeing as we left was the mummy costume lying limp and harmless on the floor. It seemed absurd when I looked at it closely that it could have frightened anyone. The head mask was made in a separate piece, the joint being covered by strips of bandaging. And the suit itself buttoned neatly up the front.
Two years have passed since the events of which I have written- two years full of thrilling events,both personal and historic. Emerson's fears for the gallant Gordon were, alas, justified; he was horribly murdered in January, before the expeditionary force arrived. But the cause for which he died was not lost; the mad Mahdi himself died the same year, and our forces are beating back the insurgents. Myfriend Maspero has left the Antiquities Department, which is now under the charge of M. Grebaut, whom Emerson detests even more than he did Maspero. As for Emerson himself…
I sit, writing this, on the ledge above the familiar and beloved plain of Amarna; and when I lift my eyes from the page I see the busy groups of workmen scattered about like black ants on the pale sand, as they bring the ruins of Khuenaten's city back to the light of day. My self-appointed Critic has left me in order to supervise the clearing of what appears to have been a sculptor's workshop; several splendid busts have already been found. Emerson pushes himself unnecessarily, for Abdullah is an excellent foreman, reliable and skilled. As Emerson says, there is nothing like a spot of blackmail to make a man perform to the best of his ability. Abdullah never refers to the events of that winter two years ago.
They are surprisingly clear and present to my mind, as if they had happened only yesterday. I never had such a good time in all my life. Oh, certainly, at the time there were moments of extreme discomfort; but the adventure, the danger, the exhilaration of doubt and peril are in retrospect something I rather regret having lost.
We had to interrupt the excavations for a few weeks. To Emerson's deep disgust, it was necessary to carry our captives to Cairo and explain to the authorities there what had happened. I had suggested leaving Alberto in the tomb; it seemed a fitting punishment. But I was dissuaded by Evelyn's horrified protests.
So, at sunrise, we returned to the dahabeeyah, and Emerson made a fine speech to the assembled crew, who squatted on the deck staring at him with round black eyes while he explained that the Mummy had been a hoax, the curse imaginary, and that an ordinary human being had been behind the whole thing. He produced his downcast, shivering captive at the appropriate moment, and I think the sight of an Englishman, one of the Master Race, in bonds and held up to scorn as a common criminal did as much as anything to win their wholehearted allegiance. Lucas's crew gave us no difficulty; their loyalty had been won with money, and as soon as the source of funds dried up, their devotion withered. An expedition set out immediately for the camp and brought back a very thirsty Alberto, together with our luggage and equipment. I myself supervised the removal of poor Michael, on a litter. We set sail at once for Cairo.
It was an enjoyable trip. With the great sail furled and lowered onto blocks on the deck, we let the current bear us downstream. There were occasional misadventures- grounding on sandbars, an encounter with another dahabeeyah that lost the latter its bowsprit and won us the collective curses of the exuberant American passengers; but these are only the normal accidents of Nile travel. In every other way matters could not have been more satisfactory. Michael began to make a good recovery, which relieved my worst fears. The crew outdid itself to please us. The cook produced magnificent meals, we were waited upon like princes, and Reis Hassan obeyed my slightest command. The full moon shone down upon us, the river rolled sweetly by… And Emerson said not a word.
I had waited for him to make some reference, if not an apology, for his outrageous behavior in- for his daring to- for, in short, the kiss. Not only did he remain silent, but he avoided me with a consistency that was little short of marvelous. In such close quarters we ought to have been much together, but whenever I entered the saloon it seemed that Emerson was just leaving, and when I strolled on the deck, admiring the silvery ripples of moonlight on the water, Emerson vanished below. Walter was of no use. He spent all his time with Evelyn. They did not talk, they just sat holding hands and staring stupidly into one another's eyes. Walter was a sensible chap. Evelyn's fortune would not keep him from happiness. Was it possible that Emerson…?
After two days I decided I could wait no longer. I hope I number patience among my virtues, but shilly-shallying, when nothing is to be gained by delay, is not a virtue. So I cornered Emerson on deck one night, literally backing him into a corner. He stood pressed up against the rail that enclosed the upper deck as I advanced upon him, and from the look on his face you would have thought I were a crocodile intent on devouring him, boots, bones, and all.
We had dined formally; I was wearing my crimson gown and I had taken some pains with my hair. I thought, when I looked at myself in the mirror that evening, that I did look well; perhaps Evelyn's flattery had not all been false. As I approached Emerson I was pleasantly aware of the rustle of my full skirts and the movement of the ruffles at my throat.
"No," I said, as Emerson made a sideways movement, like a crab."Don't try to run away, Emerson, it won't do you a particle of good, for I mean to have my say if I have to shout it after you as we run about the boat. Sit or stand, don't mind me. I shall stand. I think better on my feet."
Emerson squared his shoulders.
"I shall stand. I feel safer on my feet. Proceed, then, Peabody; I know better than to interfere with you when you are in this mood."
"I mean to make you a business proposition," I said. "It is simply this. I have some means; I am not rich, like Evelyn, but I have more than I need, and no dependents. I had meant to leave my money to the British Museum. Now it seems to me that I may as well employ it for an equally useful purpose while I live, and enjoy myself in the bargain, thus killing two birds with one stone. Miss Amelia B. Edwards has formed a society for the exploration of Egyptian antiquities; I shall do the same. I wish to hire you as my archaeological expert. There is only one condition -- "