It didn't take Winthrop long to complete his rather brutal assault on the seal, and a minute or two later he had resumed his position opposite Blake as they prepared to lift the lid. Purefoy edged closer, anxious to get a good view of whatever they would find inside.
Winthrop grunted as he wedged his fingers underneath the rim of the seal. There was a splintering crack, fol owed by a loud sigh, as the two men heaved the lid free of the base. They placed it hastily on the table. Dust plumed into the air from within the shell of the casket, undisturbed for mil ennia. Purefoy wrinkled his nose. There was a dry odour from within the wooden coffin: the scent of ancient, foetid decay.
The four men from the expedition hurried forward to crowd around the casket, and Purefoy found it hard to see what was going on as they gestured to one another excitedly, clearly animated by their find. He edged around the table, feeling uncomfortable as the press of people behind him became more pronounced, each of the guests straining to see over the others. When he did finally manage to get a good look, he nearly gasped aloud with surprise. The contents of the casket were magnificent. Another coffin, decorated in shimmering black and gold, lay inside the outer shell like a Russian doll, perfectly designed to fit within the larger casing. The decoration was impeccable: beneath the thin layer of dust it was so bright and glassy it could almost have been new. The inner coffin itself had been carved out of a dark hardwood and inlaid with generous bands of bright, yellow gold. The face seemed slimmer and more feminine than the visage on the outer casket, and its eyes had been set with deep red gemstones that reflected the warm glow of the gas lamps. Once again, the torso was covered in a spidery pattern of white hieroglyphs and symbols that, to Purefoy, seemed as exotic as the entire experience of being there, in the drawing room of the grand house, watching the scene unfold before his eyes. He was more than a little awed by the experience.
He glanced at Newbury, who was leaning over the casket studying the ancient markings. He looked thoughtful. Purefoy was just about to ask him what had caught his attention when Winthrop stepped back from the table and clapped his hands together to garner attention. "Lords, ladies and gentlemen! You are in the presence of a truly magnificent find!" Winthrop's excitement was clearly genuine. "The inner casket is like nothing we could have expected. The black and gold decoration is highly irregular. Please, take a moment to enjoy the sight before we continue with our unrol ing." He urged the others back from the edge of the table and waved a handful of people forward to take a look. Blake and the other two members of the expedition – Purefoy considered he would have to elicit their names by the end of the evening for his article – moved away reluctantly and stood off to one side, whispering to one another with some urgency, as many of the guests came forward to peer into the open casket of the dead man.
Purefoy caught Newbury's attention, keeping his voice low. "So, tell me, Sir Maurice, do you know if this is quite as irregular as Lord Winthrop has cause to make us believe?"
Newbury furrowed his brow. "Indeed so. It's quite the most singular casket I've ever seen. The black and gold decoration is most unusual. And the fact that the occupant has been rendered anonymous, by virtue of the complete absence of any cartouches bearing his name on the inner or outer caskets, is particularly strange. There's certainly nothing like it in the annals of the British Museum." He smiled. "Didn't I tell you we were in for a surprise?"
Purefoy nodded. "I can't deny it." He looked around. People were beginning to mil around amongst themselves once again, and the hubbub of chatter had noticeably increased. Newbury had been right; most of the people in the room had feigned a minimal amount of interest in the contents of the casket, but left to their own devices had reverted to conversing with their neighbours. He searched for Winthrop, and eventual y spotted the lord by the fireplace, deep in the middle of a heated discussion with Blake.
Newbury leaned closer, smoothing the front of his jacket distractedly. "I suspect this has thrown them into something of a quandary." He nodded in the direction of the bickering men, who were still dressed in their leather smocks and bizarre headgear. "I'd wager that Blake wants to halt proceedings so that they may spend a little more time making a study of the inner casket, whilst Winthrop is anxious to give his guests a good show. If I know anything at all about the man, he'll make a point of continuing with the performance."
"Yes, I rather think he'd prefer to destroy the thing than al ow his guests to leave unsatisfied."
"Well, Mr. Purefoy. I do believe you have the measure of the situation. I wonder. Do you -"
"Well, really, Winthrop! This is unbearable. I shall have no further part in it!" Newbury was cut off abruptly when Wilfred Blake, raising his voice above the din, exploded at Winthrop, who was now leaning against the fireplace, his face unreadable behind the mechanical spectacles which he
'still wore over his eyes. The room was silent as Blake, his shoes clicking loudly on the tiled floor, turned about and made a hasty exit from the drawing room, his disagreement with Winthrop apparent to everyone in the room.
Winthrop stepped forward, his hands wide apart in a placating gesture. "Let us continue with the task in hand. Arthur?" He beckoned to one of the other men, who readily stepped forward to adopt Blake's place. Winthrop turned to the sea of faces. "We shal now extract the inner casket from the outer shell, before exposing the mummified remains of the king inside."
The two men closed on the casket base and, reaching inside, fumbled around until they had a grip on the snugly fit inner coffin. Their eyes met, and Winthrop counted to three before wheezing with the strain as they lifted the weighty coffin out of its former resting place. There was a collective gasp from the audience as the true magnitude of the casket's beauty became evident. The two men careful y laid the object on the table beside the base, and then set about making themselves some more room to work by replacing the outer lid on the base and moving the larger casket to a spot on the floor behind them.
Winthrop ran his hands gently over the top of the coffin. There was no denying how impressive it was. The thing seemed to radiate an aura all of its own, capturing the attention – and the imagination, Purefoy assumed – of the assembled guests, many of whom had forgotten their idle conversations and were now watching with apparent interest.
Winthrop looked up at Arthur. "Are you ready?"
Arthur nodded.
They both ran their fingers along the seal between the coffin lid and base. Then, with a brief glance at the gathered crowd, Winthrop slid his fingers into the gap and together the two men lifted the lid. This time it came away easily, and Purefoy found he was holding his breath, transfixed.
In truth it came as something of an anti-climax after the grandeur of their earlier find. As Winthrop and his man laid the casket lid carefully to one side, Purefoy was able to see into the coffin. There, amongst a bed of decayed reeds, was a human figure, bound in yel owing linen bandages, only the very tips of its claw-like fingers exposed for the world to see. The bandages were covered in an archaic scrawl that Purefoy did not recognise, black, faded runes that appeared to have been inked onto the linen before the body was wrapped.
Winthrop took no time to ponder his next move, or to concern himself with any sense of decorum that Purefoy felt may have been appropriate in the handling of the dead. He reached directly into the coffin and scooped out the withered body, fetching it up into his arms and then, as Arthur moved the coffin shel out of the way, placing it down upon the tabletop. He turned to Purefoy, smiling. "Now, let us see how our ancient king exited this world."
Taking up the same blade he had used earlier to break his way into the outer casket, Winthrop made a slit into the wrappings along the right side of the mummy. Then, taking up a fistful of bandages, he began to peel away the layers, discarding the wrapping casually to the floor. Purefoy was appalled, and almost started forward to challenge the lord in his mistreatment of the ancient artefact, but remembered himself at the last moment and was able to bite his tongue. Layers of crumbling linen fell away.