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By Root 665 0

his absurd claim—that the mummy was that of a princely priest-magician, a servant of the great god Amon whom Pharaoh Khuenaten had toppled from his spiritual throne. The deposed god’s wrath found a vessel in his priest; through him, Amon had cursed the heretic city and anyone who set foot on its soil to resurrect it, forever. The villagers knew that none of them had made off with the mummy. Its disappearance could be accounted for in only one way; restored to the light of day, and animated by its discovery that new heretics were at work to uncover the accursed city, it had taken to its feet and left the camp. But it had not left the city—no, indeed. It walked by night, and on the previous midnight it had visited the village. Its moans had awakened the sleepers, and a dozen men had seen its ghostly form pacing the streets. The villagers were too wise not to heed the warning, which Mohammed helpfully interpreted: no more work for the infidels. They must leave Khuenaten’s unholy city to the desolation of the sands, and take themselves off. Unless they did so, the curse would be visited on them and all those who assisted them in the slightest way.

Emerson listened to this bizarre hodgepodge without the slightest change of expression.

“Do you believe this, Abdullah?” he asked.

“No.” But the foreman’s voice lacked conviction.

“Nor do I. We are educated men, Abdullah, not like these poor peasants. Amon-Ra is a dead god; if he could once curse a city, he lost that power centuries go. The mosques of your faith stand on the ruins of the temples, and the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer. I do not believe in curses; but if I did, I would know that our god—call him Jehovah or Allah, he is One—has the power to protect his worshipers against demons of the night. I think you believe that too.”

I had never admired Emerson more. He had taken precisely the right tone with his servant, and as Abdullah looked up at the tall form of his employer, there was a glint of amused respect in his dark eyes.

“Emerson speaks well. But he does not say what has become of the mummy.”

“Stolen.” Emerson squatted on his lean haunches, so that he and Abdullah were eye to eye. “Stolen by a man who wishes to cause dissension in the camp, and who has invented this story to support his aim. I do not name this man; but you remember that Mohammed was angry because I brought you in to be foreman instead of giving him the position. His doting father has not disciplined him properly; even the men of the village resent him.”

“And fear him,” Abdullah said. He rose to his feet in a single effortless movement, his white robes falling in graceful folds. “We are of one mind, Emerson. But what shall we do?”

“I will go down to the village and talk to the mayor,” Emerson said, rising. “Now go and eat, Abdullah. You have done well, and I am grateful.”

The tall foreman walked away, not without an uneasy look at Emerson. Evelyn glanced at me. I nodded. I had not wished to speak in front of Abdullah, but the time had come to tell my story. Before I could start, Walter burst out.

“What an incredible tale! You would think I should be accustomed to the superstitious folly of these people, but I am constantly amazed at their credulity. They are like children. A mummy, walking the village streets—could there by anything more absurd?”

I cleared my throat self-consciously. This was not a good prelude to the tale I was about to tell.

“It is absurd, Walter, but it is not imagination. The villagers are not the only ones to see the Mummy. Evelyn and I both saw such a shape here in the camp.”

“I knew you were hiding something,” Emerson said, with grim satisfaction. “Very well, Peabody, we are listening.”

I told all. I did not tell the story well, being only too conscious of Emerson’s sneer. When I had finished, Walter was speechless. My support came, unexpectedly, from Emerson himself.

“This proves nothing, except that our villain—and we have a good notion as to his identity, have we not?—has gone to the trouble of dressing up in rags and wandering around in order to frighten