Crocodile on the Sandbank - Elizabeth Peters [75]
“You mean to imply, Lord Ellesmere, that the miscreant saw Abdullah and myself. I assure you—”
“No, no, my dear fellow,” Lucas exclaimed. “I mean to imply that your friend Mohammed was warned in advance!”
There was a muffled exclamation from Emerson. It sounded to me as if he were strangling on an oath he did not dare speak aloud. Lucas took it for an expression of chagrin, and he nodded graciously at the older man.
“Yes; Michael. I am convinced that he has been in league with the villagers. No doubt they promised him part of the loot.”
“Loot!” Evelyn exclaimed, with unusual heat. “What reward could they offer, when they are so poor they cannot clothe their own children?”
“I see you have not reasoned it out,” Lucas said complacently. “Perhaps I can see more clearly because I am removed from the terror that has haunted you in recent days.”
“Enlighten us,” said Emerson, through his teeth. I saw them gleaming in the dark, like the fangs of a wolf.
Lucas leaned back in his chair. He stretched out his long legs and gazed admiringly at his boots.
“I asked myself,” he began, “what motive these people could have for driving you away. Malice is not a sufficient explanation; they need the money you were paying them. Does not the answer seem obvious to you? For generations these fellahin have been robbing the tombs of their remote ancestors. Their discoveries fill the antika shops of Cairo and Luxor, and you archaeologists are always complaining that whenever you find a tomb, the natives have been there before you. I suggest that the villagers have recently discovered such a tomb—a rich one, or they would not be so anxious to drive you away before you can find it.”
The explanation had occurred to me, of course. I had discarded it, however, and now I voiced the objections aloud.
“That would mean that all the villagers are in league with Mohammed. I do not believe that. If you had seen the trembling fear of the old mayor—”
“You ladies always trust people,” Lucas said. “These villagers are congenital liars, Miss Amelia, and expert at dissimulation.”
“If I really believed such a tomb existed, it would require an earthquake to make me leave,” said Emerson.
“Naturally,” Lucas said cheerfully. “I feel the same. All the more reason for catching our Mummy before he can do any serious damage.”
“If your explanation is correct, my lord, catching the Mummy will not solve the problem.” It was Walter who spoke. “According to you, the entire village knows that the Mummy is a fraud. Exposing him will not change their intention of forcing us to leave.”
“But it will give us a hostage,” Lucas explained tolerantly. “The mayor’s own son. We will force him to lead us to the tomb and then dispatch a message back to Cairo for reinforcements. Also, once we have exposed the supposed curse we may be able to enlist the crews of our boats to help guard the tomb. They consider the villagers savages; the only thing they have in common is their superstitious terror of the dead.”
“Another objection,” I said. “If Michael is a traitor— though I still find it hard to believe—he will have warned the village of our plans for tonight. The Mummy again will be on his guard.”
“What a splendidly logical mind you have,” Lucas exclaimed. “That is quite true; and it prompts my next suggestion. We must appear to be off our guard, and we must offer the Mummy a lure, in order to entice it into our clutches.”
“What sort of lure?” Walter asked suspiciously.
“I had not thought,” Lucas said negligently. “I have appeared to drink more than I really have, in order to give the impression that I will sleep heavily. I wish you two gentlemen had done the same, but evidently you failed to follow my reasoning. Have you any suggestions, along the lines I have indicated?”
Several suggestions were made. Walter offered to take up his post at some distance, and