Crocodile on the Sandbank - Elizabeth Peters [97]
He paused, cocking his head and peering at Lucas with quizzical blue eyes. Lucas flushed angrily.
“I deny the allegation!”
“The only alternative is to believe in the supernatural powers of the Mummy,” Emerson replied drily. “That I refuse to do. I will continue to seek a rational explanation until reason leaves me altogether; and unless one of you can suggest a motive, unknown to me, why any of us should be in danger….”
Again he paused, raking us in turn with his cool stare. No one spoke.
“No vendettas, nor feuds?” Emerson asked mockingly. “No desperate lovers, or enemies burning for revenge? Very well, then; we return to the only sensible explanation for all this; it was suggested, I believe, by his lordship. The villagers wish to drive us away from here because they have made a valuable discovery. I will not be driven away. It is as simple as that.”
I could not hope but be impressed by the man’s irrefutable logic. And yet in my innermost thoughts a strange uneasiness lingered.
“Then what do you propose that we do?” I asked.
“I propose that we take the aggressive,” Emerson replied. “So far we have not done so; we have been preoccupied with defending ourselves against fancied dangers. And that, I believe, is precisely what our opponents wish us to do. If the villagers can find a tomb, we can find it. Tomorrow I will begin searching. We will enlist the assistance of your crews. It will not be easy to do that; the men have been told by the villagers that we are under a curse. Yet I fancy that a judicious blend of flattery, appeal, and bribery will win them over. We must have sufficient manpower to protect the ladies and to conduct a thorough search. Well? What do you say? Is the scheme a good one?”
I had nothing to say. The scheme was a good one, but I would rather have died than admit it aloud. The others were clearly impressed. Evelyn’s somber face had brightened.
“Then you really believe that the Mummy is only trying to frighten us? That no one is in danger?”
“My dear girl, I am convinced of it. If it will make you feel safer, we will damn the conventions and spend the night huddled together in a single room. But I feel sure no such discomfort is necessary. Are we all agreed? Excellent. Then Peabody had better retire to her bed; she is clearly in need of recuperative sleep; she has not made a sarcastic remark for fully ten minutes.”
II
I thought I would not sleep. My mind was in a state of confusion such as I seldom permit in that organ; but on this occasion the methods I normally apply to resolve it were not effective. Something kept me from ratiocination. Mental fatigue, as well as physical exhaustion, finally sent me into heavy slumber, filled with bewildering fragments of dreams. The common theme of them all seemed to be light—bright beams of illumination that flashed on and then went out, leaving me in deeper darkness than before. I groped in the dark, seeking I knew not what.
It was such a beam of light that finally woke me. When the curtain at the mouth of the tomb was lifted, the rays of the setting sun struck straight into the shadowy gloom. I lay motionless, struggling against the bonds of sleep that still clung to me; my uneasy slumber had twisted the bedclothes about my limbs and loosened my hair from its net. Damp with perspiration, the thick coils weighted my heavy head.
Then I heard the voice. I did not recognize it at first; it was a harsh whisper, tremulous with fear and warning.
“Don’t move! For your life, remain motionless!”
The tones woke me like a dash of cold water. I opened my drowsy eyes. The first object to meet my gaze was a coil of what appeared to be thick brown rope, resting on the foot of my couch. As I stared, the coil moved. A flat head lifted from the mass; two narrow orbs, sparkling with life, fixed themselves on