Parker Pyne Investigates - Agatha Christie [56]
He bowed to Doctor Carver who, as seemed usual with him, was once more far away. He was fiddling with a little object in his hand.
‘Eh?’ he roused himself. ‘No, I must admit I don’t covet large pearls. Money is always useful, of course.’ His tone put it where it belonged. ‘But look at this,’ he said. ‘Here is something a hundred times more interesting than pearls.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a cylinder seal of black haematite and it’s got a presentation scene engraved on it–a god introducing a suppliant to a more enthroned god. The suppliant is carrying a kid by way of an offering, and the august god on the throne has the flies kept off him by a flunkey who wields a palm-branch fly whisk. That neat inscription mentions the man as a servant of Hammurabi, so that it must have been made just four thousand years ago.’
He took a lump of Plasticine from his pocket and smeared some on the table, then he oiled it with a little vaseline and pressed the seal upon it, rolling it out. Then, with a penknife, he detached a square of the Plasticine and levered it gently up from the table.
‘You see?’ he said.
The scene he had described was unrolled before them in the Plasticine, clear and sharply defined.
For a moment the spell of the past was laid upon them all. Then, from outside, the voice of Mr Blundell was raised unmusically.
‘Say, you niggers! Change my baggage out of this darned cave and into a tent! The no-see-ums are biting good and hard. I shan’t get a wink of sleep.’
‘No-see-ums?’ Sir Donald queried.
‘Probably sand flies,’ said Doctor Carver.
‘I like no-see-ums,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘It’s a much more suggestive name.’
II
The party started early the following morning, getting under way after various exclamations at the colour and marking of the rocks. The ‘rose-red’ city was indeed a freak invented by Nature in her most extravagant and colourful mood. The party proceeded slowly, since Doctor Carver walked with his eyes bent on the ground, occasionally pausing to pick up small objects.
‘You can always tell an archaeologist–so,’ said Colonel Dubosc, smiling. ‘He regards never the sky, nor the hills, nor the beauties of nature. He walks with head bent, searching.’
‘Yes, but what for?’ said Carol. ‘What are the things you are picking up, Doctor Carver?’
With a slight smile the archaeologist held out a couple of muddy fragments of pottery.
‘That rubbish!’ cried Carol scornfully.
‘Pottery is more interesting than gold,’ said Doctor Carver. Carol looked disbelieving.
They came to a sharp bend and passed two or three rockcut tombs. The ascent was somewhat trying. The Bedouin guards went ahead, swinging up the precipitous slopes unconcernedly, without a downward glance at the sheer drop on one side of them.
Carol looked rather pale. One guard leaned down from above and extended a hand. Hurst sprang up in front of her and held out his stick like a rail on the precipitous side. She thanked him with a glance, and a minute later stood safely on a broad path of rock. The others followed slowly. The sun was now high and the heat was beginning to be felt.
At last they reached a broad plateau almost at the top. An easy climb led to the summit of a big square block of rock. Blundell signified to the guide that the party would go up alone. The Bedouins disposed themselves comfortably against the rocks and began to smoke. A few short minutes and the others had reached the summit.
It was a curious, bare place. The view was marvellous, embracing the valley on every side. They stood on a plain rectangular floor, with rock basins cut in the side and a kind of sacrificial altar.
‘A heavenly place for sacrifices,’ said Carol with enthusiasm. ‘But my, they must have had a time getting the victims up here!’
‘There was originally a kind of zigzag rock road,’ explained Doctor Carver. ‘We shall see traces of it as we go down the other way.’
They were some time longer commenting and talking. Then there was a tiny chink, and Doctor Carver said: ‘I believe you dropped your earring again, Miss Blundell.’
Carol