The Curse of the Pharaohs - Elizabeth Peters [93]
It lay on its side, with its knees drawn up and its head back. The tendons in the bared throat looked like dried rope. One hand was so close to my shoe that I was almost treading on it. My hand was not as steady as it might have been; the tremor of the lantern I held made the shadows shift, so that the bent fingers seemed to clutch at my ankle.
I had seen photographs of Armadale, but if I had not known the body must be his I would not have recognized this ghastly face. In life the young man had been boyishly attractive rather than handsome, with a long, narrow face and delicate features that explained the Arabs’ nickname for him. He had attempted to conceal the almost feminine structure of his face with a cavalry-style mustache. This facial adornment was now missing. A heavy lock of brown hair concealed the eyes, and I cannot say I was sorry for that.
As I stood attempting to control the uncharacteristic tremors that passed through my frame, an eerie event occurred. From the shadows at the back of the cave, pacing with slow dignity, came the cat Bastet. She walked to the head of the corpse and sat down, ears pricked, whiskers bristling.
Abdullah’s increasingly agitated cries finally roused me from the paralysis that had taken hold of me. I called back a reassuring reply; and my voice, I think, was steady. But before summoning my faithful reis or the inquisitive young reporter, I knelt by the pitiful remains and made a brief examination.
The skull was intact and the visible parts of the corpse were without a wound. There was no blood. Finally I forced myself to brush the dry, lifeless hair from the forehead. No wound marred its tanned surface. But traced in flaking red paint was the rough sketch of a snake—the royal uraeus serpent of the pharaoh.
III
I cast a veil over the hour that followed, not, I assure you, because the memory is intolerable—I have had worse hours, many of them—but because so much happened in such a short time that a detailed description would be interminably long.
Removing Armadale’s body was not difficult, since we were only fifteen minutes’ walk from the house and our efficient reis had brought along materials with which to construct a makeshift litter. The difficulty arose from the reluctance of the men to touch the body. I knew both these persons well; in fact, I considered them friends of mine. Never before had I seen them daunted. Yet on this occasion it required all my eloquence to persuade them to do what was necessary; and as soon as the remains had been deposited in an empty storeroom the litter bearers fled as if pursued by fiends.
Ali Hassan watched them go with a cynical smile. “They will work no more in the accursed tomb,” he said, as if to himself. “Fools they may be, but they are wise enough to fear the dead.”
“A pity you don’t feel the same,” I said. “Here is your money, Ali Hassan; you do not deserve it, after playing us such a trick, but I always keep my word. Remember this: if you attempt to enter the tomb, or interfere with our work, I will call down the wrath of Sekhmet upon you.”
Ali Hassan burst into loud protestations, which did not end until Abdullah started toward him with his fist clenched. After the Gurneh man had left, Abdullah said gravely, “I go to talk to my men, Sitt. The robber is right; it will be hard to make them return to the tomb once this news gets out.”
“A moment, Abdullah,” I said. “I understand your reasoning, and agree with it; but I need you. I am going to the Valley. Emerson must know of this at once. It may be that Ali Hassan was delaying us in order to give his friends a chance to attack the tomb.”
“I’ll go with you,” O’Connell said.
“Is it the journalist speaking, or the gentleman?” I inquired.
A flush spread over the young man’s face. “I deserved that,” he said, with unusual humility. “And I confess that my reporter’s instincts yearn to observe the Professor’s reaction when you tell him the latest news. But that is not my reason for