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By Root 1166 0

dawning affection, all that. No, she laughed at me, and it was a nasty little sound. She mocked me, and I looked away, looked at the two little dogs sitting on the white sofa with the green painted design of French country scenes: the milkmaid and her lover hand in hand in the woods. I looked at those dogs looking me in the eye curiously, while she just did not stop: I was nothing next to Ralph, I didn’t know anything, I was a fool and a monster and a bastard, a joke next to a man like Ralph, I wasn’t fit to say Ralph’s name, didn’t understand anything, I was less than a joke, I was pathetic and disgusting, and on and on. “A stupid Australian is what you are, Harry, you horrible ass. You spread these lies. You made Daddy do this. But your lies can’t ever touch a man like Ralph.” And on and on, crying and yelling, throwing pillows and dolls and glass things at me, repeating what a wonderful man her English murderer was, how loyal and true and English and noble, while I was a red-haired pygmy from the bush who deserved to be spit on by everyone. “And you love me? You make me sick, Harry.”

After a spell, I’d had my fill, and I walked out the door and I never saw your family again, Mr. Macy. Those dogs were still sitting on that painted sofa, still looking right at me when I left, never took their beady judge’s eyes off me the whole time. They say every hero has his weak heel, so there you are then. I only did what any man in my position would’ve done, trying to win her heart, you see, a girl like that. I was foolish, but that’s no crime.

I’ll drop this in the box to you now and hope for some sleep. You’re getting these, yes? I think I’d give up the ghost if they were lost in the mails, or sitting in an unread heap on your desk. I’d throw myself off the roof of this place, if I thought you weren’t hearing me.

Merry Christmas, Macy.

HF

Friday, 1 December, 1922

Journal: Spend morning moving my base from villa to Atum-hadu’s tomb, as intensive work approaches. Rental agent assists me in storing certain items in a shed. Hate to part from Maggie and the toms, but I will attempt to feed them as often as I can conveniently come back across the river. It is tempting to bring them with me to the west bank, but they have their hunting grounds here, I am certain, and I would not wish to disorient them.

Work to improve the door Amr made. I use adhesives to cover its front with rocks and sand, and cut it until it fits snugly and invisibly, flush into the tomb’s opening. Efficient, inexpensive protection! Also, the former Door A, lying on its crushed cylinders, was unfortunately likely to attract tomb-robbers, tourists, other unwanted attention, so it had to be sacrificed, not a significant loss.

Summation of our finds in the History Chamber: The ornamentation covering from floor to ceiling the walls and pillars of the History Chamber is preserved in astounding condition. Every imaginable surface is covered with text and illustration. The text is the highest quality hieroglyphs, all written—to my trained eye—by the same hand. If I may speculate further, I would say that this hand belonged to a scribe of impeccable intelligence, but perhaps not one who came through the recognised academic training of the day.

The walls’ hieroglyphs include passages from the Admonitions, extinguishing any smouldering doubt that (a) Atum-hadu existed and reigned; (b) he is the author of the Admonitions; (c) this is his tomb, or was intended as such. A triple crown, certain to move Carnarvon to a quick decision to finance further explorations at this site, or other likely sites nearby.

And, if the accompanying illustrations are not of the highest artistic accomplishment, if their composition is unwieldy, if the faces are not as iconic as one would expect from ancient Egyptian tomb-painting, if the animals are not easily distinguishable from furniture, if here and there the paint seems to have smeared or dribbled down the unforgiving tomb walls, if the artist was not apparently even trained as an artist, well, one can only say that the rough