The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [103]
“Can you remember what items from Ramses’ list were missing?” I asked. “Not that it would necessarily prove anything; Abd el Atti might have sold them during the afternoon.”
“True.” Emerson looked at the list.
“I don’t remember seeing any mummy cases,” I said.
Emerson threw the list across the room. The cat Bastet pounced on it and batted it back and forth. “I do not want to talk about mummy cases, Peabody!”
“Yet dey continue to intrude, do dey not?” Ramses said. “I believe we must consider de mummy case of de baroness as vital to de solution. Until we can explain dat, we are at sea.”
“I agree, Ramses,” I said. “And I have an idea.”
Ramses slid down off his chair and went to retrieve the list from Bastet. Emerson looked off into space. Neither asked me to explain my idea; so I proceeded.
“We have concluded, have we not, that someone has found treasure at Dahshoor and hopes to find more.”
Emerson shook his head. “A possibility only, Peabody.”
“But when you have eliminated de impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be de trut’,” said Ramses, returning to his chair.
“Very good, Ramses,” exclaimed his father. “How pithy you are becoming.”
“It is not original, Papa.”
“Never mind,” I said impatiently. “Gold and jewels are sufficient causes of violence, as the history of mankind unhappily demonstrates; but a commonplace mummy case is not. But what, I ask, is a mummy case?” I paused for effect. My husband and son regarded me in stony silence. “It is a container,” I cried. “Normally it contains a human body, but what if this mummy case were used as a hiding place for small, stolen antiquities? The baroness would have taken it away with her, out of the country, and it is most unlikely that the authorities would have inspected it. She purchased her antiquities openly and no doubt has the proper papers.”
“That explanation had of course occurred to me,” said Emerson, stroking his chin. “But why did the thieves steal the mummy case back from her if they meant her to smuggle their stolen goods out of the country?”
“Because we were interested in it,” I explained. “Don’t you see, Emerson? The baroness is a woman of volatile and impetuous character and she was trying to make an impression on you. She offered the mummy case to you upon one occasion; though she spoke half in jest, there was a chance she might have gone through with the plan. The thieves had to retrieve it. They extracted the stolen goods and destroyed the mummy case, having no more use for it.”
“I perceive several difficulties wit’ dat explanation, Mama,” said Ramses.
“Hush, Ramses.” Emerson pondered. “If that idea is correct, Peabody, the baroness cannot be the Master Criminal.”
“I suppose you are right, Emerson.”
“Cheer up, Peabody, it is only an idea. We may yet think of something that proves the baroness guilty.” Emerson grinned at me.
“The baroness was only one of our suspects,” I replied. “Several of the others were present that evening, when the baroness offered you the mummy case. Or one of the servants—if he was in the pay of the Master Criminal he could have warned his superior that the hiding place was no longer safe.”
“But who is that unknown superior? (If you have no objection, Peabody, I prefer that term to ‘Master Criminal,’ which smacks too strongly of the type of sensational literature to which I object.) Our deductions may be valid so far as they go, but we are still in the dark as to the identity of the person who is behind all this.”
“We will catch him, Emerson,” I said reassuringly. “We have never failed yet.”
Emerson did not reply. Ramses sat swinging his feet—one bare, one enclosed in a red morocco slipper—and looking pensive. After an interval Emerson said, “We may as well give it up for the time being. Off to bed, my boy; it is very late. I regret having kept you from your rest.”
“Dere is no need to apologize, Papa. I found de discussion most stimulating. Good night, Mama. Good night, Papa. Come along, de cat Bastet.”
We replied in kind—Emerson and I in words, Bastet by falling in behind Ramses