The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [105]
“Two pieces of the puzzle,” said Emerson. “All we need now is a coffin.”
“It is destroyed—burned,” I said certainly. “This is the baroness’s mummy, Emerson.”
“I believe so, Peabody. As I watched the coffin burn the other night, I was struck by the fact that it was so quickly consumed, with little remaining except ashes. Certainly these mummified bodies, saturated with bitumen, burn readily, but there ought to have been some sign of its presence—a scrap of bone or the remains of an amulet. John—”
The young man jumped. His eyes were fixed in horrified fascination on the mummy. “Sir,” he stuttered.
“You put the mummy case in the storeroom. Did you notice any difference in the weight, compared to the ones you had handled before?”
“It was not so heavy as the others,” John said.
“Why the devil didn’t you say so?” I demanded.
“Now, Peabody, don’t scold the boy. He is not accustomed to handling mummy cases; one cannot expect him to realize that the fact was significant.”
“True. I apologize, John.”
“Oh, madam—” John broke off with a gulp. His eyes widened till the whites showed around the pupils. Emerson had picked up a knife and poised it over the breast of the mummy. “Oh, sir—oh, my goodness—sir—”
“I don’t want to disturb the pattern of the bandaging,” Emerson explained. “The fabric closest to the body is probably set in a solid mass anyway.” The muscles on his forearms stood out as he forced the knife through the layers of linen.
John yelped and covered his eyes with his hands.
“Hmmm,” said Emerson, cutting delicately. “Here’s one—a djed pillar in blue faience. The heart scarab should be nearby…. Yes, and a rather good specimen too. Green feldspar.”
“He is looking for amulets,” I told John. “Magical objects, you know. Quantities of them were wrapped in with the bandages. The djed pillar indicated stability, the heart scarab insured that the heart—the seat of the intelligence—would not be taken away by demons. These two amulets are almost always found in the chest area—”
“Don’t tell me about it, madam,” John begged, pressing his hands tightly over his eyes.
Emerson threw down the knife. “There is no need to dismember the specimen further. Doubtless we would find more amulets and ornaments—the lady appears to have been moderately well-to-do—but the point has been made, I believe.”
I nodded. “The mummy and its accoutrements are as unremarkable as the coffin. How very vexing! Come, come, John, Professor Emerson is finished; don’t stand there like a model posing for a statue of horror.”
John uncovered his eyes, but kept them resolutely turned away from the mummy. “I beg pardon, sir and madam. It was just—she looks so real, lying there like that.”
Now there seemed to be a look of mild reproach in the luminous dark eyes. I picked up a coverlet from the sofa and tossed it over the mutilated body. John let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, madam. May I take her back to the storeroom now?”
“‘It,’ not ‘she,’” Emerson said shortly. “You will never make an archaeologist, John, if you allow such bathetic thoughts to intrude.”
“Thank you, sir, but I don’t want to be an archaeologist. Not that it isn’t useful work, sir, I don’t say that; but I don’t think I ’ave the temperament for it.”
“I am afraid you are right, John. It is a pity you cannot emulate me. These are only specimens; they have no identity; one must regard them with calm dispassion and not allow sentimentality to affect one.” He had stretched out his hand to remove the portrait panel. For a moment his fingers hovered. Then he said, “Fasten it on, Amelia, or it will fall and be broken when the mummy is moved.”
It would have been simpler to return the panel to the padded box I had prepared for it, but I did not make that suggestion. I placed the padding carefully over the portrait and bound it in place with strips of cloth. Wrapping the coverlet around the mummy, John lifted it in his arms.
Lamp in hand, I accompanied him as he carried it back to the storeroom. If I may say so, the