The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [121]
The opening was now a glowing yellow. Something showed silhouetted against the light. I could not see Emerson, but I knew he was pressed against the wall, under the shaft. My fingers closed around the handle of my knife.
Then occurred the most astonishing event of that astonishing evening. A voice spoke—a voice I knew, pronouncing a name only one individual in all the world employs for me. So great was my wonderment that I stood erect, banging my head painfully on the rim of the sarcophagus; and in that same instant, as I reeled and tried to collect my wits, the light went out, a voice shouted in alarm and horror, and something splashed heavily into the water not far away.
My initial impulse was to rush into action. But reason prevailed, as I hope it always does with me. I knew from the sounds of splashing, cursing and heavy breathing that Emerson was doing all he could to locate the fallen object; my intervention would only impede his search. My first act, therefore, was to strike a match and light the candle which I anchored carefully in a pool of its own grease on the wide rim of the sarcophagus. Then and only then did I look to see whether Emerson’s quest had been successful.
He had risen from the water. In his arms was a muddy, dripping object. It moved; it was living. I groped for appropriate words.
“Ramses,” I said. “I thought I told you you were never to go into any more pyramids.”
Eleven
“You said I might go in if you and Papa were wit’ me,” said Ramses.
“So I did. Your reasoning is Jesuitical, Ramses; I see we will have to have a talk about it one day. However…” I stopped. Had Ramses emphasized, ever so slightly, the preposition “in”? As I explained earlier, the chambers and passages of pyramids are sometimes internal, sometimes subterranean. Surely not even Ramses’ diabolically devious mind would be capable of a distinction so Machiavellian…. I promised myself I must explore that suspicion at a more appropriate time.
“However,” I resumed, “I appreciate your motives, Ramses, and—Emerson, will you please put the boy down and stop babbling?”
Emerson interrupted his mumbled endearments. “I cannot put him down, Peabody. His mouth would be underwater.”
“That is true. Fetch him here, then. He can sit on the sarcophagus.”
I kept a precautionary hand on the candle when Ramses was set down beside it. He was a dreadful spectacle. A coating of dark mud covered him from head to foot. But I had seen him looking worse, and the bright eyes that peered at me from the mask of slime were alert and steady.
“As I was saying, Ramses, I appreciate your motives in coming to our rescue, as I suppose you intended. But I must point out that jumping into the pit with us was not helpful.”
“I did not jump, Mama, I slipped. I brought a rope, t’inking dere would be some point of attachment in de passageway by means of which I might be able to—”
“I follow your reasoning, Ramses. But if the rope is, as I suppose, down here with you, it cannot be of great assistance.”
“Dat was an unfortunate mishap,” Ramses admitted.
“My boy, my boy,” Emerson said mournfully. “I had consoled myself with the expectation that you would carry on the name of Emerson to glory and scientific achievement. Now we will all perish in one another’s—”
“Please, Emerson,” I said. “We have already discussed that. I don’t suppose it occurred to you, Ramses, to fetch help instead of rushing in where angels fear to tread?”
“I was in some haste and concerned for your safety,” said Ramses, swinging his feet and dripping. “However, I did leave a message.”
“With whom?” Emerson asked hopefully.
“Well, you see, de circumstances were confusing,” Ramses said calmly. “I had followed you when you slipped out of de house—I debated wit’ myself for some little time before doing so, but could not recall, Mama, dat you had specifically forbidden me to follow you and Papa when you slipped out of de—”
“Good Gad,” I said helplessly.