The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [67]
It ended in both of us going. Emerson claimed he dared not let me out of his sight, but in fact he was as bored with our pitiful excavation as I was.
And of course one owes a duty to one’s fellow man—and woman.
As we rode across the desert, my spirits rose—not, as evil-minded persons have suggested, at the prospect of interfering in matters which were not my concern, but at the imminence of the exquisite Dahshoor pyramids. My spirits were bound to them by an almost physical thread; the nearer I came the gladder I felt, the farther I went the more that tenuous thread was stretched, almost to the point of pain.
The baroness’s dahabeeyah was the only one at the dock. We were led at once to the lady, who was reclining on a couch on deck, under an awning. She was wearing a most peculiar garment, part negligee, part tea gown, shell-pink in color and covered with frills. Sitting beside her was M. de Morgan, holding her hand—or rather, having his hand held by her.
“Ah, mon cher collègue,” he said with obvious relief. “At last you have come.”
“We only received the message a short time ago,” I said. “What has happened?”
“Murder, slaughter, invasion!” shrieked the baroness, throwing herself about on the couch.
“Robbery,” said de Morgan succinctly. “Someone broke into the salon last night and stole several of the baroness’s antiquities.”
I glanced at Emerson. Hands on hips, he studied the baroness and her protector with impartial disgust. “Is that all?” he said. “Come, Peabody, let us get back to work.”
“No, no, you must help me,” the baroness exclaimed. “I call for you—the great solvers of mysteries, the great archaeologists. You must protect me. Someone wishes to murder me—assault me—”
“Come, come, Baroness, control yourself,” I said. “Why was not the robbery discovered earlier? It is almost midday.”
“But that is when I rise,” the baroness explained guilelessly. “My servants woke me when they found out what had happened. They are lazy swine-dogs, those servants; they should have been cleaning the salon at sunrise.”
“When the mistress is slack, the servants will be lazy,” I said. “It is most unfortunate. Several of the possible suspects have already left the scene.”
De Morgan let out a French expletive. “Mais, chère madame, you cannot be referring to the people of quality whose dahabeeyahs were moored here? Such people are not thieves.”
I could not help smiling at this credulous statement, but I said only, “One never knows, does one? First let us have a look at the scene of the crime.”
“It has not been disturbed,” said the baroness, scrambling eagerly up from the couch. “I ordered that it be left just as it was until the great solvers of mysteries came.”
It was easy to see how the thieves had entered. The wide windows in the bow stood open and the cushions of the couch had been crushed by several pairs of feet. Unfortunately the marks were amorphous in the extreme, and as I examined them with my pocket lens I found myself wishing, for once, that Egypt enjoyed our damp English climate. Dry sand does not leave footprints.
I turned to my husband. “You can say what is missing, Emerson. I fancy you studied the antiquities even more closely than I.”
“It should be obvious,” said Emerson morosely. “What was last night the most conspicuous article in the room?”
The grand piano was the answer, but that was not what Emerson meant. “The mummy case,” I replied. “Yes, I saw at once it was no longer present. What else, Emerson?”
“A lapis scarab and a statuette of Isis nursing the infant Horus.”
“That is all?”
“That is all. They were,” Emerson added feelingly, “the finest objects in the collection.”
Further examination of the room provided nothing of interest, so we proceeded to question the servants. The baroness began shrieking accusations and, as might have been expected, every face looked guilty as Cain.
I silenced the woman with a few well-chosen words and directed Emerson to question the men, which he did with his usual efficiency. One and all denied complicity. One