The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [72]
“A logical conclusion, Peabody. But, if you will forgive my mentioning it, the fact is not particularly useful.”
“I never said it was, Emerson.”
Emerson leaned back and crossed his legs. “I suppose you have fixed on Hamid as the burglar?”
“Are not the circumstances suspicious, Emerson? Hamid was on the scene when Abd el Atti met his death…. Oh, you need not wriggle your eyebrows at me in that supercilious fashion, you know what I mean—we can’t prove he was in the shop that night, but he was in Cairo, and he was involved in some shady negotiation with Abd el Atti. A few days later he turns up here, with some specious excuse about looking for work—and the baroness is robbed.”
“Weak,” said Emerson judiciously. “Very weak, Peabody. But knowing you, I am surprised you have not already put your suspect under arrest.”
“I have had time to reconsider my first impulse, Emerson. What good would it do to apprehend the man? As yet we have no physical evidence connecting him to either crime, and naturally he will deny everything. The most sensible course is to ignore him, and watch his every movement. Sooner or later he will do something criminal, and we will catch him in the act.”
“Watch him, Peabody? Follow him, you mean? If you think I am going to spend the night squatting behind a palm tree watching Hamid snore, you are sadly mistaken.”
“That is a difficulty. You need your sleep, Emerson, and so do I.”
“Sleep,” said Emerson, “is not the only nocturnal activity of which I do not mean to be deprived.”
“We might take it in turn,” I mused. “In a turban and robe I could pass for a man—”
“The activity to which I referred requires that both of us be present, Peabody.”
“My dear Emerson—”
“My darling Peabody—”
But at that point we were interrupted by Ramses, returning from the kitchen with the roasted chicken that had been prepared for us, and I had to mention several excellent reasons why it should be fed to us instead of to the lion.
ii
Emerson’s objections to our keeping a watch on Hamid, though frivolous, had merit. I therefore considered alternatives. The most obvious alternative was John, and when we returned to the dig after luncheon I was pleased to observe that he had carried out his responsibilities with skill and dedication. I had given him some instruction in the use of the camera; although we would have to wait until the plates were developed to be sure he had carried out the procedure correctly, his description of the method he had followed seemed correct. I took several more photographs to be on the safe side, and then our most skilled workmen were set to work clearing the graves. As the fragile and pitiful remains were carried carefully to the house I congratulated myself on our luck in having found such an admirable place. Never before, on any expedition, had I had enough storage space. Thanks to the old monks, I could now classify our finds in a proper methodical manner—pottery in one room, Roman mummies in another, and so on.
Hamid was working even more lethargically than usual. Naturally he would be tired if he had helped transport a weighty object the night before. Where the devil had he put the thing? I wondered. The mummy case was over seven feet long. Hamid was a stranger in the village, he had no house of his own. But there were hiding places aplenty in the desert—abandoned tombs, sunken pits, and the sand itself. Or the mummy case might have been loaded onto a small boat and carried away by water. There were many answers to the question of where it might have been hidden, but none to the most difficult question: Why take it in the first place?
Finally I reached a decision. “John,” I said. “I have a task for you—one requiring unusual intelligence and devotion.”
The young man drew himself up to his full height. “Anything, madam.”
“Thank you, John. I felt sure I could count on you. I suspect one of our workers is a vicious criminal. During the day he will be under my watchful eye, but at night I cannot watch him. I want you