The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [78]
The girl was also disheveled but unmarked by fire. Her mousy brown hair tumbled over her shoulders and her face was flushed with excitement and embarrassment as she struggled to free herself from the brawny arms that clasped her. Her feet were bare. She wore a garment of voluminous cut and dismal color, dark blue or black, that covered her from the base of her throat to her ankles. It had long tight sleeves. A nightcap dangled from her neck by its strings.
“Please, ma’am, tell him to put me down,” she gasped.
“All in due time,” I assured her. “Now, John, you may tell me what has happened.”
“There was a fire, madam.”
“I deduced as much, John. Where was the fire?”
It is expedient to summarize John’s statement, which had to be extracted from him sentence by sentence. He had been hiding among the palms near the chapel when he had seen a tongue of flame rise from behind that edifice. His cries had aroused the men, and with their assistance he had succeeded in quenching the conflagration before it did much damage. No help had come from the village; indeed the place had remained suspiciously dark and silent, though the shouts of the missionaries must have been heard. A search of the area revealed no sign of the arsonist. The fire had been deliberately set, getting its start in a pile of dry branches and palm fronds heaped against the foundation of the little church. Once the flames were extinguished, John had seized the girl and carried her off.
“What the devil for?” cried Emerson, from the bed.
“To bring her to Mrs. Emerson, of course,” John replied, his eyes widening.
Emerson subsided with a curse. “Of course. Everyone brings everything to Mrs. Emerson. Lions, mummy cases, miscellaneous young ladies—”
“And quite right, too,” I said. “Pay no attention to Professor Emerson, my dear Miss Charity. He would welcome you with the kindness that is his most conspicuous characteristic were he not a trifle out of sorts because—”
“I beg you will not explain, Amelia,” said my husband in tones of freezing disapproval. “Er—hem. I am not objecting to the presence of Miss Charity, but to the invasion that will inevitably follow. Would it be too much to ask, Amelia, that the young person be removed so that I may assume my trousers? A man is at a decided disadvantage when he receives irate brothers and indignant lovers wrapped in a sheet.”
My dear Emerson was himself again, and I was happy to accede to this reasonable request. “Certainly, my dear,” I replied. “John, take the young lady to your room.”
The girl shrieked and resumed her struggles. “It is the only room fit for habitation that is presently available,” I explained, somewhat irritated at this excessive display of sensibility. “Wait a moment until I find my slippers and I will accompany you. Curse it, where are they?”
“Madam!” John exclaimed.
“You will excuse my language,” I said, kneeling to look under the bed. “Ah, here they are. Just as I suspected—Ramses has let the lion in the room, after I strictly forbade it.”
“Lion?” Charity gasped. “Did you say…”
“You see how they are chewed. I told that child…Dear me, I believe the girl has fainted. Just as well. Take her along, John, I will follow.”
The ensuing hour was a period of unprecedented confusion, but I recall it without chagrin; I rise to my true powers in periods of confusion. Ramses had been awakened by the noise. He and the cat and the lion followed us to John’s room, spouting questions (in the case of Ramses) and attacking the tatters of John’s robe (in the case of the lion). I ordered all three back to Ramses’ room, and after John had placed the girl on his cot, directed him to withdraw to the same location. The only one who refused to obey was the cat Bastet. Squatting on the floor by the bed, she watched interestedly as I sought