The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [86]
The conversation turned to de Morgan’s discoveries, and Emerson sat chewing his lip in silent aggravation. “There is no doubt,” said the Reverend Sayce, “that the southern brick pyramid was built by King Amenemhet the Third of the Twelfth Dynasty. De Morgan has found a number of fine private tombs of that period. He has added volumes to our knowledge of the Middle Kingdom.”
“How nice,” I said.
Conversation languished thereafter. Not even the reverend had the courage to ask Emerson how his work was progressing. Finally Mr. Wilberforce said, “To tell the truth, my friends, we had a particular reason for calling. We have been a trifle concerned for your safety.”
Emerson looked offended. “Good Gad, Wilberforce, what do you mean? I am perfectly capable of protecting myself and my family.”
“But a number of alarming events have occurred in your neighborhood,” Wilberforce said. “We heard of the burglary of the baroness’s dahabeeyah. The day before we left Cairo we met Mr. David Cabot, who told us of the attack on the mission.”
“Hardly an attack,” Emerson said. “Some malcontent had set a fire behind the chapel; but even if that edifice had been totally destroyed, which was unlikely, no harm would have come to anyone.”
“Still, it is an ominous sign,” Sayce said. “And Mr. Cabot admitted there is growing animosity among the villagers.”
“Have you met Brother Ezekiel?” Emerson inquired.
Wilberforce laughed. “I take your point, Professor. If I were inclined toward arson, his is the first establishment I would set a match to.”
“It is not a joking matter, Wilberforce,” the reverend said gravely. “I have no sympathy for the creed or the practices of the Brothers of Jerusalem, but I would not like to see any of them injured. Besides, they give all Christian missionaries a bad name with their tactless behavior.”
“I think you overestimate the danger, gentlemen,” Emerson replied. “I am keeping an eye on the situation, and I can assure you no one will dare make a hostile move while I am on the scene.” His large white teeth snapped together as he concluded. Sayce shook his head but said no more.
Shortly thereafter the two gentlemen rose to depart, claiming they must make an early start. Not until they were at the door, hats in hand, did Sayce clear his throat and remark, “There is one other little matter I meant to discuss with you, Mrs. Emerson. It almost slipped my mind; such a trivial thing…. That bit of papyrus you showed me—do you still have it?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Might I prevail upon you to part with it? I have been considering the part of the text I managed to translate, and I believe it may hold some small interest to a student of biblical history.”
“To be honest, I would not be able to put my hand on it just at the moment,” I admitted. “I have not had occasion to look at it since we left Cairo.”
“But you do have it?” The reverend’s tone was oddly intense.
“Yes, to be sure. It is somewhere about.”
“I would not want to trouble you—”
“Then don’t,” said Emerson, who had been watching the little man curiously. “You don’t expect Mrs. Emerson to turn out all her boxes and bags at this hour of the night, I suppose.”
“Certainly not. I only thought—”
“Look in again on your way upriver,” Emerson said, like a genial host suggesting a call, “when you are in the neighborhood. We will try to locate the scrap and then consider your request.”
And with this the reverend had to be content, though he did not look pleased.
We stood in the door watching our visitors ride away. Stars spangled the heavens in glorious abandon and the desert lay silver under the moon. Emerson’s arm stole around my waist. “Peabody.”
“Yes, my dear Emerson?”
“I am a selfish brute, Peabody.”
“My dear Emerson!”
Emerson drew me inside and closed the door. “Though thwarted in your heart’s desire, you defend me nobly. When you told de Morgan the other day that you doted on Roman mummies, I could hardly contain my emotion.”
“It is kind of you to say so, Emerson. And now, if