Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [54]
A period of silence followed. Then came Carnarvon’s voice, sharpened by suspense. “Well? Can you see anything?”
I crept a little closer, trying to move quietly. I could make out their shapes, crowded close to the doorway. Callender’s bulky form almost hid the slimmer frame of Lady Evelyn. The other men stood next to them, so close that they resembled the shape of a single, monstrous creature.
“Well?” Carnarvon repeated. “Here…let me look.”
I think he gave Howard a shove. Howard fell back and Carnarvon took his place. A loud, wordless cry from Carnarvon finally aroused a response from Howard. “Wonderful! Marvelous things, wonderful things!”
I blush to admit that I so lost control of myself as to exclaim, “What?” However, my voice was drowned out by those of the others. Lady Evelyn had replaced her father and was emitting little shrieks; Callender kept bellowing, as I had, “What? What?” Carter and Carnarvon uttered broken ejaculations of disbelief.
Then came that magic word: “Gold!” It came from Lord Carnarvon. He was again looking in the hole, describing to the others in incoherent phrases what he saw. I listened for a few minutes and then crept quietly up the corridor. It was some time before Howard and the others returned to the top of the stairs.
All the world knows what they saw through that small hole; but the first impression was so overwhelming and, let me add, the view so limited, that it is no wonder their description was confused. Howard kept repeating, “Wonderful things! Marvelous things!” Lady Evelyn embraced her father and Howard alternately (and once hugged Ramses—I think by mistake). Eyes glazed, Carnarvon could only murmur the word “gold,” over and over.
When Emerson asked politely if we might have a look for ourselves, I don’t believe Lord Carnarvon heard him. Nor do I believe Emerson would have heard a refusal. Emerson and I, Nefret and Ramses therefore proceeded. We took it in turn to peer through the small opening, passing the torch from hand to hand.
At first glance it looked like Ali Baba’s cave, filled with a bewildering jumble of gleaming objects. It took a while for the eye to sort them out and for the trained mind to interpret them. From that first look I remember only the huge funerary couch, with the head of some fabulous beast, gilded and painted, on which rested various objects. Under it were piled boxes and pots.
The others had their turns. When we went up, Howard turned to Emerson with an eager “Well?”
“Remarkable,” said Emerson, stroking his chin. “You’ve months of work ahead of you, Carter. More, if there are other rooms beyond this one.”
He was the calmest of us all. Even Ramses’s normally composed countenance betrayed the wonder he felt. Lord Carnarvon had collapsed into a camp chair and was being fanned by his daughter.
“There must be other rooms,” Howard exclaimed. “There is another doorway.”
“I saw it,” said Emerson. “Naturally you will notify Engelbach before you do anything more.”
Howard’s bow tie was askew, his shirt streaked with dust, his hair standing on end. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. Notify. Tomorrow?”
“We will be happy to join you,” said Emerson graciously.
At Howard’s order, a wooden grille had been set in place at the beginning of the entrance corridor. We watched him close the padlock and then rode homeward. When we neared the house, to see its hospitable lights shining through the gathering dusk, Emerson roused himself from a brown study.
“I hope Fatima has put dinner back. I could do with a whiskey and soda.”
“It isn’t that late,” I said. “So much has happened that the day seemed longer than usual.”
We had missed tea. I deduced that the children had been taken off to bed, since the dog was not couchant in front of the door to the veranda. However, the seats in that room were occupied. Sethos was there, of course, his countenance bland as