Walter sat upright and clapped his hands.

"Miss Amelia, you are a wonder. Of course! With four of us on guard- "

"Six of us," I said. "I think that is sufficient; mere is no need to bring the boat crew into this. I suggest that one of us watch the village. Mohammed must slip out in his disguise if he wants to haunt us, and since he is determined to get rid of us, he will probably pay us a visit tonight. The rest of us will lie in wait for him. Have you firearms?"

Evelyn let out a little cry of alarm.

Emerson's face underwent a series of silent convulsions. He said in a m.u.f.fled voice, "I do not have firearms. They are dangerous and unnecessary."

"Then we will have to use clubs," I said.

Emerson's lips writhed. "I can't stand this," he muttered, and sprang to his feet. As he walked away, I saw that his shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, and I realized he must be weaker than I had thought.

"Have a good rest," I called out after his retreating form.

"We should all sleep this afternoon, in order to be alert tonight."

Emerson's only response was a sort of muted roar. He disappeared into his tomb, and I turned to Walter, who was staring after his brother.

"He is weak with exhaustion, Walter. You had better- "

"No," said Walter. "I don't think so."

"What is wrong with him, then?"

Walter shook his head dazedly. "It is impossible... But if I did not know better, I would swear he was laughing."

The rest of the day proceeded according to plan- my plan. Evelyn finished her sketch of the pavement.

It was a lovely thing; she had caught perfectly the muted pastel shades of the original. I then sent her back to rest while I finished applying the protective coating. It was early evening before I was done, and when I returned to camp I found dinner underway. Thanks to my efforts, mere was a new spirit about the place. We were a small, reduced force, but we were united. Even Michael and Abdullah seemed cheerful and alert. Over dinner we made the rest of our plans.

Walter and Abdullah were to watch the village, with special attention to the mayor's house. Like all primitive groups, the village retired as soon as the sun went down. We did not expect any activity much before midnight, but the watchers were to take their places as soon as it was completely dark. Should Mohammed emerge, they were to follow him. He probably did not keep his mummy disguise in the house; Emerson felt sure that his father was not one of the plotters. The old man's fear had seemed genuine. Mohammed, then, would go to the spot- of which there were many in the crumbling cliffs-where he had concealed his costume, and a.s.sume it there. The watchers were not to interfere with him until they saw him actually in his disguise.

They would then apprehend him; one would hold him captive while the other ran to give us the news.

In a body bag we would haul the miscreant back to the village and expose his trickery.

On the remote chance that Mohammed was able to elude our gallant watchers, the rest of us prepared a second line of defense. Evelyn, with Michael to guard her, would retire to her chamber, though not to her bed, of course. From the doorway Michael would keep watch. Meanwhile, Emerson and I would take up our positions in his tomb chamber, which was some distance down the ledge from the one we ladies occupied. Any visitor would have to pa.s.s this door in order to reach Evelyn, who would thus be doubly protected. I must confess I felt a trifle uneasy on Evelyn's behalf. Mohammed's vile remark fit only too neatly with the mute evidence of the crumbled wrappings outside the door of the chamber where Evelyn slept

As soon as it was dark, Walter and Abdullah slipped away. I settled Evelyn, with Michael standing by; he was holding a long cudgel, and although he began to show signs of uneasiness as the mysterious dusk gathered, I felt sure he would use the club if anything threatened Evelyn. I did not expect such a necessity would arise. If the Mummy eluded the watchers at the village, Emerson and I would take care of him.

After a.s.suming a suitable costume, I crept along the ledge to Emerson's tomb. He was seated at the packing case that served as a desk, writing by the light of a lamp. When I slid stealthily into the chamber, he dropped his pen and stared. "Is this a masquerade party, Peabody? The Mummy will win first prize in any case; your old gypsy lady will not compete."

"Obviously dark clothing is necessary if I wish to be unseen," I replied, in some annoyance. "The black head scarf keeps my hair from flying about, and the dirt is necessary to darken the comparative pallor of my face and hands. I was about to suggest the same precautions for you. And put out the lamp, if you please."

"I will put out the lamp at the usual time," Emerson said coldly. "If someone is watching, we do not wish to alarm him by any deviation from our routine. I suggest you squat there in the corner, Peabody, where you will not be visible from the doorway. No one would ever believe, seeing you as you look just now, that I had invited you here, for- er- amorous purposes."

I did not think it worthwhile to dignify this remark with a reply. Giving him a haughty look, I went to my corner.

The ensuing hours dragged tediously. At first I amused myself by watching Emerson, who continued to write as if I had not been there. He needed a haircut. Despite his illness his hair was healthy-looking- thick and black and a little wavy where it curled over his collar. The movement of the muscles of his back, under his thin shirt, was interesting to a student of anatomy.

After a time this occupation palled. I crawled across to the packing-case table, this maneuver winning an irritable growl from Emerson, and took one of the books that was scattered on its surface. It was a volume on the pyramids of Gizeh, by a certain Mr. Petrie. I remembered hearing Emerson mention this young scholar, if not with approval- for Emerson did not speak of anyone with approval- at least without the invective he directed toward most other archaeologists, so I began to read with considerable interest. I could see why Emerson approved of Mr. Petrie. The meticulous care with which his measurements were carried out, checked, and re-checked was most impressive. He had totally disproved the mystical theories of the people who think the Great Pyramid to be a great prophecy in stone; and his description of the methods used by the ancients in cutting and shaping stones with the most primitive tools was convincing and interesting. So I read on, in the dim light, the silence broken only by the whisper as I turned a page, and by the scratch of Emerson's pen. I suppose I must have presented a curious figure as I squatted there in my dusty black skirt and cloak, with my dirty face bent over the tome.

Finally Emerson laid down his pen and rose. He yawned and stretched ostentatiously. Then, without so much as a glance in my direction, he blew out the lamp. Darkness obliterated every object. As my eyes gradually adjusted, I made out the open entrance, a square of sky glittering with stars.

Placing the book carefully on the table, I crawled to the doorway. A whisper from Emerson told me of his position; I took up my post on the other side of the door.

An even more boring period of time followed. I had no book with which to beguile my time, and Emerson did not seem inclined for conversation. I believed it was safe to whisper; we could see some distance, and would have seen an intruder long before he could have heard low voices. Nor did I really believe Mohammed would get this far. He had no reason to expect an ambush, and would be trapped by Abdullah and Walter as soon as he betrayed himself by a.s.suming his mummy attire.

But Emerson squelched my first attempt to discuss the theories of Mr. Petrie, so I did not try again.

The beauty of the night was unbelievable. I have never seen stars so thickly cl.u.s.tered as those that bestrew the night sky of Egypt; they blazed like a pharaoh's treasure against the dark. The cool, sweet air was as refreshing as water after a long thirst, and the silence was infinitely soothing. Even the distant howls of the jackals seemed fitting, a lonely cry that mourned the loss of past splendor.

I confess I was half asleep, leaning against the wall, when another sound broke the silence. I really did not expect it; I was so surprised and so stupid with sleep that I moved, and the brush of my sleeve against the stone sounded like an alarm. Emerson's arm moved in an abrupt warning gesture. My eyes were accustomed to the dark and the light from without helped me to see his movements; I was aware of the moment when his whole body stiffened and his head shifted forward as he stared.

From his side of the doorway he could see the far end of the ledge and the lower slope where the cooking tent, and the tent Abdullah occupied, were located. I saw the other end of the ledge, where it pa.s.sed Evelyn's tomb. There was nothing to be seen there, although I thought the curtain before the doorway was pulled back just a little, where Michael stood watch.

Emerson put out his hand. We understood one another that night without the need of words. I grasped his hand and took two slow, silent steps to his side.

The thing was there. Pale in the moonlight, it stood motionless, not on the ledge, but on the lower slope. This time the moon shone full upon it, and there could be no mistake as to its nature. I could almost make out the pattern of the bandaging across its breast. The featureless head was wrapped all around with cloth. It was bad enough to see mis monstrosity when it stood motionless; but as I watched, the head turned. Its slow, weaving movement was appalling, like that of an eyeless creature of the abyss blindly seeking some source of attraction even more alluring than light.

Emerson's hand closed over my mouth. I let it remain; I had been about to gasp aloud, and he had heard the inspiration of breath that warned him of my intent. Insanely, the Mummy seemed to hear it too, although I knew that was impossible. The blind head turned up, as if looking toward the ledge.

Emerson's fingers were ice cold; he was not so impervious as he pretended. And as the creature's right arm lifted, in a threatening gesture, Emerson's self-control broke. Releasing me so abruptly that I staggered, he bounded out onto the ledge.

I was at his heels. Secrecy was useless now. I called out a warning as Emerson, disdaining the ledge path, plunged over the edge and slithered down the slope amid an avalanche of sliding pebbles. It was an imprudent thing to do, in the poor light, and it received the usual consequences of imprudence. Emerson lost his footing, slipped, and fell headlong.

The Mummy was in full flight. I watched it for a moment; its lumbering, stiff-kneed stride attained unexpected speed. I knew I should not be able to catch it up; nor, to be honest, was I anxious to do so.

I followed the path down and picked my way through the fallen rocks to where Emerson was struggling to sit up. Evelyn and Michael were both on the ledge, calling out to me, and I shouted a brief synopsis as I went along.

"It was here; it has gone. Michael, don't come down. Don't stir from Miss Evelyn's side."

For, by this time, I was ready to grant the nocturnal horror any degree of slyness. This might be a diversion, to draw us away from its intended victim.

Why did I believe the creature meant to do more than frighten us? Emerson asked this very question, when we had all calmed down and were seated in his tomb discussing the event.

"I can't say for sure," I answered, in a tentative manner that was uncharacteristic of me. "In part, it is simply logic; for if we fail to be frightened by the mere appearance of the thing, it must resort to more drastic measures. Then there is Mohammed's statement- you recall, Emerson, when we went to the village- "

I had not told Evelyn of this, and I did not intend to. Emerson understood my reference, and nodded.

He was looking very grim; the bloodstained bandages around his brow and hands added to the warlike atmosphere of our council meeting.

"Yes, I recall. I think that was an empty threat, however; not even Mohammed would dare . . . Well, this has been a useless night. I will have something to say to young Walter when he wanders in; Mohammed diddled him and Abdullah very neatly."

"Should we not go out and look for them?" Evelyn asked anxiously. "Some accident may have befallen them."

"Not to both of them; that was why I sent two men, so that one might a.s.sist the other in case of misadventure. No, my two incapable friends are probably still hovering around the village waiting for Mohammed to come out. They may see him when he returns; but unless he has his disguise actually on his body, there is no use in apprehending him. No, Miss Evelyn, don't try to make me change my mind. Walter is perfectly safe, and we should only wander aimlessly in the dark if we went to search for him."

So far had the strangeness of our situation broken down formality that he actually addressed Evelyn by her first name. But then, I reflected in some surprise, we had all been informal, shockingly so. Several times, in the stress of emotion, I had so forgotten myself as to address Walter by his given name. I felt a genuine warmth toward the lad; it seemed as if I had known him a long time. Emerson, of course, could be called by no other name. His impertinence toward me did not allow me to address him respectfully, and I had no inclination to call him by his first name.

There was no sleep for us the rest of the night, although Emerson persuaded Evelyn to lie down on his cot. We had a long wait; the first streaks of dawn were red in the sky when the wanderers returned; and their astonishment, when they heard what had transpired, was equal to ours when we heard their report. Both were willing to swear that no one had left the village that night. Walter himself had watched the mayor's house, from an uncomfortable perch in a tree nearby. There was no possible way in which Mohammed could have been the Mummy.