“THE tomb of Senwosri,” announced the curator, in a voice that sounded solemn within the walls and low ceiling of the little room. “We keep the mummy case here because of its great value. The golden mask — the jeweled objects — all are in their place within the case. We keep it closed and strapped shut because of the value of its contents.”
“I should like to see the mummy itself,” remarked Sturgis Dilling. “I shall certainly be among the first to visit the new wing of your museum, Mr. Matson. I have been deeply interested in the history of Senwosri. He was the son of Amenemhe—”
“And the builder of the obelisk at Heliopolis,” added the curator, in a monotone. “He also erected the temple at Wadi Halfa. Confidentially, Professor Dilling, I am almost afraid to have so valuable a treasure here in my museum! The wealth within that mummy case rivals that of Tutankhamen’s tomb!
“The public does not realize the value of Senwosri’s coffin, for the publicity given to Carnarvaron’s discovery of Tutankhamen eclipsed the finding of Senwosri. There are Egyptologists, however, who know that the American expedition which unearthed this case and its sarcophagus did quite as creditable work as the British expedition which Lord Carnarvaron headed in the finding of Tutankhamen.”
“This is a strongroom,” observed Sturgis Dilling.
“Accessible only from the outer room,” declared the curator. “That fact has somewhat relieved my qualms. In the new wing, however, the tomb of Senwosri will have ample space for public display. We have made it a rule, however, to keep the mummy case closed until we have the proper arrangements for its protection.”
Professor Dilling was examining the painted, gold decorated surface of the mummy case. The curator added another comment.
“The straps,” he explained, “are simply to keep the case loosely shut. At first, we used to keep it in the stone sarcophagus. You will observe the padlocked bars that still encircle the stone container. I intend to remove those later. They serve no useful purpose.”
The old man looked at the sarcophagus. He turned and walked from the little room. The curator followed him and locked the door of the tomb.
Dilling was strolling about the outer room when the curator joined him. The old professor had laid his package and briefcase aside. He was displaying new interest in the Armsbury collection. Then he turned and pointed to the end wall of the room — opposite the door of the tomb.
“I was told,” he said, “that yonder space was reserved for a collection of mummies.”
“Yes,” acknowledged the curator. “They are a part of the Armsbury collection that has not yet been delivered. The mummy cases have been in temporary storage. They are not of great value, professor; nevertheless, they would interest you. They are virtually a gift from Armsbury — for we did not have the funds to purchase them.”
“Indeed,” remarked Dilling. “That is quite interesting, Mr. Matson. The attendant did not know just when the mummies were expected. He thought they would come on the fifteenth.”
“They are to be delivered on the fifteenth,” returned Matson. “Jove! That’s today, isn’t it? I had forgotten all about the matter.”
The curator paused to glance at his watch. The time showed twenty minutes of three.
“We close at three o’clock,” declared Matson. “Of course, the attendants and myself are here until five. The mummies will probably come in later in the afternoon. Should you come back tomorrow, Professor Dilling, you will find them on display.”
“Thank you, sir,” returned Dilling.
“I must leave you,” said the curator. “I have business in the office. I shall be pleased to meet you again, Professor Dilling.”
Handley Matson departed, leaving Dilling in the long room that housed the Armsbury collection of Egyptian antiquities.
THE old man moved about from case to case, mumbling to himself as he studied hieroglyphs that appeared upon various objects.
At times he paused to look at the windows. They were high above the floor and heavily barred. All the doors about the place were massive. The old man remembered the museum as he had seen it from the outside. The place was a formidable fortress.
Strolling about the room, Professor Sturgis Dilling allowed a thin smile to form upon his lips. He studied the door of the tomb of Senwosri. He looked toward the end of the room reserved for mummies of lesser value.
The afternoon was glum and a pall seemed falling within this room. The old man, stalking noiselessly here and there, seemed like some ghostly figure out of Egypt. He was the only occupant of the room. His presence here seemed forgotten. At last, the old man’s inspection of the antiquities was ended. He came to the door of the room and picked up his briefcase and package.
The attendant had gone from the outer hall. It was near the closing hour and the whole museum was silent. Then came the clang of a bell. Attendants called to one another through the corridor.
Shortly afterward, the uniformed man appeared and entered the room where Sturgis Dilling had been. He saw that the old man had left. He was about to close the outer door when another attendant called to him from the curator’s office.
“Keep it open, Jerry! Mummies coming in. Stick around until the truck arrives. Curator’s orders.”
The attendant nodded. He turned on the lights in the room and sat down to read a newspaper that he took from his pocket. An hour passed. The museum, closed and barred, was as silent as the shut tomb of Senwosri.
Then came the tramp of footsteps in a corridor. Attendants and truckmen appeared carrying heavy mummy cases. The man in the room which housed the Armsbury collection was on his feet, pointing out the spot where the cases were to go.
Fifteen minutes later, a row of mummy cases lined the end of the room. The heavy objects were standing upright; their painted faces made them appear like a squad of solemn sentinels. The moving men went out, accompanied by an attendant. The other attendants remained, making jests as they studied the row of new exhibits.
The mummy cases bore fastenings that had kept them intact during shipment. These would be removed in the morning. It was approaching five o’clock and the attendants seldom waited until that hour. They reported at eight in the morning — an hour and half before opening — and that was the period during which new exhibits were arranged for proper display.
“Curator says he’ll look over the mummies in the morning,” declared an attendant, coming from the office.
“Come on. He’s leaving. Time to close.”
The group passed along the corridors to the rear entrance of the museum. This was where the truck had delivered the mummy cases. The curator and his secretary passed from the museum; the attendants followed. A big watchman shut the heavy door and barred it.
The Egyptian Museum was closed until the morrow.
CHAPTER XVI. THE PILLAGERS
EVENING. Blackness pervaded the Egyptian Museum. The building was a whitened sepulchre within a blanketing pall. The glow of Manhattan did not visibly affect the secluded spot whereon the granite edifice stood.
Within the room which housed the Armsbury collection, thick blackness reigned below the dim stretch of high windows. The watchman’s electric lantern, glimmering in the darkness, flashed upon the solemn painted faces of the mummy cases. Then the man was gone upon his rounds.
A slight sound occurred in the end of the room. It came from one of the mummy cases. Something was working from within! Life was present inside that wooden shroud! Some prying force was pushing out the front; an instrument was at work upon the central band which held the case intact!