The Earl eyed the table laden with food, because he couldn't stop himself, and the blossoms all but crowding out the sun above. He looked placidly at the man before him, who was certainly one of the handsomest creatures he'd ever seen. Downright beautiful, when you thought of it. The sort of large compassionate blue eyes that drive women mad. Add the ready smile and one has a near-fatal combination.
But the silence was becoming uncomfortable.
"Ah, the diary," Elliott said. He reached into his coat. Samir recognized it immediately, that was plain.
"This diary," Elliott said, "it belonged to Lawrence. It has valuable information on Ramses' tomb. Notes on a papyrus left by the man, it seems. I picked it up the other night. I must put it back."
There was a sudden coldness in Ramsey's face.
Elliott turned, leaning on his cane, and took a few painful steps toward Lawrence's desk.
Ramsey came along with him.
"The pain in your joints," Ramsey asked, "have you a modern ... a medicine for it? There was an old Egyptian remedy. The willow bark. One had to boil it."
'' Yes,'' Elliott answered, looking up again into those distracting blue eyes. "In this day and age we call it aspirin, don't we?" He smiled. This was going infinitely better than he had ever anticipated. He hoped the color wasn't dancing in his face as it was in Ramsey's. "Where have you been all these years that you haven't heard of aspirin, my dear man? We produce it synthetically, and of course you are familiar with that word.''
Ramsey's composure was unbroken, though he narrowed his eyes just a little as if he wanted the Earl to realize he was being appraised.
"I'm not a scientific man, Lord Rutherford," he answered. "I'm more an observer, a philosopher. So you call it aspirin. I am pleased to know it. Maybe I have spent too much of my time in distant lands." He raised his eyebrows almost playfully.
"Of course the ancient Egyptians had more potent medicines than willow bark, didn't they?" Elliott pushed it. He looked at the row of alabaster jars on the table across the room. "Potent medicines-elixirs, so to speak-which could cure more potent ailments than the pain I suffer in my bones."
' 'Potent medicines have their price,'' Ramses replied calmly. "Or shall I say, their dangers. But what an unusual man you are, Lord Rutherford. Surely you don't believe what you read in the notebook of your friend Lawrence.''
"Oh, but I do believe it. Because, you see, I am not a scientific man either. Perhaps, we are both philosophers, you and I. And I fancy myself something of a poet, because so much of my wandering has been in my dreams alone."
The two men looked at each other in silence for a moment.
"A poet," Ramsey repeated, eyes moving over Elliott almost rudely to take his measure. "I understand you. But you do say most unusual things."
Elliott tried to hold steady. He could feel the sweat breaking out under his shirt. The man's face was so unexpectedly open, and almost inviting.
"I should like to know you," Elliott confessed suddenly. "I. . . I should like to ... learn from you." He hesitated. The blue eyes fixed him in silence again. "Perhaps in Cairo or Alexandria we should have some time to talk to one another. Perhaps even on shipboard, we might become acquainted."
"You are going to Egypt?" Ramsey asked, cocking his head.
"Yes." Politely he moved past Ramsey, and into the drawing room. He stood beside Julie, who had just signed another bank draft for her uncle, which she placed now in his hands.
"Yes," Elliott said, turning back to Ramsey and speaking loudly enough for the others to hear him. "Alex and I are both going. I booked passage on the same ship, as soon as Julie called. We wouldn't dream of letting her go alone, would we, Alex?"
"Elliott, I told you no," Julie said.
"Father, I didn't realize ..."
"Yes, my dear," Elliott said to Julie, "but I couldn't take no for an answer. Besides, this may be the last time I see Egypt. And Alex has never been there. Surely you won't deny us the pleasure. Is there any reason why we should not all go?"
"Yes, I suppose I should see it," Alex said, by this time thoroughly confused.
"Well, your trunk's packed and on its way," Elliott said. "Come on, now, or we're all going to miss the boat, so to speak."
Julie was staring at him in a silent fury.
Ramsey gave a soft laugh behind him.
"So we all go to Egypt," he said. "I find this most interesting. We shall talk on board, Lord Rutherford, as you have said."
Randolph looked up after tucking the power of attorney into his coat.
"Well, that solves everything, doesn't it? Have a pleasant journey, my darling." He kissed his niece tenderly on the cheek.
* * *
The dream again, but he couldn't wake up. He turned over in Daisy's bed, into the scratchy lace pillow with its cloying perfume. "Just a dream," he murmured, "have to stop it." But he saw the mummy coming towards him, the long strips of darkened linen trailing from its shuffling feet. He felt the fingers lock on his throat.
He tried to scream, but he couldn't. He was suffocated, the smell of the filthy cerements choking him.
He turned over, thrashing at the bedcovers and suddenly striking out with his fist, only to feel fingers locked on it tightly.
When he opened his eyes, he saw his father's face.
"Oh, God," he whispered. He fell back on the pillow. The dream locked around him again for an instant, but he shuddered and stared again at his father standing over the bed.
"Father," he moaned. "What are you doing here?"
"I might ask you that question. Get out of that bed and get dressed. Your trunk's waiting downstairs, along with a cab to take you to the P and O docks. You're going to Egypt."
"The hell I am!" What was this, another stage of the nightmare?
His father removed his hat and took the bedside chair. When Henry reached for his cigar and matches, his father knocked them out of his hand.
"Damn you," Henry whispered.
"Now you listen to me. I have things in hand again and I intend to keep it that way. Your cousin Julie and her mysterious Egyptian friend are setting out for Alexandria this afternoon, and Elliott and Alex are going with them. Now you will be on that ship, too, do you understand? You are Julie's cousin, and therefore the only proper companion. And you will see that things remain seemly, that nothing intervenes to prevent Julie's eventual marriage to Alex Savarell. And you will see . . . you will see that this man, whoever he is, does not hurt my brother's only child."
"That man! You're mad if you think I'll-"
"And you are disinherited and penniless if you don't!" Randolph lowered his voice as he leaned forward. "I mean this, Henry. All your life I Ve given you everything you ever wanted. But if you don't toe the line now, and see this thing to the bloody end, I shall remove you from the board of Stratford Shipping. I shall terminate your salary and your personal income. Now you will be on that ship. And you will keep an eye on your cousin and see she doesn't elope with that revoltingly handsome Egyptian! And you will keep me posted as to everything that is going on."
Randolph removed a slim white envelope from his breast pocket. He laid it on the bedside table. There was a thick wad of money in the envelope. Henry could see that. His father rose to go.
"And don't wire me from Cairo that you're broke. Stay away from the gaming tables and the belly dancers. I shall expect a letter or a telegram within a week's time."
Hancock was beside himself.
"Left for Egypt!" he sputtered into the telephone. "But the whole collection is still there in that house! How could she do this!"
He motioned for silence to the clerk who meant to disturb him. Then he slammed down the black receiver in its hook. "Sir, the newspapermen are here again, about the mummy." "Oh, damn the mummy. That woman's gone off and left that treasure locked up in her living room, as if it were a collection of dolls!"