The Curse of the Pharaohs Read Free Page B

to Papa. But first, perhaps Lady Harold would like to see it."
    With a sweeping gesture, I indicated the lady.
    If she had not been so stupid, she might have thought of a way of diverting Ramses. If she had not been so fat, she might have moved out of the way. As it was, all she could do was billow and shriek and sputter. Her efforts to dislodge the nasty thing (it was very nasty, I must admit) were in vain; it lodged in a fold of her voluminous skirt and stayed there.
    Ramses was highly affronted at this unappreciative reception of his treasure.
    "You will dwop it and bweak it," he exclaimed. "Give it back to me."
    In his efforts to retrieve the bone he dragged it across several more square yards of Lady Harold's enormous lap. Clutching it to bis small bosom, he gave her a look of hurt reproach before trotting out of the room.
    I will draw a veil over the events that followed. I derive an unworthy satisfaction from the memory, even now; it is not proper to encourage such thoughts.
    I stood by the window watching the carriages splash away and humming quietly to myself while Rose dealt with the tea-things and the trail of mud left by Ramses.
    "You had better bring fresh tea, Rose," I said. "Professor Emerson will be here shortly."
    "Yes, madam. I hope, madam, that all was satisfactory."
    "Oh, yes indeed. It could not have been more satisfactory."
    "I am glad to hear it, madam."
    "I am sure you are. Now, Rose, you are not to give Master Ramses any extra treats."
    "Certainly not, madam." Rose looked shocked.
    I meant to change my frock before Emerson got home, but he was early that evening. As usual, he carried an armful of books and papers, which he flung helter-skelter onto the sofa. Turning to the fire, he rubbed bis hands briskly together.
    "Frightful climate," he grumbled. "Wretched day. Why are you wearing that hideous dress?"
    Emerson has never learned to wipe his feet at the door. I looked at the prints his boots had left on the freshly cleaned floor. Then I looked at him, and the reproaches I had meant to utter died on my lips.
    He had not changed physically in the years since we were wed. His hair was as thick and black and unruly as ever, his shoulders as broad, his body as straight. When I had first met him, he had worn a beard. He was now clean-shaven, at my request, and this was a considerable concession on his part, for Emerson particularly dislikes the deep cleft, or dimple, in his prominent chin. I myself approve of this little flaw; it is the only whimsical touch in an otherwise forbiddingly rugged physiognomy.
    On mat day his looks, manners, and speech were as usual. Yet there was something in his eyes.... I had seen the look before; it was more noticeable now. So I said nothing about his muddy feet.
    "I entertained Lady Harold this afternoon," I said in answer to his question. "Hence the dress. Have you had a pleasant day?"
    "No."
    "Neither have I."
    "Serves you right," said my husband. "I told you not to do it. Where the devil is Rose? I want my tea."
    Rose duly appeared, with the tea tray. I meditated, sadly, on the tragedy of Emerson, querulously demanding tea and complaining about the weather, like any ordinary Englishman. As soon as the door had closed behind the parlormaid, Emerson came to me and took me in his arms.
    After an interval he held me out at arm's length and looked at me questioningly. His nose wrinkled.
    I was about to explain the smell when he said, in a low, hoarse voice, "You are particularly attractive tonight, Peabody, in spite of that frightful frock. Don't you want to change? I will go up with you, and—"
    "What is the matter with you?" I demanded, as he... Never mind what he did, it prevented him from speaking and made it rather difficult for me to speak evenly. "I certainly don't feel attractive, and I smell like moldy bone. Ramses has been excavating in the compost heap again."
    "Mmmm," said Emerson. "My darling Peabody..."
    Peabody is my maiden name. When Emerson and I first met,