The Mummy Case Read Free Page A

again.) At the age of three Ramses had informed us that he did not need a nanny and would not have one. Emerson agreed with him. I did not agree with him. He needed something—a stout healthy woman who had trained as a prison wardress, perhaps—but it had become more and more difficult to find nannies for Ramses. Presumably the word had spread.
    When we went in to dinner I saw that Ramses' imminent return had been accepted as fact. Wilkins' face bore the look of supercilious resignation that constitutes his version of sulking, and John, the footman, was beaming broadly. Like Rose, he is unaccountably devoted to Ramses.
    I had long since resigned myself to the impossibility of teaching Emerson the proper subjects of conversation before the servants. Wilkins is not resigned; but there is nothing he can do about it. Not only does Emerson rant on and on about personal matters at the dinner table, but he often consults Wilkins and John. Wilkins has a single reply to all questions: "I really could not say, sir." John, who had never been in service before he came to us, had adapted very comfortably to Emerson's habits.
    That evening, however, Emerson sipped his soup and made banal remarks about the weather and the beauty of the roses. I suspected he was up to something; and sure enough, as soon as John had retired to fetch the next course, he said casually, "We must make plans for our winter campaign, Peabody. Will you be taking your maid?"
    Neither of us has ever taken a personal attendant on our expeditions. The very idea of Rose, in her neat black frock and ruffled cap, crawling in and out of a tent or pitching a camp cot in an abandoned tomb, was preposterous. I reminded Emerson of this, which he knew as well as I did.
    "You may do as you like, of course," he replied. "But I believe that this year I may require the services of a valet. John—" for the young man had returned with the roast beef, "how would you like to go with us to Egypt this year?"
    Wilkins rescued the platter before much of the juice had dripped onto the floor. John clasped his hands. "What, sir? Me, sir? Oh, sir, I would like it above all things. D'you really mean it, sir?"
    "I never say anything I don't mean," Emerson shouted indignantly.
    "Have you taken leave of your senses?" I demanded.
    "Now, now, Mrs. Emerson—pas devant les domestiques." Emerson grinned in a vulgar manner.
    Naturally I paid no attention to this remark, which was only meant to annoy me. Emerson had introduced the subject; I was determined to thrash it out then and there.
    "You, with a valet? You don't employ one here; what possible use could you have for an attendant in Luxor?"
    "I had in mind—" Emerson began.
    He was interrupted by John. "Oh, please, sir and madam— I'd be of use, truly I would. I could keep them tombs clean, and polish your boots—I'm sure they take a deal of polishing, with all that sand there—"
    "Splendid, splendid," Emerson said. "That's settled, then. What the devil are you doing, Wilkins? Why don't you serve the food? I am ravenous."
    There was no response from Wilkins, not even a blink. "Put the platter on the table, John," I said resignedly. "Then take Mr. Wilkins away."
    "Yes, madam. Thank you, madam. Oh, madam—"
    "That will do, John."
    Though John is an extremely large person, he is only a boy, and his fair complexion reflects every shade of emotion. It had run the gamut from the flush of excitement to the pallor of apprehension; he was now a delicate shell-pink with pleasure as he led his unfortunate superior away.
    Emerson attacked the beef with knife and fork. He avoided my eye, but the quirk at the corner of his mouth betokened a smug satisfaction I found maddening.
    "If you believe the subject is closed, you are in error," I said. "Really, Emerson, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Will you never learn? Your inconsiderate behavior has shocked Wilkins into a stupor and raised hopes in John that cannot be realized. It is too bad of