anner.themummy-第11节

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the　bite　of　a　snake　to　end　her　life。　The　Roman　guards　had　not　prevented　her　suicide。　And　so　Octavian　took　possession　of　Egypt。　But　Cleopatra　he　could　not　have。　Julie　closed　the　book　almost　reverently。　She　looked　at　the　long　row　of　alabaster　jars。　Could　these　really　be　those　very　poisons？
　
　She　fell　into　a　strange　reverie　as　she　gazed　at　the　magnificent　coffin。　A　hundred　like　it　she　had　seen　here　and　in　Cairo。　A　hundred　like　it　she　had　examined　ever　since　she　could　remember。　Only　this　one　contained　a　man　who　claimed　to　be　immortal。　Who　claimed　to　be　entering　not　death　when　he　was　buried；　but〃　a　dream…filled　sleep。〃
　
　What　was　the　secret　of　that　slumber？　Of　being　awakened　from　it？　And　the　elixir！
　
　〃Ramses　the　Damned；〃　　she　whispered。〃　Would　you　wake　for　me　as　you　did　for　Cleopatra？　Would　you　wake　for　a　new　century　of　indescribable　marvels　even　though　your　Queen　is　dead？〃
　
　No　answer　but　silence；　and　the　large　soft　eyes　of　the　golden　King　staring　at　her；　graven　hands　folded　over　his　chest。
　
　〃That's　robbery！〃　　Henry　said；　barely　able　to　contain　his　anger。〃　The　thing's　priceless。〃　　He　glared　at　the　little　man　behind　the　desk　in　the　back　office　of　the　coin　shop。　Miserable　little　thief　in　his　stuffy　world　of　dirty　glass　cases　and　bits　and　pieces　of　money　displayed　as　if　they　were　jewels。
　
　〃If　it's　genuine；　yes；〃　　the　man　answered　slowly。〃　And　if　it's　genuine；　where　did　it　e　from？　A　coin　like　this　with　a　perfect　image　of　Cleopatra？　That's　what　they　will　want　to　know；　you　see；　where　did　it　e　from？　And　you　have　not　told　me　your　name。〃
　
　〃No；　I　haven't。〃　　Exasperated；　he　snatched　the　coin　back　from　the　dealer；　slipped　it　into　his　pocket　and　turned　to　go。　He　stopped　long　enough　to　put　on　his　gloves。　What　did　he　have　left？　Fifty　pounds？　He　was　in　a　fury。　He　let　the　door　slam　behind　him　as　he　walked　into　the　biting　wind。
　
　The　dealer　sat　quite　still　for　a　long　moment。　He　could　still　feel　the　coin　that　he　had　let　slip　literally　from　his　hand。　Never　in　all　these　long　years　had　he　seen　anything　quite　like　it。　He　knew　it　was　genuine；　and　suddenly　he　felt　the　fool　as　never　before　in　his　life。
　
　He　should　have　bought　it！　He　should　have　taken　the　risk。　But　he　knew　it　was　stolen；　and　not　even　for　the　Queen　of　the　Nile　could　he　bee　a　thief。
　
　
　
　He　rose　from　the　desk；　and　passed　through　the　dusty　serge　curtains　that　separated　his　shop　from　a　tiny　drawing　room　where　he　spent　much　of　his　time；　even　during　business　hours；　quite　alone。　His　newspaper　lay　beside　the　wing　chair　where　he'd　left　it。　He　opened　now　to　the　headline：
　
　STRATFORD　MUMMY　AND　HIS　CURSE　E　TO　LONDON
　
　The　ink　drawing　beneath　showed　a　slender　young　man　disembarking　from　the　P&O　H。M。S。　Melpomine　along　with　the　mummy　of　the　famed　Ramses　the　Damned。　Henry　Stratford；　nephew　of　the　dead　archaeologist；　said　the　caption。　Yes；　that　was　the　man　who　had　just　left　his　shop。　Had　he　stolen　the　coin　from　the　tomb　where　his　uncle　died　so　suddenly？　And　how　many　more　like　it　had　he　taken？　The　dealer　was　confused；　relieved　on　the　one　hand；　and　full　of　regret　on　the　other。　He　stared　at　the　telephone。
　
　Noon。　The　club　dining　room　was　quiet；　the　few　scattered　members　eating　their　lunch　alone　on　white…draped　tables　in　silence。　Just　the　way　Randolph　liked　it；　a　true　retreat　from　the　noisy　streets　outside；　and　the　endless　pressure　and　confusion　of　his　office。
　
　He　was　not　happy　when　he　saw　his　son　standing　in　the　door　some　fifty　feet　away。　Hasn't　slept　all　night；　more　than　likely。　Yet　Henry　was　shaven；　neatly　dressed；　Randolph　gave　him　that　much。　The　little　things　were　never　out　of　Henry's　control。　It　was　the　great　disaster　with　which　he　couldn't　cope…that　he　had　no　real　life　any　longer。　That　he　was　a　gambler　and　a　drinker　with　no　soul。
　
　Randolph　went　back　to　his　soup。
　
　He　didn't　look　up　as　his　son　took　the　chair　opposite；　and　called　to　the　waiter　for　a　Scotch　and　water〃　at　once。〃
　
　〃I　told　you　to　stay　at　your　cousin's　last　night；〃　　Randolph　said　gloomily。　There　was　no　point　to　this　conversation。〃　I　left　the　key　for　you。〃
　
　〃I　picked　up　the　key；　thank　you。　And　my　cousin　is　no　doubt　doing　quite　well　without　me。　She　has　her　mummy　to　keep　her　pany。〃
　
　The　waiter　set　down　the　glass　and　Henry　drained　it　at　once。
　
　Randolph　took　another　slow　spoon　of　the　hot　soup。〃　Why　the　hell　do　you　dine　in　a　place　like　this？　It's　been　out　of　fashion　for　a　decade。　It's　positively　funereal。〃
　
　〃Keep　your　voice　down。〃
　
　〃Why　should　I？　All　the　members　are　deaf。〃
　
　Randolph　sat　back　in　the　chair。　He　gave　a　small　nod　to　the　waiter；　who　moved　in　to　take　the　soup　plate。〃　It's　my　club　and　I　like　it；〃　　he　said　dully。　Meaningless。　All　conversation　with　his　son　was　meaningless。　He　would　weep　if　he　thought　of　it。　He　would　weep　if　he　lingered　too　long　on　the　fact　that　Henry's　hands　trembled；　that　his　face　was　pale　and　drawn；　and　that　his　eyes　fixed　on　nothing…eyes　of　an　addict；　a　drunk。
　
　〃Bring　the　bottle；〃　　Henry　said　to　the　waiter；　without　looking　up。　And　to　his　father；〃　I'm　down　to　twenty　pounds。〃　

　
　〃I　can't　advance　you　anything！〃　　Randolph　said　wearily。〃　As　long　as　she's　in　control；　the　situation　is　very　simply　desperate。　You　don't　understand。〃
　
　〃You're　lying　to　me。　I　know　she　signed　papers　yesterday。　。。。〃
　
　〃You've　drawn　a　year's　salary　in　advance。〃
　
　〃Father；　I　must　have　another　hundred。　。。。〃
　
　〃If　she　examines　the　books　herself；　I　may　have　to　confess　everything；　and　ask　for　another　chance。〃
　
　It　filled　him　with　surprising　relief　merely　to　say　it。　Perhaps　it　was　what　he　wanted。　He　gazed　at　his　son　from　a　great　remove　suddenly。　Yes；　he　should　tell　his　niece　everything；　and　ask　for　her　。　；　。　what？　Her　help。
　
　Henry　was　sneering。
　
　〃Throwing　ourselves　on　her　mercy。　Oh；　that's　lovely。〃
　
　Randolph　looked　away；　across　the　long　vista　of　white…draped　tables。　Only　one　stooped　grey…haired　figure　remained　now；　dining　alone；　in　a　far　corner。　The　elderly　Viscount　Stephenson…　one　of　the　old　landed　gentry　who　still　had　the　bank　account　to　support　his　vast　estates。　Well；　dine　in　peace；　my　friend；　Randolph　thought　wearily。
　
　〃What　else　can　we　do！〃　　he　said　softly　now　to　his　son。〃　You　might　e　to　work　tomorrow。　At　least　make　an　appearance。　。。。〃
　
　Was　his　son　listening；　his　son　who　had　been　miserable　for　as　long　as　Randolph　could　remember；　his　son　who　had　no　future；　no　ambitions；　no　plans；　no　dreams？
　
　It　broke　his　heart　suddenly；　the　thought　of　it…the　long　years　since　his　son　had　been　anything　but　desperate；　and　furtive；　and
　
　bitter　as　well。　It　broke　his　heart　to　see　his　son's　eyes　darting　anxiously　over　the　simple　objects　of　the　table…the　heavy　silver；　the　napkin　which　he　had　not　yet　unfolded。　The　glass　and　the　bottle　of　Scotch。
　
　〃All　right；　I'll　give　you　some　on　account；〃　　he　said。　What　would　another　hundred　pounds　matter？　And　this　was　his　only　son。　His　only　son。
　
　A　sombre　yet　undeniably　exciting　occasion。　When　Elliott　arrived；　the　Stratford　house　was　crowded　to　overflowing。　He　had　always　loved　this　house；　with　its　unmonly　large　rooms；　and　its　dramatic　central　stairway。
　
　So　much　dark　wood；　so　many　towering　bookshelves；　and　yet　it　had　a　cheerful　atmosphere　with　the　wicked　abundance　of　electric　light　and　the　never…ending　stretches　of　gilded　wallpaper。　But　he　missed　Lawrence　sharply　as　he　stood　in　the　front　hall。　He　felt　Lawrence　here；　and　all　the　wasted　moments　of　their　friendship　came　back　to　torment　him。　And　the　long…ago　love　affair　that　haunted　him　still。
　
　Well；　he　had　known　it　would　happen。　But　there　was　nowhere　else　on　earth　that　he　wanted　to　be　tonight；　except　in　Lawrence's　house　for　the　first　official　showing　of　Ramses　the　Damned；　Lawrence's　discovery。　He　made　a　light　dismissive　gesture　to　fend　off　those　who　immediately　came　towards　him；　and　bowing　his　head　he　pushed　his　way　gently　through　strangers　and　old　friends　until　he　reached　the　Egyptian　room。　The　pain　in　his　legs　was　bad　tonight；　because　of　the　damp；　as　he　always　said。　But　luckily　he　wouldn't　have　to　stand　long。　And　he　had　a　new　walking　stick　that　he　rather　liked；　a　fancy　affair　with　a　silver　handle。
　
　〃Thank　you；　Oscar；〃　　he　said　with　the　usual　smile　as　he　took　his　first　glass　of　white　wine。
　
　〃Not　a　moment　too　soon；　old　boy；〃　　Randolph　said　to　him　wearily。〃　They're　going　to　unveil　the　ghastly　thing　now。　Might　as　well　e　along。〃
　
　Elliot　nodded。　Randolph　looked　dreadful；　no　doubt　about　it。　He'd　had　the　wind　knocked　out　of　him　by　Lawrence's　death。　But　he　was　doing　his　best　here；　it　was　obvious。
　
　They　moved　together　into　the　front　ranks…and　for　the　first　time；　Elliott　laid　eyes　upon　the　startlingly　beautiful　coffin　of　the　mummy。'
　
　The　innocent；　childlike　expression　of　the　golden　mask　charmed　him。　Then　his　eyes　moved　to　the　bands　of　writing　that　girded　the　lower　portion　of　the　figure。　Latin　and　Greek　words　written　as　if　they　were　Egyptian　hieroglyphs！
　
　But　he　was　distracted　as　Hancock　of　the　British　Museum　called　for　quiet；　tapping　a　spoon　loudly　on　a　crystal　glass。　Beside　Hancock　stood　Alex；　with　his　arm　around　Julie；　who　looked　exquisite　in　her　black　mourning；　her　hair　drawn　severely　back　from　her　pale　face；　revealing　to　all　the　world　that　her　featur