anner.themummy-第13节

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e　wants　his　gellebiyya　of　watered　silk；　and　his　slippers；　and　he　should　have　them。　What　barbarians　we　must　seem。
　
　Elliott　moved　to　the　far　corner　and　slipped　into　Lawrence's　leather　chair；　easing　it　back　against　the　wall。　The　crowd　opened　and　closed　at　random；　revealing　Henry　again　moving　away　from　the　others；　and　glancing　unfortably　to　right　and　left。　Very　subtle；　not　like　a　stage　villain；　but　he's　up　to　something；　isn't　he？
　
　Henry　slowly　passed　the　marble　table；　his　hand　hovering　as　if　he　meant　to　touch　the　ancient　scrolls。　The　crowd　closed　again；　but　Elliott　merely　waited。　The　little　knot　of　persons　in　front　of　him　shifted　finally；　and　there　was　Henry；　yards　away；　peering　at　a　necklace　on　a　little　glass　shelf；　one　of　those　many　relics　which　Lawrence　had　brought　home　years　ago。
　
　Did　anyone　see　Henry　pick　up　the　necklace　and　look　at　it　lovingly　as　if　he　were　an　antiquarian？　Did　anyone　see　him　slip　it　into　his　pocket　and　walk　away；　face　blank；　mouth　rigid？
　
　Bastard。
　
　Elliott　only　smiled。　He　took　a　sip　of　the　chilled　white　wine；　and　wished　it　were　sherry。　He　wished　he　had　not　seen　the　lithe　theft。　He　wished　he　had　not　seen　Henry。
　
　His　own　secret　memories　of　Henry　had　never　lost　their　painful　edge；　perhaps　because　he　had　never　confessed　what　had　happened　to　anyone。　Not　even　to　Edith；　though　he　had　told　her　many　other　sordid　things　about　himself　when　wine　and　philosophy　had　made　it　seem　imperative　that　he　do　so；　and　not　to　the　Roman　Catholic　priests　to　whom　he　occasionally　went　to　speak　of　heaven　and　hell　in　passionate　ways　no　one　else　would　tolerate。
　
　He　always　told　himself　that　if　he　did　not　relive　those　dark　times；　then　he　would　forget　them。　But　they　were　horridly　vivid　even　now；　some　ten　years　after。
　
　He　had　loved　Henry　Stratford　once。　And　Henry　Stratford　was　the　only　lover　Elliott　had　ever　had　who　tried　to　blackmail　him。
　
　Of　course　it　had　been　an　utter　failure。　Elliott　had　laughed　in　Henry's　face。　He'd　called　his　bluff。〃　Shall　I　tell　your　father　all　about　it？　Or　shall　I　tell　your　uncle　Lawrence　first？　He's　going　to　be　furious　with　me　。。。　for　perhaps　five　minutes。　But　you；　his　favourite　nephew；　he　will　despise　till　the　day　you　die　because　I
　
　shall　tell　him　all　of　it；　you　see；　down　to　the　sum　of　money　you're　demanding。　What　was　it？　Five　hundred　pounds？　You've　made　yourself　a　wretch　for　that；　imagine。〃
　
　How　sullen　and　hurt　Henry　had　been；　how　utterly　confounded。
　
　It　should　have　been　a　triumph；　but　nothing　took　the　sting　from　the　overall　humiliation。　Henry　at　twenty…two…a　viper　with　an　angel's　face；　turning　on　Elliott　in　their　Paris　hotel　as　if　he　were　a　mon　boy　out　of　the　gutter。
　
　And　then　there　had　been　the　little　thefts。　An　hour　after　Henry　had　left；　Elliot！　had　discovered　that　his　cigarette　case；　his　money　clip　and　all　his　cash　were　missing。　His　dressing　gown　was　gone；　his　cuff　links。　Other　items　he　could　no　longer　remember。
　
　He　could　never　bring　himself　to　mention　the　whole　disaster。　But　he　would　have　liked　to　needle　Henry　now；　to　slip　up　beside　him　and　ask　about　the　necklace　that　had　just　found　its　way　into　his　pocket。　Would　Henry　put　it　with　the　gold　cigarette　case；　and　the　fine　engraved　money　clip；　and　the　diamond　cuff　links？　Or　lay　it　off　on　the　same　pawnbroker？
　
　It　was　ail　too　sad　really。　Henry　had　been　a　gifted　young　man；　and　it　had　all　gone　wrong；　despite　education　and　blood　and　countless　opportunities。　He'd　started　to　gamble　when　he　was　no　more　than　a　boy；　his　drinking　had　bee　a　disease　by　the　time　he　was　twenty…five；　and　now　at　thirty…two　he　had　a　perpetually　sinister　air　that　deepened　his　good　looks　and　made　him　curiously　repulsive　in　spite　of　them。　And　who　suffered　for　it？　Randolph；　of　course；　who　believed　against　all　evidence　that　Henry's　descent　was　his　father's　failure。
　
　Let　him　go　to　hell；　Elliott　thought。　Maybe　he'd　sought　some　glimmer　with　Henry　of　the　flame　he'd　known　with　Lawrence；　and　it　was　all　his　own　fault…seeing　the　uncle　in　the　nephew。　But　no；　it　had　started　as　an　honest　thing　in　its　own　right。　And　Henry　Stratford　had　pursued　him；　after　all。　Yes；　to　hell　with　Henry。
　
　It　was　the　mummy　Elliott　had　e　to　see。　And　the　crowd　had　backed　off　a　little　again。　He　caught　a　fresh　glass　of　wine　from　a　passing　tray；　climbed　to　his　feet；　ignoring　the　outrageous　stab　of　pain　in　his　left　hip；　and　made　his　way　back　to　the　solemn　figure　in　the　coffin。
　
　He　looked　at　the　face　again；　the　grim　set　of　the　mouth　with　its　firm　chin。　A　man　in　his　prime　all　right。　And　there　was　hair　cleaving　to　the　well…shaped　skull　beneath　the　swollen　bandages。　He　lifted　his　glass　in　salute。
　
　〃Ramses；〃　　he　whispered；　drawing　closer。　And　then　speaking　in　Latin；　he　said；〃　Wele　to　London。　Do　you　know　where　London　is？〃　　He　laughed　softly　at　himself　speaking　Latin　to　this　thing。　Then　he　quoted　a　few　sentences　from　Caesar's　account　of　his　conquest　of　Britain。〃　That's　where　you　are；　great　King；〃　　he　said。　He　made　a　feeble　attempt　to　switch　to　Greek；　but　it　was　simply　too　hard　for　him。　In　Latin；　he　said：〃　I　hope　you　like　the　damn　place　better　than　I　do。〃
　
　There　was　a　faint　rustling　sound　suddenly。　Where　had　it　e　from？　How　odd　to　hear　it　so　distinctly　when　the　roar　of　conversation　all　around　him　was　such　a　persistent　nuisance。　But　it　sounded　as　if　it　had　e　from　the　coffin　itself；　right　in　front　of　him。
　
　He　scanned　the　face　again。　Then　the　arms　and　hands；　which　appeared　to　be　snagged　in　the　rotted　linen；　as　if　they　might　fall　loose　at　any　moment。　In　fact；　there　was　a　distinct　tear　in　the　dark；　dirty　cloth；　exposing　a　bit　of　the　undergarment　of　the　body　right　where　the　wrists　were　crossed。　Not　good。　The　thing　was　deteriorating　right　here　before　his　eyes。　Or　there　were　tiny　parasites　at　work。　Must　be　stopped　immediately。
　
　He　looked　down　at　the　mummy's　feet。　This　was　alarming。　A　tiny　pile　of　dust　accumulating　even　as　he　watched；　falling；　it　seemed；　from　the　twisted　right　hand；　on　which　the　wrappings　had　been　badly　broken。
　
　〃Good　Lord；　Julie　must　send　this　over　to　the　museum　immediately；〃　　he　whispered。　And　then　he　heard　that　sound　again。　Rustling？　No；　it　was　fainter。　Yes；　the　thing　must　be　properly　taken　care　of。　God　only　knew　what　the　London　damp　was　doing　to　it。　But　surely　Samir　knew　this。　And　so　did　Hancock。
　
　In　Latin；　he　spoke　to　the　mummy　again。〃　I　don't　like　the　damp　either；　great　King。　It　gives　me　pain。　And　that's　why　I'm　going　home　now；　to　leave　you　to　your　worshippers。〃
　
　He　turned　away；　leaning　heavily　on　his　cane；　to　ease　the　ache　in　his　hip。　He　glanced　back　only　once。　And　the　thing　looked　so　robust。　It　was　as　if　the　Egyptian　heat　had　not　dried　it　out　whatsoever。
　
　Daisy　looked　at　the　tiny　necklace　as　Henry　clasped　it　at　the　back　of　her　neck。　Her　dressing　room　was　packed　with　flowers；　bottles　of　red　wine；　champagne　cooling　in　ice；　and　other　offerings；　but　none　from　a　man　as　handsome　as　Henry　Stratford。
　
　〃Looks　funny　to　me；〃　　she　said；　cocking　her　head　to　one　side。　Thin　gold　chain　and　a　little　trinket　with　paint　on　it；　or　that's　what　it　looked　like。〃　Wherever　did　you　get　it？〃
　
　〃It's　worth　more　than　that　trash　you　took　off；〃　　Henry　said；　smiling。　His　speech　was　thick。　He　was　drunk　again。　And　that　meant　he　would　be　mean；　or　very；　very　sweet。〃　Now　e　on；　ducky；　we're　going　to　Flint's。　I　feel　unmonly　lucky；　and　there's　a　hundred　pounds　burning　a　hole　in　my　pocket。　Get　a　move　on。〃
　
　〃And　you　mean　to　say　that　loony　cousin　of　yours　is　all　alone　in　that　house　now　with　that　bloomin'　mummy　case　wide　open　right　there　in　the　parlour？〃
　
　〃Who　the　hell　cares？〃　　He　snatched　up　the　white　fox　wrap　he'd　bought　for　her　and　put　it　over　her　shoulders；　and　pulled　her　out　of　the　dressing　room　and　towards　the　stage　door。
　
　Flint's　was　packed　when　they　got　there。　She　hated　the　smoke；　and　the　sour　smell　of　drink；　but　it　was　always　fun　to　be　with　him　here　when　he　had　money　and　he　was　excited；　and　he　kissed　her　now　on　the　cheek　as　he　led　her　towards　the　roulette　wheel。
　
　〃You　know　the　rules。　You　stand　on　my　left；　and　only　on　my　left。　That's　always　been　lucky。〃
　
　She　nodded。　Look　at　all　the　fine　gentlemen　in　this　room；　and　the　women　just　loaded　with　jewels。　And　she　with　this　silly　thing　around　her　neck。　It　made　her　anxious。
　
　Julie　jumped；　what　was　that　sound？　She　found　herself　vaguely　embarrassed　as　she　stood　alone　in　the　shadowy　library。
　
　There　was　no　one　else　here；　but　she　could　have　sworn　she　heard　another　person。　Not　a　step；　no。　Just　all　the　tiny　little　sounds　of　another　in　the　room　very　near　to　her。
　
　She　looked　at　the　mummy　slumbering　in　its　case。　In　the　semi…darkness；　it　looked　as　if　it　were　coated　with　a　thin　layer　of　ashes。　And　what　a　sombre；　brooding　expression　it　had。　She　really　hadn't　noticed　before。　It　looked　for　all　the　world　as　if　it　were　struggling　with　a　bad　dream。　She　could　almost　see　a　crease　in　the　forehead。
　
　Was　she　glad　now　that　they　had　not　replaced　the　lid？　She　wasn't　certain。　But　it　was　too　late。　She　had　sworn　not　to　touch　these　things　herself；　and　she　must　get　to　bed；　she　was　more　weary　than　she'd　ever　been。　Her　father's　old　friends　had　stayed　forever。　And　then　the　newspaper　people　had　barged　in。　What　brazen　effrontery！　The　guards　had　finally　forced　th