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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