brown paper and tying it securely with string. The parcel was
oddly shaped; perhaps a statuette of an old god, possibly Sobek
himself.
Oil lamps gave off an
opalescent glow that washed the bijou cave with blue-green light.
It was like diving into an underwater grotto where objects swam
before one’s eyes – ivory inlaid cigarette boxes, gold and silver
scarabs ornamented with gemstones, and delicate papyri covered with
hieroglyphs that defied translation.
The shop was deeper than it
looked. One room led to another, then down a few steps and into yet
another cave. In the third cavern, where a single oil lamp
glimmered dimly, there were mummies by the score. Most looked quite
small, as if constricted by their bandages, though people might
have been smaller several thousand years ago, or perhaps corpses
shrank after being eviscerated and embalmed.
They didn’t see the German
until they ventured into the bowels of the third cavern. He was
perusing a papyrus pertaining to a mummified crocodile. Dr Watson
turned abruptly on his heel to avoid the prospect of making polite
conversation. The Countess had no such qualm.
“How I envy you,” she said.
Surprised to hear the voice of
a woman, the German peered over the top of his pince-nez, then
looked around the watery bluish confines crammed full of dead
things to see if the attractive young woman was addressing him. “It
is to me you speak?”
“Yes, how I envy you?”
“Envy me?”
“You are able to read
hieroglyphs, I think?”
He gave a modest nod of his
head and smiled. “That is correct.”
She gazed at the cartouches on
the papyrus and wondered how difficult it might be to learn to read
glyphs. “I believe we travelled together on the Queen of Cairo but
we were not introduced. I believe we are also staying at the same
hotel. I am Countess Volodymyrovna.”
“A pleasure to meet you,
Countess. I saw you on the steamer ship, of course, and at the
hotel, yes, yes, of course, but I am not sociable. I am not on vacation. I am looking to make some purchases for private
clients. It is popular to have an Egyptian room with a few
treasures to show off to one’s friends. I apologise for any
rudeness. Your travelling companion, he is displeased with me, I
think. A dispute over deck chairs. I did not wish to have company.
I placed some personal items on the chairs either side of me. He
was annoyed. It happens all the time. There are never enough deck
chairs for all the passengers.”
“Quite right, I have witnessed
fearful rows, not only between men, but women too.”
He gave a quick chuckle. “I too
have witnessed this. I am Herr Graf.”
The name rang a bell. “Herr
Rhinehart Graf, the Leipzig archaeologist who translated the
Heliopolis papyrus on Egyptian law, which contradicted Diodorus on
the subject of punishment in the afterlife?”
He was stunned she was familiar
with the treatise and even more stunned she could remember what it
was about. He considered it obscure and rambling. “That was the
work of my younger brother. I am Herr Jurgen Graf. I perceive you
are interested in archaeology? You are joining a dig perhaps? The
excavation in the Valley of the Kings?”
“I am highly interested,
although I will not be joining any dig, however, I do intend to
explore the island of Philae. There is the possibility it may
become submerged when the dam is built. Are you acquainted with the
work of Professor Mallisham?” She knew very well the two men were
known to each other and was suddenly interested in what the German
might say about the professor.
“Oh, yes, Max Mallisham and I
go back many years. We do not always agree but I have the highest
respect for his current project. The dam will be a catastrophe. I
hope to visit Philae with my niece before it sinks into oblivion.
My niece is the reason I stole your calash. She was waiting for me
to meet her at the Cairo railway station and we docked later than
expected. I did not want her to worry too much. This is
oddly shaped; perhaps a statuette of an old god, possibly Sobek
himself.
Oil lamps gave off an
opalescent glow that washed the bijou cave with blue-green light.
It was like diving into an underwater grotto where objects swam
before one’s eyes – ivory inlaid cigarette boxes, gold and silver
scarabs ornamented with gemstones, and delicate papyri covered with
hieroglyphs that defied translation.
The shop was deeper than it
looked. One room led to another, then down a few steps and into yet
another cave. In the third cavern, where a single oil lamp
glimmered dimly, there were mummies by the score. Most looked quite
small, as if constricted by their bandages, though people might
have been smaller several thousand years ago, or perhaps corpses
shrank after being eviscerated and embalmed.
They didn’t see the German
until they ventured into the bowels of the third cavern. He was
perusing a papyrus pertaining to a mummified crocodile. Dr Watson
turned abruptly on his heel to avoid the prospect of making polite
conversation. The Countess had no such qualm.
“How I envy you,” she said.
Surprised to hear the voice of
a woman, the German peered over the top of his pince-nez, then
looked around the watery bluish confines crammed full of dead
things to see if the attractive young woman was addressing him. “It
is to me you speak?”
“Yes, how I envy you?”
“Envy me?”
“You are able to read
hieroglyphs, I think?”
He gave a modest nod of his
head and smiled. “That is correct.”
She gazed at the cartouches on
the papyrus and wondered how difficult it might be to learn to read
glyphs. “I believe we travelled together on the Queen of Cairo but
we were not introduced. I believe we are also staying at the same
hotel. I am Countess Volodymyrovna.”
“A pleasure to meet you,
Countess. I saw you on the steamer ship, of course, and at the
hotel, yes, yes, of course, but I am not sociable. I am not on vacation. I am looking to make some purchases for private
clients. It is popular to have an Egyptian room with a few
treasures to show off to one’s friends. I apologise for any
rudeness. Your travelling companion, he is displeased with me, I
think. A dispute over deck chairs. I did not wish to have company.
I placed some personal items on the chairs either side of me. He
was annoyed. It happens all the time. There are never enough deck
chairs for all the passengers.”
“Quite right, I have witnessed
fearful rows, not only between men, but women too.”
He gave a quick chuckle. “I too
have witnessed this. I am Herr Graf.”
The name rang a bell. “Herr
Rhinehart Graf, the Leipzig archaeologist who translated the
Heliopolis papyrus on Egyptian law, which contradicted Diodorus on
the subject of punishment in the afterlife?”
He was stunned she was familiar
with the treatise and even more stunned she could remember what it
was about. He considered it obscure and rambling. “That was the
work of my younger brother. I am Herr Jurgen Graf. I perceive you
are interested in archaeology? You are joining a dig perhaps? The
excavation in the Valley of the Kings?”
“I am highly interested,
although I will not be joining any dig, however, I do intend to
explore the island of Philae. There is the possibility it may
become submerged when the dam is built. Are you acquainted with the
work of Professor Mallisham?” She knew very well the two men were
known to each other and was suddenly interested in what the German
might say about the professor.
“Oh, yes, Max Mallisham and I
go back many years. We do not always agree but I have the highest
respect for his current project. The dam will be a catastrophe. I
hope to visit Philae with my niece before it sinks into oblivion.
My niece is the reason I stole your calash. She was waiting for me
to meet her at the Cairo railway station and we docked later than
expected. I did not want her to worry too much. This is
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