The Curse of the Pharaohs Read Online Free PDF

newspaper, noting that, to judge by certain creases and folds, I was not the first to peruse that particular article. It bore the title "Lady Baskerville vows the work must go on."
    The journalist—"Our Correspondent in Luxor"—wrote with considerable feeling and many adjectives about the lady's "delicate lips, curved like a Cupid's bow, which quivered with emotion as she spoke" and "her tinted face which bore stamped upon it a deep acquaintance with grief."
    "Bah," I said, after several paragraphs of this. "What drivel. I must say, Emerson, Lady Baskerville sounds like a perfect idiot. Listen to this. 'I can think of no more fitting monument to my lost darling than the pursuit of that great cause for which he gave his life.' Lost darling, indeed!"
    Emerson did not reply. Squatting on the floor, with Ramses between his knees, he was turning the pages of a large illustrated volume on zoology, trying to convince the boy that his bone did not match that of a zebra—for Ramses had retreated from giraffes to that slightly less exotic beast. Unfortunately a zebra is rather like a horse, and the example Emerson found bore a striking resemblance to the bone Ramses was flourishing. The child let out a malevolent chuckle and remarked, "I was wight, you see. It is a zebwa."
    "Have another cake," said his father.
    "Armadale is still missing," I continued. "I told you he was the murderer."
    "Bah," said Emerson. "He will turn up eventually. There has been no murder."
    "You can hardly believe he has been drunk for a fortnight," I said.
    "I have known men to remain drunk for considerably longer periods," said Emerson.
    "If Armadale had met with an accident he, or his remains, would have been found by now. The Theban area has been combed—"
    "It is impossible to search the western mountains thoroughly," Emerson snapped. "You know what they are liked —jagged cliffs cut by hundreds of gullies and ravines."
    "Then you believe he is out there somewhere?"
    "I do. It would be a tragic coincidence, certainly, if he met with a fatal accident so soon after Sir Henry's death; the newspapers would certainly set up a renewed howl about curses. But such coincidences do happen, especially if a man is distracted by—"
    "He is probably in Algeria by now," I said.
    "Algeria! Why there, for heaven's sake?"
    "The Foreign Legion. They say it is Ml of murderers and criminals attempting to escape justice."
    Emerson got to his feet. I was pleased to observe that his eyes had lost their melancholy look and were blazing with temper. I noted, as well, that four years of relative inactivity bad not robbed his form of its strength and vigor. He had removed his coat and starched collar preparatory to playing with the boy, and his disheveled appearance irresistibly recalled the unkempt individual who had first captured my heart. I decided that if we went straight upstairs there might be time, before we changed for dinner—
    "It is time for bed, Ramses; Nurse will be waiting," I said. "You may take the last cake with you."
    Ramses gave me a long, considering look. He then turned to his father, who said cravenly, "Run along, my boy. Papa will read you an extra chapter from his History of Egypt when you are tucked in your cot."
    "Vewy well," said Ramses. He nodded at me in a manner reminiscent of the regal condescension of his namesake. "You will come and say good night, Mama?"
    "I always do," I said.
    When he had left the room, taking not only the last cake but the book on zoology, Emerson began pacing up and down.
    "I suppose you want another cup of tea," I said.
    When I really supposed was that since I had suggested the tea, he would say he did not want it. Like all men, Emerson is very susceptible to the cruder forms of manipulation. Instead he said gruffly, "I want a whiskey and soda."
    Emerson seldom imbibes. Trying to conceal my concern, I inquired, "Is something wrong?"
    "Not something. Everything. You know, Amelia."
    "Were your students unusually dense