The Twenty-Third Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

state.
    ‘There!’ said Mr Peterhouse. ‘Twenty-three dead men, and all of them kings! A sight worth seeing, I trust? Of course, all the bodies are mummified. They would not look so perfect otherwise. And what do you think of their robes and death-masks? Slightly Aztec in feeling, would you say?’
    All that Dame Beatrice noted was that one of the dead kings was taller than the others, but she made no comment upon this.
    ‘I would have thought African,’ said Mrs Drashleigh. ‘Zanzibar, you know.’
    Nobody else contributed an opinion, and Caroline created an unpleasant diversion by clutching Peterhouse and suddenly screaming:
    ‘He moved! The twenty-third one! I saw him move! Take me out! Take me out of here!’
    Her brother swore nervously and gave her a slight shake. Mrs Drashleigh laughed, a sound rather like the neighing of a horse. Peterhouse clicked his tongue. The guide went up to the twenty-third robed skeleton and stared into its mask, then he spat for luck and announced abruptly that all would leave the cave.
    A picnic meal had been provided by, and brought from, the hotel. As, by this time, it was past midday and the majority of the company were hungry, the food was hailed with considerable enthusiasm, especially as the preparation of the picnic dissipated the atmosphere induced by Caroline’s inexplicable outburst. Mrs Drashleigh insisted upon presiding, in a somewhat officious manner, over the arrangements, but, freed from the onus of managing, or attempting to manage, Clement, she proved efficient enough, and, as she did most of the running about, nobody offered any objection to her as self-appointed organizer.
    When the food had been disposed of and the last bottle of beer had been given to the guide, some of the party suggested that a further ascent of the mountain would be enjoyable. The opinion of Dame Beatrice, the oldest of the company, was solicited by Peterhouse. She replied:
    ‘I should like to climb far enough to see El Pino de la Virgen, which, I understand, is at two thousand five hundred feet.’
    The guide was pleased with this suggestion and fell in with it volubly, explaining that the Pine of the Virgin was the biggest tree in the world, yes, and in the Garden of Eden also. Impressed, albeit not convinced, by these assertions, the party mounted their mules and resumed their mountain pilgrimage. The path was steeper than before, and appeared, to one, at least, of the company, very dangerous.
    ‘I’m not going any further!’ cried Caroline, suddenly. ‘Look at where the rocks have fallen! We shall all be killed!’
    Her brother, who was riding immediately behind her, begged her to stop being ridiculous.
    ‘If it weren’t safe, the guide wouldn’t bring us. These fellows always think of their own skins!’ he said. As though the island resented this aspersion on the guide, there was a rumbling sound and a large chunk of rock detached itself from the cliff-face and bounded, in a cloud of dust, down the mountain-side.
    ‘You see!’ Caroline almost screamed. ‘I told you so!’
    The guide, who was bringing up the rear, shouted a guttural command to the mules. These came to a halt, twitching their ears.
    ‘It will be’, said the guide calmly, ‘of no danger to go on. Here always there falls a rock. One expects it. Never has the path to the Virgin seen an accident. It would be bad luck if no rock fell. The mountain signals to the Pine that there will be money to put in the box. Only those without piety will wish to turn back now.’
    He received support from Peterhouse.
    ‘Quite right, you know,’ he said earnestly. ‘Something in these old superstitions. Knew a couple once. Turned back at about this point on the route. Mules ran away with them and galloped them over the edge. Took days to locate the bodies. Smashed to bits. Not one whole bone in either of ’em. Terrible thing. So come along, Mrs Lockerby. Up with the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.’
    ‘I shall go back to the cave