The Crime Crypt

CHAPTER XV. AT THE MUSEUM

A FEW days after the affair at Brisbane Calbot’s, a stoop-shouldered old man appeared on the avenue in front of the new Egyptian Museum. Turning from the sidewalk, this visitor ascended the granite steps that led to the imposing edifice.

The old man had an odd, tottering step that seemed to indicate a strength despite the frailty of his form.

His short height was due to the forward lean of his shoulders. This resulted in a peculiar upturn of his neck; and the old man made a ludicrous appearance as he stalked toward the entrance of the museum.

An attendant at the door grinned and turned to a companion. He pointed out the figure of the weary-looking old man.

“Here he is again,” said the attendant. “The guy I was telling you about. If he ain’t a card, I miss my bet. We get some goofy looking birds around here, but this old turkey-neck has ‘em all beat.”

The old man was at the door when the attendant ceased speaking. The uniformed man opened the barrier to admit the visitor. The old man bowed in friendly fashion and mumbled his thanks. Then, in a quavering tone, he asked:

“Is the curator in his office?”

“Yes, sir,” returned the attendant. “You can see him this afternoon.”

“Ah!” The old man’s tone was grateful. “I had hoped to find him here. This is my third visit in the past few days. I had hoped to find him this time.”

Following the attendant’s pointing finger, the old man walked along a corridor and reached the office which had been indicated. An inscription on the glass door read:

The old man opened the door. Hesitatingly, he entered. He reached an outer office and bowed to a young woman, evidently the curator’s secretary.

“The curator?” questioned the visitor. “May I see him?”

“Who shall I tell him is here?”

“Professor Dilling. Professor Sturgis Dilling.”

“Be seated, professor.”

The old man was carrying a heavy package under one arm and a briefcase in his other hand. He placed these objects upon the floor and seated himself in a chair. He produced a pair of large-rimmed spectacles and adjusted them to his eyes. The action gave him an owlish appearance.

“The curator will see you, professor.”

OLD Sturgis Dilling arose and followed the girl into an inner office. He bowed to a cadaverous-looking man who sat behind a mahogany table. Handley Matson, curator of the Egyptian Museum, looked like the mummy of some Pharaoh.

“Good afternoon, professor,” said Matson, in a solemn voice. “What is the purpose of your inquiry here?”

“I am an Egyptologist, sir,” returned Dilling, in a quavering voice. “I came, a few days ago, to see the tomb of Senwosri. I was informed that it was not open to the public.”

“It is not,” asserted the curator. “We intend to have it so after the new wing is completed. However, I can show individual visitors the tomb. Would you like to see it?”

Sturgis Dilling nodded. His eyes gleamed warmly. The curator arose and led the way to the door. He passed through the anteroom, with the professor following. On the way, the old man hesitated; then picked up his package and briefcase to totter after the curator.

The pair reached a long room some distance from the office. They passed an attendant who was standing at the door. The curator turned to the professor.

“You have seen the antiquities here, of course?” he asked. “We have some remarkable specimens of Egyptian art and sculpture in these cases, particularly here.”

Sturgis Dilling nodded as Handley Matson pointed out a show case that contained delicately sculptured objects of the sort found in Egyptian tombs.

“This is the Armsbury collection,” explained the curator. “Purchased from Cecil Armsbury, a man whose archaeological work is highly recognized. Over here are clay tablets — also from the same collection.”

Professor Dilling stared at the second case. He seemed to be deciphering the inscriptions on the tablets.

The curator watched the old man nod.

“I have seen these,” declared Sturgis Dilling. “Very interesting, sir. Very interesting, indeed.”

The curator led the way to the end of the room. He removed a large key from his pocket and unlocked a heavy door. Within was a huge stone sarcophagus, with heavy lid. Standing before the coffinlike structure was an upright mummy case, fastened with heavy bands.

“THE tomb of Senwosri,” announced the curator, in a voice that sounded solemn within the walls and low ceiling of the little room. “We keep the mummy case here because of its great value. The golden mask — the jeweled objects — all are in their place within the case. We keep it closed and strapped shut because of the value of its contents.”

“I should like to see the mummy itself,” remarked Sturgis Dilling. “I shall certainly be among the first to visit the new wing of your museum, Mr. Matson. I have been deeply interested in the history of Senwosri. He was the son of Amenemhe—”

“And the builder of the obelisk at Heliopolis,” added the curator, in a monotone. “He also erected the temple at Wadi Halfa. Confidentially, Professor Dilling, I am almost afraid to have so valuable a treasure here in my museum! The wealth within that mummy case rivals that of Tutankhamen’s tomb!

“The public does not realize the value of Senwosri’s coffin, for the publicity given to Carnarvaron’s discovery of Tutankhamen eclipsed the finding of Senwosri. There are Egyptologists, however, who know that the American expedition which unearthed this case and its sarcophagus did quite as creditable work as the British expedition which Lord Carnarvaron headed in the finding of Tutankhamen.”

“This is a strongroom,” observed Sturgis Dilling.

“Accessible only from the outer room,” declared the curator. “That fact has somewhat relieved my qualms. In the new wing, however, the tomb of Senwosri will have ample space for public display. We have made it a rule, however, to keep the mummy case closed until we have the proper arrangements for its protection.”

Professor Dilling was examining the painted, gold decorated surface of the mummy case. The curator added another comment.

“The straps,” he explained, “are simply to keep the case loosely shut. At first, we used to keep it in the stone sarcophagus. You will observe the padlocked bars that still encircle the stone container. I intend to remove those later. They serve no useful purpose.”

The old man looked at the sarcophagus. He turned and walked from the little room. The curator followed him and locked the door of the tomb.

Dilling was strolling about the outer room when the curator joined him. The old professor had laid his package and briefcase aside. He was displaying new interest in the Armsbury collection. Then he turned and pointed to the end wall of the room — opposite the door of the tomb.

“I was told,” he said, “that yonder space was reserved for a collection of mummies.”

“Yes,” acknowledged the curator. “They are a part of the Armsbury collection that has not yet been delivered. The mummy cases have been in temporary storage. They are not of great value, professor; nevertheless, they would interest you. They are virtually a gift from Armsbury — for we did not have the funds to purchase them.”

“Indeed,” remarked Dilling. “That is quite interesting, Mr. Matson. The attendant did not know just when the mummies were expected. He thought they would come on the fifteenth.”

“They are to be delivered on the fifteenth,” returned Matson. “Jove! That’s today, isn’t it? I had forgotten all about the matter.”

The curator paused to glance at his watch. The time showed twenty minutes of three.

“We close at three o’clock,” declared Matson. “Of course, the attendants and myself are here until five. The mummies will probably come in later in the afternoon. Should you come back tomorrow, Professor Dilling, you will find them on display.”

“Thank you, sir,” returned Dilling.

“I must leave you,” said the curator. “I have business in the office. I shall be pleased to meet you again, Professor Dilling.”

Handley Matson departed, leaving Dilling in the long room that housed the Armsbury collection of Egyptian antiquities.

THE old man moved about from case to case, mumbling to himself as he studied hieroglyphs that appeared upon various objects.

At times he paused to look at the windows. They were high above the floor and heavily barred. All the doors about the place were massive. The old man remembered the museum as he had seen it from the outside. The place was a formidable fortress.

Strolling about the room, Professor Sturgis Dilling allowed a thin smile to form upon his lips. He studied the door of the tomb of Senwosri. He looked toward the end of the room reserved for mummies of lesser value.

The afternoon was glum and a pall seemed falling within this room. The old man, stalking noiselessly here and there, seemed like some ghostly figure out of Egypt. He was the only occupant of the room. His presence here seemed forgotten. At last, the old man’s inspection of the antiquities was ended. He came to the door of the room and picked up his briefcase and package.

The attendant had gone from the outer hall. It was near the closing hour and the whole museum was silent. Then came the clang of a bell. Attendants called to one another through the corridor.

Shortly afterward, the uniformed man appeared and entered the room where Sturgis Dilling had been. He saw that the old man had left. He was about to close the outer door when another attendant called to him from the curator’s office.

“Keep it open, Jerry! Mummies coming in. Stick around until the truck arrives. Curator’s orders.”

The attendant nodded. He turned on the lights in the room and sat down to read a newspaper that he took from his pocket. An hour passed. The museum, closed and barred, was as silent as the shut tomb of Senwosri.

Then came the tramp of footsteps in a corridor. Attendants and truckmen appeared carrying heavy mummy cases. The man in the room which housed the Armsbury collection was on his feet, pointing out the spot where the cases were to go.

Fifteen minutes later, a row of mummy cases lined the end of the room. The heavy objects were standing upright; their painted faces made them appear like a squad of solemn sentinels. The moving men went out, accompanied by an attendant. The other attendants remained, making jests as they studied the row of new exhibits.

The mummy cases bore fastenings that had kept them intact during shipment. These would be removed in the morning. It was approaching five o’clock and the attendants seldom waited until that hour. They reported at eight in the morning — an hour and half before opening — and that was the period during which new exhibits were arranged for proper display.

“Curator says he’ll look over the mummies in the morning,” declared an attendant, coming from the office.

“Come on. He’s leaving. Time to close.”

The group passed along the corridors to the rear entrance of the museum. This was where the truck had delivered the mummy cases. The curator and his secretary passed from the museum; the attendants followed. A big watchman shut the heavy door and barred it.

The Egyptian Museum was closed until the morrow.