The Quest of Julian Day (44 page)

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Authors: Dennis Wheatley

Tags: #Fiction, #Action & Adventure

BOOK: The Quest of Julian Day
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With shaking fingers I fumbled for my lighter and relit the candle. The sarcophagus-chamber was as empty as before. I picked the candle up, tiptoed all round the vault and even out into the passage-way as far as the pit. But there was nothing there and as I listened the dread stillness of the grave remained unbroken.

Returning fearfully to the burial chamber I went over to the big stone coffin, the edge of which was nearly as high as my shoulder, and peered down into it. The bath-shaped piece of granite was quite empty except for a triangular piece of its broken lid. With considerable labour I had managed to carry a larger portion of the lid out into the corridor some time before as part of my plan against Oonas and Sayed; and with even greater exertion, had slightly shifted another great Jump
that was resting on one end of it so that it only just balanced and would fall on the floor if I gave it a quick tilt. The pieces were just as I had left them and there was nothing lurking under the shadowed sides of the coffin which could account for the horror I had experienced.

For a few awful moments, while I mopped the dampness from my brow, I was terrified by the thought that some horrible, supernatural thing must be an inhabitant of my prison. If ever there were a place suited for a ghost to haunt, surely the desecrated tomb of a Pharaoh was one. I recalled the stories of archæologists who had been overtaken by a sinister fate which the superstitious ascribed to the revenge of the dead spirits whose graves had been tampered with.

Having dabbled a little with the occult in my Oxford days I knew enough of it to be convinced that although many of the people posing as mediums are nothing but charlatans others possess powers which are quite inexplicable and that spontaneous supernatural manifestations do occur. Yet somehow I had the feeling that there was nothing of that kind about this place. Its deadly stillness was a natural thing; it had no suggestion of that sinister chill that nearly always accompanies any evil thing which has broken through the thin veil protecting us from the unseen earth-plane. In some curious way the mild warmth of the vault gave it an almost friendly atmosphere; or perhaps it would be better to describe it as impersonal. It was just an empty room with attractive decorations on its walls—no more, no less; and it gave one the impression that it was simply a shell from which any personality or spirit that might once have inhabited it had long since departed. In spite of my terror I had a deep-seated conviction that no hostile, psychic force lingered in it.

Yet to be on the safe side, I did a thing which may sound stupid as I write it but which was done with all earnestness at that time. I set the candle on the floor and standing with my arms outstretched before me so that my hands were above the level of my head, which was the attitude adopted by the Ancients when they prayed, I addressed myself to Thothmes III; telling him quite seriously, as though I were addressing a person, that I had only visited his grave in reverence and that being confined there against my own will I begged for his forbearance for my intrusion and his protection during my hours of trial.

Another quarter of an inch of my candle had burnt away by this time and although I hated to do so, it was so precious to me that I positively forced myself to put it out.

I knew pretty well what was in my pockets so I had not bothered to run through them before, but now I thought the time had come to make a full mental list of all the things I had upon me. The feel of them was quite enough to tell me what they were and so, sitting down again, I ran through them in the darkness.

There were my keys, some Egyptian coins, mainly silver, a pocket-knife and my lighter in my trousers pockets. In my coat I had half-a-bottle of fruit-drops that I had bought from the chemist in Luxor and these I counted my greatest treasure as I knew that by sucking one every few hours I should be able to relieve the dryness of my mouth when thirst set in. There were also some old hotel bills, a pencil, a few pounds in Egyptian bank-notes, my cheque-book and my cigarette-case which contained nine cigarettes; while round my waist I had my money-belt which still contained a good sum in English tenners. It was not until I felt in the ticket-pocket of my coat that I discovered something I had completely forgotten and for which I was boundlessly grateful. It was a small, flat bottle of aspirin tablets, about two-thirds full; these, I realised with immense joy, would ensure me a sound sleep and the longer I could sleep the longer I could conserve my energy. It seemed almost as though the spirit of Thothmes III had interceded with the Great Ones for me and they had sent an answer to my prayer.

For a little I thought with regret of my hip-flask which I nearly always carried when I went on an expedition but by chance had neglected to bring that morning; yet on consideration I felt that perhaps it was for the best that I had not got it with me as I was extremely doubtful of the effects of neat brandy in quenching a fiery thirst. I was rather inclined to suppose that it would have done more harm than good; and if I started to suffer from thirst really badly it might have proved a greater temptation than I could resist.

I looked at my watch again hoping that it might be time for me to get a sleep but to my amazement and distress it was barely
three o'clock. I nearly broke down and wept as I thought of the almost inconceivable way in which time crawled in my dark and silent tomb. Yet time could mean nothing to me for the next two days at least. Dawn and dusk ceased to operate beyond the iron gates of the tomb nearly a quarter of a mile above the place where I was sitting; there was no reason whatever why I should wait until nightfall before I attempted to exclude my fears and miseries by the blessed expedient of sleep.

It was then that the Thing came at me again; it was light as a feather-duster, but as surely as though it had been a ton of bricks I knew that something had brushed over my hair. I did not scream this time but started violently back, knocking my still aching head on the stone coffin against which I was leaning. The pain, which had died down a little although it had been present the whole time as a monotonous nag in the background of my thoughts, now started up again with renewed vigour and for a little it racked me so that I was too miserable to be quite so much afraid; yet my terror of that unseen Thing which had come at me twice out of the darkness was still so great that I quickly lit the candle once again.

Picking it up I made a further search; determined this time to run the horror to earth unless it was indeed some supernatural manifestation: I made the round of the chamber again and quartered it, holding the candle high, but I found nothing and was about to give up when a faint squeak caught my ear. Looking up at the low ceiling I saw the solution of my mystery—a little brown bat was clinging there.

If I had not been so overwrought I should probably have thought of bats before. How they exist without water in these great underground caverns is more that I can explain but perhaps they feed upon some tiny insects which are almost invisible to the human eye, as one certainly never see flies, spiders or any other creatures of that kind in the tombs. On numerous occasions before I had seen small bats, apparently asleep, on the roofs of the passages and chambers in other tombs that I had visited.

Bats are unpleasant creatures but only because they carry vermin and I was so relieved to know that my funk had had a natural cause that I found myself laughing a little inanely. These little brown creatures are an entirely different species
from the blood-sucking vampire variety so I had no cause to fear that they might attack me while I slept.

Dowsing my candle again I made myself as comfortable as I could on the ground and took out my little bottle of aspirin. There were fourteen tablets in it and I decided that while eight would not be sufficient to harm me they would ensure a real long sleep. One by one I swallowed them. The bat touched my face twice again, but I brushed it off and after what seemed an hour, but was actually probably less than a quarter of that time. I feel into a dreamless slumber.

When I woke I found from my watch that it was a quarter-past six and I wondered if I had slept three hours or fifteen. In view of the quantity of aspirin I had taken I felt pretty confident it was the longer period, particularly as ever since my arrival in Egypt I had hardly had a full night's undisturbed rest, and the number of turns it took to rewind my watch confirmed my impression.

My head had stopped aching and, all things considered, I felt extremely well. Although I had not eaten for getting on for twenty-four hours I did not feel particularly hungry, just that I would have welcomed a good, hearty breakfast but no more. On the other hand I badly needed a drink. But I put the thought firmly from me, knowing that I should only need it worse if I began to visualise large cups of tea; and I started to employ myself in thinking how I could best occupy my mind during the day.

If only I had had some light there were a dozen ways in which I might have kept my mind off my anxieties and appetites. Two or three hours at least could have been spent in examining the wall-paintings of the large, oval chamber in detail and trying to puzzle out the meaning of the many symbolic pictures portraying the Pharaoh's journey through the underworld and his trial before the gods. Then, even at the cost of defacing some of them, I could have drawn things myself, or worked out complicated sums, or scribbled lines of verse, just as prisoners have done on the walls of their cells from time immemorial; yet all such activities were barred to me because I dared not burn more of my treasured candle-stump except for special purposes.

One thing I was determined on and that was to write an
account, on the backs of the bills I had in my pocket, of how Oonas and Sayed had left me there to die; so that if I were dead by the time they returned there would be some chance of their being brought to justice even if my body were only discovered in a cleft of the hills years later. But I decided to reserve that until the afternoon.

I took out a cigarette and lit it. The sight of its glowing end like a firefly in that impenetrable darkness, cheered me a little but I got no joy at all out of the tobacco; it did not seem to taste of anything and the smoke from it was invisible. In the belief that tobacco is a form of nourishment I smoked it to the very end by the old expedient of sticking its butt on a pin which I found in my lapel.

The silence began to get on my nerves again so I started to hold a sing-song with myself and if anybody had entered the tomb early that morning they would have been extremely surprised to hear the strains of ‘Flat-Foot Floogy' or ‘Mademoiselle from Armentières' echoing up from the sometime resting-place of the Napoleon of Egypt. I can't remember how many songs I sang before my voice got tired but it must have been several dozens and I occupied some hours that way as my watch showed it to be ten o'clock by the time I got so husky that I had to chuck it up.

The unbroken quiet settled down round me once again and never have I known such utter stillness. It was eternal night with not even the tiny noises of small, scurrying animals or the drip of water on a rock which one would have heard in the most desolate country above ground.

By midday thirst was beginning to worry me so I sucked one of my fruit-drops, turning it round and round into every corner of my mouth. That relieved me for the time being so, while the going was good, I decided to try to get another sleep, on the theory that he who sleeps, dines.

The hard ground on which I had to lie, eased only a little by its coating of sand and dust, was no aid to slumber but I pillowed my head on my arm and after what seemed an interminable time of twisting and turning, drifted off.

I don't know what time I woke again as I made up my mind that I would remain there dozing as long as I possibly could; but eventually my increasing thirst got the better of me and I
felt that I could no longer resist allaying it a little with another fruit-drop. Actually I had done better than I thought as I had managed to hang out until nearly five o'clock.

I was hungry now and try as I would I could not stop myself from thinking, with an appalling longing, of a good square meal including all my favourite dishes. I smoked again and sucked another couple of sweets.

Somehow I managed to get through the next two hours and at seven, with almost ritual solemnity, I lit the candle for the purpose of writing my denunciation of Oonas on the back of the bills.

That filled in only a bare half-hour as, although I would have liked to cover every inch of paper with minute writing, I could not possibly afford the light for more than a meagre outline of my story.

Although I knew it was too soon to do so, I tried to sleep again; but sleep simply would not come and it occurred to me that a little mild exercise might keep me employed for a bit, so I started to walk up and down. It was a queer sensation as at first I was constantly afraid of banging into something in the darkness; and walked only a few cautious steps each way with my head held back and my hands thrust out instinctively before me. But after a time I got used to it and started a steady, sentry-go, fifteen paces forward and fifteen paces back, striding out with gradually-increasing confidence as I learned better how to turn exactly in the dark without losing my sense of direction and cannoning into the sarcophagus or the wall. Once I got into the rhythm of the thing I started to count, making up my mind to do five thousand paces, which I estimated would be about three miles. The rhythmic movement did me good and I could have gone on much longer if I had not thought it essential to conserve my strength.

It was half-past nine when I sat down again, had another cigarette and followed it with two more fruit-drops. To my annoyance I did not feel the least bit sleepy and the exercise had had the regrettable effect of increasing my hunger; so I tightened the strap at the back of my trousers while I endeavoured to put away from me the vision of hen lobsters, roast duck, asparagus and bubble-and-squeak.

As those visions of luscious dishes simply would not leave
me I hit on the idea of making them serve me to while away a little time, and in my mind I planned a series of magnificent banquets, selecting for each course its appropriate wine. This led me to making up after-dinner speeches for various occasions, and among them the most amusing were proposing the health of a rival politician in whose cup one would have liked to put poison, and the welcome extended by King Bongo-Bongo to the Lord Mayor of Dunderhead preparatory to eating his own guest.

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