"What," Amelia demanded, sweeping a lock of hair out of her face and tucking it back, "was that?"

"A mummy, lady, just stay- Ow!" the American yelped as he stepped with quite satisfactory swiftness out of the way of Amelia - and her trusty parasol - letting her get a good look at the . . . something walking up the steps of the tomb.

"Mummies do not just get up and go for walks!" Amelia said firmly, frowning and tapping her parasol thoughtfully against her boot even as the young woman stepped up and brushed her arm, offering an explanation in a sheepishly quiet voice.

Emerson was going to be disastrously upset, Amelia thought, letting herself be drawn away from the window and preparing to listen, whatever they had to say.