"Stop!" I shouted. Awi Bubu's mouth snapped shut and he turned to look at me. So did everyone else.
"Stop what, Theodosia?" Father asked, annoyed at the interruption.
How was I to explain? Glancing around frantically, I spied Henry. "It was Henry. He was pinching me."
"Was not!" Henry said, outraged.
"Were too," I replied, desperate to create a diversion from my inexplicable behavior.
"Silence!" Father barked.
I bowed my head, shame heating my cheeks. But Awi Bubu was no longer muttering his chant.
"Not to worry, guv'nor," one of the constables said. "Young'uns will be young'uns."
"Now," Turnbull said, "I suggest you allow us to press charges against this vagrant and be on our way."
"No, Inspector," Mother said. "That will not be necessary. I think we can all agree that there were extenuating circumstances in his situation. After all, one cannot expect a man to willingly subject himself to a beating when there is an open door at hand."
Inspector Turnbull was clearly not happy with this. "But ma'am..."
Awi Bubu bowed again. "Thank you, madam. I only hope I can return the kindness someday."
"Well, actually...," Mum replied. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to talk to you sometime about your work at the Antiquities Service in Cairo."
"But of course. Whatever madam wishes."
"Perhaps you could come tomorrow at two o'clock?"
Awi Bubu bowed yet again. "As you wish. Until tomorrow then." With that, Awi Bubu gave one last bow and walked toward the door. We all stared after him until he disappeared. Then Inspector Turnbull said to my parents, "I'd be careful of that one, I would. Who knows what someone of his kind might be up to."
"Someone of what kind?" Mother asked frostily.
Turnbull blinked. "Someone who spends his nights in parks and museums, madam," he replied, just as icily.
"We'll take all due care, Inspector," Father interjected before we all got frostbite. "And thank you for your quick response."
While the adults exchanged goodbyes, I slipped away down the hall. As soon as I was out of their sight, I burst into a run, determined to catch up to Awi Bubu. When I stepped outside the museum, he was already half a block away. "Wait!" I called out, doubling my speed in an effort to reach him before he disappeared.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fagenbush Issues a Challenge
AWI BUBU SLOWLY TURNED AROUND, folded his arms together, and gave a precise little bow. "Little Miss has need of me?"
"No, I don't have need of you," I huffed out, trying to catch my breath. "But I want to know what you were doing snooping around our museum last night."
"I believe Little Miss was there when I explained it to your constabibbles. I was headed to the park—"
"I don't believe that for a minute! Two days after we first meet, you just happen to walk by our museum?"
"Ah, but Little Miss told me her parents worked at the British Museum, did she not? How was I to know she had lied to me?"
Bother. He had me there. Well, as Father always says, the best defense is a good offense. "What about that utter bunk you told Mother about working at the Antiquities Service in Cairo?"
"But it is not, as you call it, bunk. It is the truth. I worked there before I was exiled from my country."
I studied the wiry little man. It was hard to believe that a performing street magician had once worked in one of the most important archaeological organizations in the world. But then, it was also hard to believe that grown men wore black robes and hoods and belonged to secret societies.
"Will I have the pleasure of seeing Little Miss when I return tomorrow?" Awi Bubu asked, as if we were having a polite chat.
I glared at him. "You can bet on it. I know you're up to something, and I will not let you trick my parents with any of your shenanigans."
"Little Miss is a most devout skeptic," he said, then gave one of his infernal bows and took his leave. Before I could so much as turn toward the museum, Henry's voice accosted me. "Why were you talking to that man?"
"Henry!" I whirled around, wondering how much he'd heard. "What are you doing out here?"
He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. "What did he mean when he said you told him your parents worked for the British Museum? Father isn't going to be very happy about that, you know."
"No, Henry, you mustn't tell him!"
"I don't see why not. seems I owe you one for making up such tommyrot about me. As if I'd pinch a girl!" he said, clearly still furious with me.
I stepped forward. "Henry, I didn't have any choice. Really."
He snorted and turned back toward the museum. "wait!" I hurried to catch up to him.
He stopped and scowled at me. "Why should I listen to a word you say? First you leave me twiddling my thumbs at the train station, then you make up lies to get me in trouble with Father. In front of strangers, no less! Any truce we might have reached last time I was home is long over."
"No, no, Henry. Let me explain. There are perfectly good reasons for everything." My mind raced as I wondered just how much I should—or could—tell him. "There is so much that isn't what it seems."
He kicked at a pebble. "Go on. I'm listening. And it had better be good." He folded his arms across his chest.
"Not here." I looked around the square, uncertain if any of the scorpions might be lurking nearby. "Down in the catacombs, where no one else can hear us."
He rolled his eyes. "Quit playing at being so mysterious."
"I'm not. You'll understand once I explain."
Luckily the foyer was empty when we returned to the museum. Neither the constables nor Flimp nor my parents were in sight. We even managed to miss Fagenbush as we hurried down to the catacombs.
Henry reached the bottom of the stairs first. "Hey! Where's that Emerald Tablet?"
My heart lurched in my chest at his words until I remembered that Henry didn't know I'd hidden it last night. I sailed past him to the shelf and lifted the wooden shield. "I hid it under this. Just in case."
"Just in case of what?" Henry scoffed.
"Intruders in the museum," I told him.
He stared at me blankly for a moment before the penny dropped. "You mean you knew that old Egyptian guy would come looking for it?"
"Well, not him exactly," I admitted. "But it did occur to me that someone might come after it."
"But only you and I and Stilton knew—oh! You thought Stilton might come after it?" He frowned, puzzled. "I always liked Stilton."
"Me too, Henry, but there are many strange things afoot these days." Still uncertain how much to tell him, I took a deep breath. He had to know some of it, if only so he could stay safe. And really, a second set of eyes keeping a lookout for odd goings-on couldn't hurt. Surely it was all right for him to know as much as Sticky Will did. That seemed reasonable. "You remember how I told you I'd gone to Egypt on Wigmere's orders?"
Henry stopped fidgeting.
"There's rather more to it than that." I paused, trying to get my thoughts in order.
"Go on," he said.
"I'm still keeping an eye on things for Wigmere. But there are others involved too. Remember von Braggenschnott?"
"I'm not likely to forget him, given that he nearly killed Sticky Will."