There were Henry's marbles, his crumbly old tart, and a few ripped shreds of his book. I glanced up at Tetley, awareness dawning. His mut was haunting Henry! The Egyptians had always believed young children were much more vulnerable than adults to spiritual influences and hauntings from the underworld. And as if that weren't enough, Henry had sounded the ivory clappers in the workroom. Normally, they needed to be clapped three times to drive away an evil spirit: once to call the spirit's attention; the second time to exert influence over the spirit, insisting it obey; and the third time to drive it away.
I hadn't given any thought to it before because I'd assumed Henry was wearing the amulet I had given him. But now here it lay, on the floor. I picked it up and slipped it over my head.
Tetley's ba,restless and unhappy, had now become a mut and was lingering on earth, moping and miserable. He was no doubt upset at the lack of a proper burial and had been busily collecting what he would need in the afterlife. They weren't exactly honey cakes and shabtis, but they were things that would sustain him and keep him entertained.
Poor Tetley! But at least I had an answer for Henry. The trick would be getting him to believe me, or at least creating enough doubt in his mind so that he wouldn't tell our parents.
Determined to make him understand, I started back up the stairs, stopping when I felt the heavy bump against my leg. I headed back over to the Canopic shrine and tucked the Orb of Ra safely away inside it. "Sorry about that," I told the statue, then hastened to get on with my morning.
Luckily, the curators hadn't shown up yet. As I crossed the empty foyer, I was so focused on my explanation for Henry that the faint rap on the window nearly made me jump out of my skin. Will! I'd forgotten we were to meet today. I went outside to join him, where he'd taken up position behind a birch tree.
"Morning, miss."
"Good morning. I'd actually forgot you were coming today."
Will snorted. "I already told you, I ain't goin' to let a cou ple of 'oity-toits keep me from the most interestin' job I've ever 'ad!"
"Right. Well, in this case, I don't think Wigmere would mind a great deal. So very much has happened! I'm sure he'll want to know about it as soon as possible." Then I filled Will in on all the details of the Black Sun break-in and Awi Bubu's intervention. When I finished, he whistled in appreciation. "Can't wait to 'ear what ol' Wiggy says about all that."
"Surely he will agree that it is of utmost importance. Besides"—I perked up—"you can tell him Fagenbush hasn't arrived yet so I can't very well use him. Now, did you get everything? Do you want to repeat it back to me?"
"No, I got it." He tipped his cap to me. "Be back soon, with instructions," he said.
As I pulled my eyes away from Will, I noticed a lone figure hurrying into the museum. Stilton had arrived. At the sight of him, I felt my anger at last night's betrayal return in full force. He and I needed to have a talk.
I decided to wait for Stilton in his office, ambush him, as it were. It was the least he deserved for betraying me—our entire museum!—to Trawley, leading that wretched man into our midst to steal something.
I didn't have to wait long. Stilton let himself into his office looking drawn and pale. He was clearly distracted and didn't even see me until I cleared my throat. He flinched so hard, he dropped the small white box he'd been carrying; it landed on the floor with a faint plop.
"Miss Theodosia!" he said. "You startled me."
"Well, I'm very sorry about that, but we need to talk."
He quickly and guiltily averted his eyes from mine and bent to retrieve his package. When he stood back up, a warm, rich smell wafted toward me. My stomach growled. Mortified, I clamped my hand over my middle and prayed he hadn't heard.
Rather tentatively, he held the box out to me. "I-I th-thought you might be hungry this morning, what with staying here last night and all."
He looked so miserable and hopeful all at once that a small portion of my ire disappeared. "Thank you," I said, taking the box. Of course, it didn't hurt that he'd brought food as a peace offering. When I opened the box, hot cross buns peeked out. "Oh, thank you!" I said again, this time with much more feeling. I plucked one from the box, savoring the warmth on my fingers.
While Stilton hung up his hat and overcoat, I perched on the edge of a chair and devoured my bun.
"Have another," he said, taking a seat at his desk.
"Aren't you going to have any?" I asked, reaching for a second one.
He shook his head. "I'm not hungry. They're all for you. And Henry, if you think he'd like some."
I took a third then closed the box, realizing I should save some for Henry. Besides, it might make a good peace offering over the Book Incident.
Stilton truly did look awful. He had dark shadows under his eyes, and his whole demeanor was dejected and droopy. "So," I said. "About last night..."
Stilton looked away and began gathering some papers. "I'm most sorry about that, Miss Theo."
I waited for him to elaborate, but he became very busy shuffling his papers and trying to get them in the right order. "Stilton," I finally said in exasperation. "What on earth possessed you to allow Trawley and the others to come into the museum after hours?"
His shoulders slumped and he tossed the pile of papers back on his desk. "I had no choice, actually."
"What do you mean, you had no choice?" Adults always had choices; it was us children who were usually boxed in.
"He would have booted me from the Order." He looked distraught at the prospect.
"Would that really have been so very bad?" I asked gently.
Stilton's appalled gaze flew to mine. "Oh, yes! It would be terrible! Th-they're my family."
"They're not much of a family," I pointed out.
He looked away and began fiddling with the pen on his blotter. "They're all I have, miss."
"But what about your real family? Don't you have any brothers or sisters?" It was rather rude, asking such personal questions, but it seemed important that I understand Stilton better. Especially if I had any hope of ever trusting him.
"Four brothers and two sisters, miss. All older than me." He glanced up and blinked rapidly. "You might say I'm the runt of the litter. In fact, my father often did," he said, making a valiant attempt at humor. He hauled himself to his feet and went over to study his bookshelf as if he were looking for something. "My brothers were all big, burly fellows, you see, and I, I wasn't. I was sickly as a child."
I could only imagine the horror of being sickly with four hale and hearty older brothers to give you grief about it. "What about at school? Surely there were others like you there."
"Not much luck there either, I'm afraid." He continued studying the bookshelf as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "Wasn't good at sports. And, you probably wouldn't know it, but I used to stutter a bit too."
No need to spell out what that meant. I suddenly had a vision of a scrawny, stuttering ten-year-old Stilton and all the beastliness that awaited him at school; how utterly alone he must have been.
"The Arcane Order of the Black Sun is the first place I've ever managed to fit in. They didn't care how tall I was or how strong. We shared a common interest that made everything else irrelevant." He turned from the bookshelf and straightened his shoulders a bit. "I guess you could say it's the fellowship part of it. Being united with colleagues in a common p-purpose."
An awkward silence opened up between us. "But Stilton, what is their purpose? Do you know? Why did Trawley break in here last night?"