I, however, lingered in the foyer, hoping for the chance to conduct a Level Two Test on the mut—the dangerous dead—left by the mummy. If I could pinpoint the restless spirit's location, I could remove it.
Except the foyer was bustling with activity. Dolge, Sweeny, and two other porters were still lugging mummies down to Receiving. Odd. I thought they had made better progress the day before. Perhaps there were simply more of them than I had realized.
I was glad to see they were wearing the same coveralls as before. With luck, the wedjat eyes would still be in their pockets, offering them protection.
Dolge grunted and lifted a linen-wrapped form while Sweeny grabbed the other end. "I swear these ruddy things are multiplying like rabbits," Sweeny said.
Dolge muttered, "Watch out. Keep yer head low. Here comes His Nibs."
Both he and Sweeny ducked their heads and got very busy moving the mummy into the hall, only just managing to miss vicary Weems as he came storming around the corner, a cowed Stilton and defiant Fagenbush trailing after him.
"See?" Weems thrust out his arm toward the wall. "This is what I'm talking about. I distinctly told you to return them to their exhibits yesterday, yet here they remain. Which leads me to ask, what were you doing with your time yesterday, if not attending to the tasks I'd set you?"
What rubbish! Surely the idiot was just making up excuses to reprimand them—I myself had seen both of them the day before, returning the mummies to their exhibits.
Except when I looked, I saw that, indeed, all our mummies were still in the foyer. How suspicious! Unless...
Unless they had been moved yesterday, but they'd returned this morning by the power of the staff? That would explain why no one had made any progress...
My musings were interrupted by a knock on the front door. "See who it is, Stilton," Weems ordered.
Stilton flinched, tugged on his ear, then went to go open the door. It was Inspector Turnbull. I slipped into the shadows behind one of the marble pillars.
The inspector took one look around the foyer. "Can't you lot hurry it up? I've got irate keepers and private collectors breathing down my neck."
Weems stepped forward. "I'm sorry, sir. I've told the men to hurry, but you know how employees are."
Turnbull shot him a look from under his thunderous eyebrows. "Where's Throckmorton? I've got a few more questions for him."
"No doubt," Weems said in a way that made me want to slug him. "I'll send Stilton along to find him. Won't you have a seat?"
"No, I think I'll go find him myself. Lead the way," he said to Stilton. Stilton shot a questioning glance at Weems, who shooed them along.
While I would have loved to have heard Turnbull's conversation with my parents, the returning mummies gave renewed urgency to my research. I hurried to my stack of books.
I planned to focus that day's research on Osiris, looking specifically for any mention of his staff. Before I opened the door to my carrel, I checked to see if my single hair was still above the door latch. It was. My studies were undisturbed.
The first book I opened was Osiris: Lord of the Underworld. The author, Anatole Quillings, wrote, Osiris is not only the god of the Underworld and afterlife, but also of resurrection. It is to him that the Egyptians direct their prayers, hoping they will be resurrected in the afterlife.
Hmmm. Were mummies getting up and walking the same as being resurrected? If not, surely it was very close.
I read the next paragraph and nearly squealed in excitement. In addition to the crook and flail, Osiris possessed a staff that wielded great power over the dead. I leaned in closer to look at the picture in the book. It showed Osiris sitting in judgment during the Weighing of the Heart ceremony. The staff he held in his right hand could have been the same one, but it was an old book and the etching was rough.
Sighing in frustration, I turned to a new book I'd discovered just last month: Myths of the Egyptian Underworld. I was thrilled to find this book had an entire section on Osiris. Perhaps now I could make some serious progress. I scanned the pages, looking for mention of a staff. Aha! Here it was!
The Staff of Osiris was one of his greatest treasures. The golden orb held in the jackal's mouth was fashioned by Ra himself and holds the power of life. This staff gave Osiris power over the dead by holding out the promise of life before them. This was the staff he used to resurrect those in the afterlife.
I gulped. How could I have in my possession one of the most powerful legendary artifacts in Egyptian history? It was supposed to be just a myth. However, a myth didn't explain all the mummies hovering over the staff in the basement. Or all the mummies congregating in our hallway. Well, there was only one way to get to the bottom of this.
It was time to conduct a test.
I had to be scientific about it. I had to see if I could use the staff to raise the dead. Of course, the only problem was where to find something dead. My parents most likely wouldn't be agreeable to stopping by a graveyard on the way home. Well, neither would I, for that matter.
There were the mummies, of course, but I already knew the staff worked on them. That was how they all got to our museum in the first place.
I slowly made my way to the catacomb stairs, wracking my brain to come up with a dead thing. As I passed through the foyer, I had a burst of inspiration. The mouse! With any luck, it would still be over against the wall among the mummies. (Flimp was a good watchman, but he wasn't very good at keeping things tidy.)
I lurked in the hallway, wanting to be sure all the others were off busily returning mummies. When the foyer was empty, I hurried over to the wall, my eyes glued to the floorboards. I was pretty sure the mouse had bounced off DjaDja Betuke, a Middle Dynasty mummy. She was supremely recognizable due to her watermelon-size head and I was able to pick her out immediately, relieved that she hadn't already been returned to her exhibit. Now the only question was, had she been standing in the same place the day before when Miss Chittle had launched the mouse at her?
"Excuse me," I muttered, trying to wedge my head between her and the mummy standing next to her. Their shadows puddled against the wall, making it hard to see, not to mention it had been a rather small mouse.
"What are you looking for, Theo?"
Edgar Stilton's voice startled me so badly that I jerked into DjaDja and nearly sent her plummeting to the ground. "N-nothing," I said, reaching out to steady her. "One of Isis's toys, actually. A stuffed mouse. You haven't seen it by any chance, have you?"
"No, I don't think so." His left eye began twitching so rapidly that he had to put his hand up to stop it, although he made it look as though he was just rubbing his temple. "Would you like some help looking for it?"
"No, thank you. I would hate for you to put yourself to any trouble. Besides, Mr. Weems would never approve."
Stilton made a faint grimace. "True enough."
Then Clive Fagenbush appeared and they began discussing which mummy to take up next. I continued making my way down the row, but it wasn't until nearly the end that I found a small shape huddled near the baseboards behind the mummy formerly known as Tetley. Any other mummy would have been preferable to this one. Mummies you had once known in real life were far creepier than ancient ones. Muttering "Forgive me," I bent down near his feet and reached for the mouse, grateful that I always wore gloves. They were excellent protection not only against magic, but also against dead furry things.