"I'm trying to explain that this isn't a mummy from ancient Egypt, but a very recent fake."
A look of indignation passed over Chudleigh's face, which he tried unsuccessfully to cover up with a jolly bluster. "Now, now. What could a young girl possibly know about mummies, eh? Not much, I'd wager."
"Well, you'd be wrong, sir." Grandmother's gasp of shock made me realize that I had sounded rude, although I was just trying to point out that I most certainly did know things about mummies. "See how there aren't any amulets among the bandages? Most unusual. And look here. He's not wearing a linen tunic or skirt or even a loincloth. He's wearing ... a combination suit." I felt myself blush and heard a commotion behind me. A voice called out, "Get me some smelling salts!"
I glanced over my shoulder to find Admiral Sopcoate dragging Grandmother Throckmorton over to a settee. I gulped and turned back to face Father and Lord Chudleigh.
Chudleigh's face was quite red. "Now, see here..."
Father tugged at his collar. "I'm afraid she does point out some very legitimate irregularities, sir."
Chudleigh did not look happy to have my opinion confirmed. Afraid he would think that Father was only sticking up for me, I addressed Lord Snowthorpe. If anyone could recognize Tetley, it would be he. "What do you think, sir?"
With great reluctance, as if he had no wish to be near the center of this brewing controversy, Snowthorpe looked from me to Chudleigh, who was growing redder by the minute. I was afraid the poor man was going to have apoplexy.
"Do you recognize the mummy, sir?" I asked.
Snowthorpe gave me a patronizing look. "Now, now, my dear girl. I appreciate your faith in me, but I can't possibly recognize every mummy in Egypt."
Honestly, the man had a brain the size of a pea. Fighting down a growing frustration, I tried again. "Yes, but doesn't he look familiar? Haven't you seen that face before?"
Snowthorpe seemed horrified. "Where would I have seen this face before?"
I winced. "Just have a quick look, sir. If it really is Mr. Tetley from the British Museum, you'd know better than I."
Chudleigh said, "Yes, yes. Come have a look and prove this poor child is gravely mistaken."
Snowthorpe stepped up to the mummy's head and lifted his monocle. "Well, Tetley has been missing for the past few weeks. Left the office one morning and never returned."
"So it is possible," I said.
Chudleigh glared at me. "But that doesn't prove he'd go all the way to Egypt and get himself turned into a mummy!"
"I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose," I pointed out.
Father grabbed my elbow and walked me a few paces away from Chudleigh. "How on earth did you know Tetley?" he asked in a heated whisper.
Oh dear. I was so hoping he'd forget that particular question. "Um, he was very helpful to me once. On my last visit to the British Museum."
"What in the blazes were you doing there?" he asked.
I lowered my voice. "Just checking out the competition, Father. I didn't enjoy it a bit."
His face relaxed. "I should hope not," he said. Then he called out to Snowthorpe, "Well? What do you think? Is it this Tetley fellow?"
Snowthorpe lifted his gaze, his face deathly pale. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "I'm afraid it is."
The crowd erupted again and shocked whispers echoed throughout the room. Chudleigh speared me with a glare that clearly said he thought this was all my fault, as if I'd gone and masterminded the deception myself.
Someone moved forward to stand next to me, and I was relieved to find Wigmere at my side. Now we'd get somewhere.
Wigmere motioned the others to come closer, then lowered his voice. "If this really is Tetley, then we need to consider foul play and summon the authorities."
Chudleigh recoiled in horror. "Are you mad? Think of the scandal!"
I wasn't so sure what Chudleigh thought the scandal was—foul play or his being exposed as an ignorant boob.
"It can't be helped," Wigmere said.
"Well, let me at least get these people on their way, then," Chudleigh said. He glanced down at me as if I were an old rotten headcheese that had just appeared on his floor. "Clever girl," he said, but it was no compliment. More like a curse.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir," I heard Father say. "My daughter has been around Egyptian artifacts ever since she could walk. She was bound to pick up some of this knowledge along the way."
"Most unnatural way to bring up a child, if you ask me," Snowthorpe muttered.
"But we didn't ask you," Father said, bristling.
Chudleigh began walking away, stiff as a board. "Unnaturally clever," he grumbled.
With one last glance at me, Father hurried after him to try to smooth things over. I was left standing alone next to Wigmere. "It is Tetley," I whispered. "I'm sure of it."
"You know what this means, then?" He pulled his eyes away from the mummy, and the full weight of his heavy gaze hit me. "The Serpents of Chaos wanted us to find this. They wanted to send a message."
At the mention of the secret organization, my mouth grew dry. I was almost afraid to ask, "And what message is that, sir?"
"That we haven't seen the last of them. They'll be making another move. And soon."
I turned and looked out into the crowd, half expecting to see von Braggenschnott or Bollingsworth lurking there. But no, only Lord Chudleigh, bidding his guests a hasty farewell. "Do you think he's involved, sir?"
Wigmere followed my gaze. "I doubt it. I'm not sure the man's smart enough, for one thing. Chaos doesn't usually employ dimwits."
Wigmere appeared convinced, but I wasn't. It seemed to me it would be easy to hide a sharp mind under all that bluster and joviality.
I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Grandmother Throckmorton was waving Admiral Sopcoate away. She looked up just then, and our gazes met. Her wrath toward me seemed to give her strength and she surged to her feet. I glanced about desperately, looking for Mother or Father, but they were still hovering over by Lord Chudleigh, hoping to appease him.
When Grandmother reached me, she stared down at me with pinched nostrils. "You have finally gone too far. Someone needs to bring you to heel. If your parents won't see to it, then I will."
It wasn't as if I had done anything to the poor fellow. I just happened to notice the mummy wasn't an ancient Egyptian! And didn't anyone realize this meant someone had been murdered? And that the murdered body was propped up against the watered silk wallpaper right under our noses?
If you ask me, some people have no perspective.
CHAPTER THREE
Anubis Rising
FATHER SPENT ALL OF BREAKFAST glowering at me over his newspaper. It's surprising how being scowled at chases one's appetite clean away. I mostly picked at my toast.
Finally, he finished his eggs and kippers and put his paper down on the table with an angry rattle of the pages. "I've half a mind to leave you home today, Theodosia," he announced.
His words stopped me cold. He didn't really mean it, did he? He hadn't left me at home for years. "B-but Father ... if I'd known it was going to cause this much trouble, I would have kept quiet. It was just so clearly a fake. And," I said in a very small voice, "I just wanted to make you proud of me." I should have known by now that trying to impress Father never went as planned. Usually my efforts ended up being ignored, but now it appeared I'd graduated to inciting a near riot. I risked a glance at him just in time to see him exchange a look with Mother. With relief, I saw his expression soften.
"I do admire your ability to detect a fake, Theodosia. No emperor's new clothes for you, no matter how many others who should have known better were duped." He broke into a broad grin. "A true chip off the old block."