That diverted Inspector Turnbull's attention. Once again, Clive Fagenbush had come to my rescue. I hoped he wouldn't begin making a habit of that. I wasn't sure I wanted to have to change my opinion of him.
By the time Fagenbush had corroborated my story, one of the constables was heading back down the gangway.
"I just spoke to the captain. She was right, sir! Bollingsworth was there. Even better," he said, drawing closer and lowering his voice, "the captain said he had a gold guinea in his pocket, bold as brass."
I sent a silent prayer of thanks up for dear Snuffles and vowed to buy him a crate of handkerchiefs.
"Well, men have been known to carry guineas on them without any link to criminal activity," Turnbull said dryly. He turned to me. "However, coupled with everything else you've said, it appears you may be right."
I could tell by his face he hated admitting that, so I thought it rather jolly of him to be such a good sport.
"As soon as we've verified all that you've told us, if it checks out, I'll send your father home. That's the best I can promise."
"Oh, thank you, sir!"
It was an awkward cab ride back to the museum. Finally unable to stand it any longer, I pulled my gaze from the window and studied Clive Fagenbush. "How long have you worked for the Brotherhood?"
Fagenbush cast me a sideways glance. "Ten years."
"Really? That long?" I scooted forward on the seat. "Do you have a tattoo as well? Right here?" I tapped the base of my throat, where I knew other members of the Brotherhood carried a symbol of protection.
"No," he said. "Not yet."
Well, what kind of member was he if he didn't have a tattoo? He couldn't be very good, then.
Almost as if reading my thoughts, Fagenbush made an impatient gesture with his hand. "I've worked for them in this capacity for only three years. It takes five to become a full member, which is when you get your tattoo. And your ring," he said, a look of dark resentment flashing across his face as he glanced down to my own hand, which bore the ring Wigmere had given me after our Heart of Egypt adventures.
"Oh. Took you a while to work up to being an agent, then, did it?"
"It wasn't that," Fagenbush said through clenched teeth.
"No, no. Of course not."
There was a long silence as his distaste of speaking with me warred with his desire to clear his own record. "I'd wanted to be one of their agents ever since I first joined. But my brother joined their service first." I waited for him to say more, but he stopped abruptly.
"And..." I prompted.
"And," he said coldly, "he was killed in the line of duty. Wigmere refused to let me become a full agent because he felt that no mother should have to sacrifice both her sons to the Brotherhood." He returned his gaze to the window. "It wasn't until my mother passed on, three years ago, that he finally agreed to let me begin training."
I squirmed in my seat. I didn't want to know all this. It made Fagenbush much too human.
It also explained why Wigmere was so adamant that Fagenbush could be trusted.
"Here we are," Fagenbush announced without looking at me. He opened the door and stepped out of the hansom, then offered me his arm.
As I stared at the hand he held out to me, I realized I couldn't leave it floating there like a dying fish. Reminding myself that he had saved me—twice—I took it.
Once my feet were on the ground, however, I let go and flew toward the museum.
"Mother! Mother!" I burst into the foyer, which was empty, then rushed to the sitting room. Mother sat at the table, her head in her hands. At the sound of my voice, she looked up and tried to paste a smile onto her face. "Yes, darling?"
My good news nearly oozing out my pores, I ran right up to Mum and threw my arms around her. "I've got wonderful news. Inspector Turnbull is going to release Father!"
"What?" Mum half rose in her chair and clasped my arms in her hands to get me to slow down. "What are you saying, Theodosia?"
"It turns out it was Nigel Bollingsworth behind the mummy thefts, and Turnbull caught him red-handed. He found some stolen gold and knows where the missing mummies are and everything. Father's name's been cleared! As soon as Turnbull has a man free, he's going to send Father home."
"Oh, darling!" Mother wrapped me up in a huge warm hug. When she pulled back, there was a gleam in her eye. "I see no reason for your father to cool his heels in that jail cell one moment longer, do you? What do you say I run down and fetch him straightaway?"
"I say that's an excellent plan. The sooner the better," I agreed.
Mother grabbed her hat and coat and disappeared out the door. I was still so full of good cheer that I flung my arms out and twirled around, reveling in the fact that Father was going to be free, free, free!
Once I stopped twirling and the room stopped spinning, I remembered I had a few things to do before my parents returned.
But first things first. I needed to check on the staff.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Reunions
RESIGNED TO DESCENDING into the catacombs alone once again, I turned on the lights, gripped my amulets in my hand, and proceeded down the stairs, nearly tripping over Isis, who sat at the foot. she was staring at the stone statue of Anubis, her tail twitching back and forth.
The jackal himself sat proudly on top of his shrine, the staff and orb settled carefully between his front paws.
"Thank you," I said. "I couldn't have done it without you." Then, even though I knew he couldn't really feel it, I reached out and scratched the top of his ears, hoping he would somehow be able to sense how pleased I was with him. There was a whisper of movement near his backside, but when I turned to get a better look, all was still. Even so, I would have sworn his tail had wagged, just for an instant.
I left the jackal and went to the shelving to look for an old Canopic jar. Unfortunately, I'd left the execration figure in the hansom cab, and the atropaic wand was undoubtedly on the floor of the Dreadnought's wardroom. I was quite sorry about that, as I hated to misuse museum property.
I did have one item to return, however. Gingerly, I pulled the cursed rope from my pinafore pocket and plunked it into a jar. Then I carefully put the top back on. I'd have to come back down the next day with my curse-removal kit so I could seal the jar, but this would do till then.
As I placed the jar on the shelf, I heard a small cough at the top of the stairway. I hastened over to find Will staring down at me.
"Wigmere's come to see you," he said. "'E's waiting in the reading room."
"Oh, excellent! I have so many questions for him." I took the stairs two at a time and followed Will to the reading room. "How's Snuffles?" I asked.
Will's face brightened. "'E's sitting right pretty, 'e is. 'E proved 'imself today. Might be a future for 'im yet."
Before I had too much time to dwell on Snuffles's dubious future as a pickpocket, Will motioned me inside the room. I found Wigmere in my carrel, holding his hat in one hand and his cane in the other. He was studying something on my desk.
I must have made a sound of some sort, because Wigmere looked up just then. "Ah, good afternoon, my dear."
"Good afternoon, sir."
Wigmere gestured at my desk. "Someone is doing some very interesting work here on the Egyptian calendar."
"Oh, thank you, sir. It keeps me out of trouble. Or so Father says."
His large white mustache twitched. "Indeed. Well, it's very fine work, my girl. And speaking of fathers," he said, "yours should be home very soon."
"Yes, Mum's gone to fetch him home." It was hard to keep from dancing on my toes, but that seemed too undignified to do in front of Wigmere.