"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.
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"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.
I stood back up and found Clive Fagenbush watching me
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with his beady little eyes. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked, balancing the top end of a New Kingdom scribe in excellent condition.
Stilton looked up from the other end of the royal mummy. "She's just looking for one of Isis's toys. Oh! Found it, did you? Good job." He gently pushed his end, prodding Fagenbush with the other end. "Let's get moving, shall we? Before Weems comes round to clean our clocks again."
Sending a silent thank-you Stilton's way, I gingerly grasped the mouse by the tail and hurried for the catacombs.
***
I paused at the top of the stairs to listen. Hearing nothing, I decided it was safe to proceed. At the foot of the steps, I saw that none of the mummies had moved. Thankfully, it didn't look as if the Anubis statue had moved again, either. Which reminded me. I needed to research how to permanently remove the curse that had allowed him to spring to life the other day. But first things first.
I set the little mouse down onto the floor, then retrieved the staff from its hiding place. Seven mummified heads followed it. Most eerie.
I pointed the head of the staff at the mouse, wondering
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what I was supposed to do to get it to work. Shake it, maybe? Say something? But before I thought much further than that, the mouse twitched.
I glanced at the mummies, worried the staff might affect them somehow. But except for their painted eyes tracking the staff's movements intently, they seemed unchanged.
The mouse, however, twitched again. I leaned forward to see better. The mouse gave a shudder, then stretched his little arms and legs. He rolled over onto his feet, sniffed the air, and made a mad dash for the nearest shelf, which he disappeared beneath.
Well. I let out a long breath. That worked. It was indeed the Staff of Osiris.
A creak sounded behind me. My heart in my throat, I whirled around, terrified that one of the mummies had decided to come a little closer. But no, they were all lined up where they had been.
Anxious to get this most powerful artifact out of my hands, I shoved it under the shelf where the mouse had disappeared. It was still close to the mummies, but not out in plain sight.
I stood up and brushed off my skirt. My next order of business was to get word to Wigmere. Immediately.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN FEELING THE PINCH
***
I HURRIED UP TO THE FOYER , anxious to get a look out the window and see if Will was waiting outside for a message as Wigmere had said he would be. Instead, I received a nasty shock. My parents were there, greeting Grandmother Throckmorton, who had just arrived with yet another governess candidate. Where did she find them all? And so quickly!
"Good morning, Mother," Father said.
Grandmother gave him a regal nod. "Alistair. Henrietta. I thought we'd best get here before another new scandal erupted."
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"Now, Mother ..." Father began.
But she caught sight of me and interrupted him. "Theodosia." She smiled, which was so startling, I forgot to curtsy. "I have found you the perfect governess. This is Miss Elizabeth Sharpe, and she's agreed to try to bring you to hand."
The young woman standing next to her blushed prettily, and I do mean prettily. She had pale gold hair and big blue eyes, and she smiled demurely at the compliment Grandmother had just paid her. Father stood staring at her stupidly until Mum elbowed him in the ribs. "Right!" he said, as if waking up from a short nap. "Well, we'll leave you to it." Mum gave a quick nod, then dragged him down the hallway and up to their workroom.
I smiled at Miss Sharpe. I would normally have been suspect at Grandmother's third choice, but Miss Sharpe was so lovely that I immediately wanted her to be my friend. "How do you do, Miss Sharpe?"
"Very well, thank you, Theodosia. I'm sure we'll get along splendidly."
In truth, so was I. For the first time ever, I had high hopes for a governess. She wasn't prune-faced or pinched or disapproving.
Grandmother looked very pleased with herself, and since
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I was in such charity with her for picking such an appealing governess, I didn't even mind when she said, "You said you'd be able to mold and shape her?" That had Miss Sharpe sounding rather like a sculptor.
"Oh yes, madam. We shall have results." And this time when Miss Sharpe smiled, it felt vaguely like a threat and reminded me that a sculptor's tools were much sharper than a whip.
"Miss Sharpe--" I started to say.
"Ah, ah, ah!" She held up her finger. "I don't believe you've been spoken to, have you? And children must not speak unless spoken to. That is Golden Rule Number One."
Grandmother smirked in approval.
What a load of rubbish! I held up my hand, and Miss Sharpe graciously nodded her head. "Yes, Theodosia?"
"How am I to ask questions, then, if I can't speak unless spoken to?"
"You will find a proper lady has little need to ask questions. A proper lady is content with the explanations given and does not question her betters."
"But Socrates said that the best education is based on questioning. Surely you've heard of the Socratic method?"
She placed her hands on either side of her head. "Oh, my ears! How they burn with such impertinent talk." She turned
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to Grandmother. "Madam, I fear you have called me none too soon."
Grandmother gave a satisfied nod. "I thought so." I raised my hand again, but this time both of them ignored me.
"How would you like to proceed?" Grandmother asked.
"I think it would be helpful if Theodosia and I took a little walk around the museum and got acquainted. You mentioned she's spent a lot of time here. I'd like to get a sense of what the unhealthy influences in her life have been so I can root them out." There was that small smile-that-wasn't-really-a-smile again.
"There's nothing unhealthy about our museum," I said hotly. Well, there was. But she didn't know about the curses. And that wasn't what she'd meant, anyway.
Miss Sharpe's eyes narrowed and she reached out and snagged my hand in hers. "Come," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Let us begin our getting acquainted, shall we?"
And with that, she dragged me from the foyer into the hall.
"But Miss Sharpe," I began, then yelped in outrage when she pinched me.
"I don't believe you've been spoken to, Theodosia." Her eyes glittered with challenge.
"But you pinch--ow!" She'd done it again!
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/>
"And I will pinch you every time you fall out of line. I have many tools to help me mold young girls into proper young ladies."
I glared at her as I rubbed my arm. This would never do. And it was an excellent lesson on just how vile the most lovely package could be inside.
"So." She grabbed my hand again. "What would you like to show me first?"
It was all I could do to keep from yanking my hand from hers, but I really didn't want another pinch. I was already feeling black and blue. I shot her a sideways glance, not certain whether her question was a trap.
"You may speak now, Theodosia, as I have asked you a question. Stubbornness is most unattractive."
Ha! I thought. Tell that to Grandmother Throckmorton. My mind worked furiously. I had to think of something to get rid of her. But what? I led her down the hall, only to find myself yanked back by the arm.
"Ladies do not gallop," Miss Sharpe informed me. "They walk at a sedate pace."
"Yes, Miss Sharpe." You wretched cow. "Speaking of Socrates, would you care to see our classics exhibit?"
"Why, yes, Theodosia. That would be delightful."
When we reached the doorway, I stood back so Miss
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Sharpe could poke her head into the room. Her gaze brushed past the life-size statue of Adonis that had so shocked Miss Chittle and scanned the rest of the statues. "Adequate enough," she announced.
I bristled. Talk about condemning with faint praise. "Very well. This way, then."
She was equally unimpressed with our imperial China collection, medieval display, and Assyrian and Sumer exhibits, barely sparing a glance for each of the rooms. When I took her to the ancient Egyptian room, she wrinkled her perfect little nose and said, "My, those bandages need a good washing, don't they?"
It had to be the shortest museum tour on record. Within no time we found ourselves outside the small family sitting room, where Grandmother had said she would wait for us. Pausing in the hallway, Miss Sharpe bent down and brought her face closer to mine. "Your grandmother says you're bright as a button." Before I had a chance to marvel over that, she continued. "But don't worry, I shall soon show you how to hide that light of yours under a bushel. You don't want everyone to know what an odd duck you are."
I gaped at her, unable to think of a reply. She gave me a charming smile, then, with a swish of her silk skirts, disappeared into the sitting room.
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The room was full, as all the curators seemed to have decided to take a late tea right then. When they saw Miss Sharpe, they all got quite silly as Father introduced her around. It would have been highly annoying if I hadn't been so fooled myself when I had first met her.
It took forever for Grandmother and Miss Sharpe to leave. When they did, I insisted on walking them to the door. Both seemed impressed by my manners, which was just as well. If they'd known that the real reason I'd come with them was to keep an eye out for a street urchin in order to get a message to a secret organization, they might not have been so pleased.
As I waved goodbye to them, my eyes searched for a sign of Will, but the street was deserted except for a tall, thin man sitting on a bench, his top hat just barely peeking above the evening newspaper he was reading. Will must have decided I had no news to pass on today and given up.
Miss Sharpe could not have arrived at a worse time. It was clear she would be a formidable opponent.
But then, so was I.
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CHAPTER TWELVE SNUFFLES
***
THE MUMMIES RETURNED AGAIN the next day.
Our first indication was the huge crowd awaiting us at the museum entrance. Inspector Turnbull was there, along with Lord Chudleigh, Snowthorpe, and a number of other people I'd never seen before.
"Good gad!" Father said, leaping out of the carriage. "What is the meaning of this?" He was so distraught, he forgot to help Mother down.
Inspector Turnbull glared at Father. "I might ask you the same thing, sir."
"What are all these people doing at our museum?" Mother asked, alighting from the carriage.
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Snowthorpe took a step closer to Father. "We want our mummies back, Throckmorton. This joke of yours has gone on long enough."
"What joke?" Father said. "What are you talking about?"
But I knew. I could tell from the way people were pressed up against the window, whispering and pointing. I tugged on Father's coat pocket. "I think the mummies are back, Father."
All the blood drained from his face.
Inspector Turnbull glanced at me sharply. "How'd you know that, then?"
"Why else would you all be here?" I asked.
Recovering, Father hurried to the door, but when he tried to open it, a muffled voice called out, "Go away! I ain't letting none of you in without the master here to answer your questions."
"It's me, Flimp," Father called out. "You can open the door now."
Flimp did, slowly, then peeked out at the gathered crowd. "Am I glad to see you, sir!" he said, but poor Father was so beside himself that he didn't hear him. Instead, he stared at the foyer in dismay. Or more accurately, he stared at the queue of mummies lined up against the wall, his whole body sagging.
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"Throckmorton, this is preposterous," Lord Chudleigh said, shoving forward. "What are you trying to prove, anyway! I've half a mind to call for a meeting of the board and demand your resignation!"
"But sir--" Father began to protest.
"And I've half a mind to haul you in," Inspector Turnbull added.
"On what grounds?" Mother asked.
"Exactly!" Father echoed. "All I've done is arrive to find another crowd of mummies in my museum. It's not as if I had anything to do with it!"
"You haven't, have you?" Turnbull growled.
"Now, now, gentlemen. There's no need for any of that." Admiral Sopcoate pushed his way through the crowd. Behind him, Grandmother Throckmorton's carriage was parked up against the street, her thin nose poking out from behind the carriage curtains. For the first time that morning, I felt hopeful. Sopcoate always had a calming effect on people. Perhaps he could prevent Father from being hauled off or fired after all.
Inspector Turnbull nodded in deference to the admiral. "But sir, surely you aren't saying he had nothing to do with this."
Sopcoate put one arm on Turnbull's back and the other on
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Chudleigh's. "What I'm saying is, we don't want to be arguing out here on the stoop where every news reporter and passerby can hear us, now, do we? Think of the scandal," he said to Chudleigh. Then to Turnbull: "Think of how that could compromise your investigation!"
Turnbull scowled at the truth of Sopcoate's words. "Don't let anyone else through that door until I get back," Turnbull instructed his constables.
"Of course not, sir!"
Turnbull nodded, then followed the admiral and the others toward Father's office, where they could have some privacy.
"Oh no you don't, boy-o!" A constable's raised voice caught my attention. "You heard the man. No one gets in here."
"But it's Open Visitation Day, guvnor, me only chance to see the museum!" a paperboy whined as he tried to push past Biggs. "Ye don't want me to have to wait an entire month, do ye?" Even though he was talking to the constable, the paperboy was looking straight at me.
Only, it wasn't a paperboy at all--it was Will!
I tilted my head to indicate he should go round to the side.
"I don't give a horse's hind end how long you have to wait. Now, off wi' you!" As I watched Will scramble away, I caught sight of an elegant woman standing toward the back of the
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crowd. It was Miss Sharpe, and she was attempting to work her way to the front door. She tried to catch my eye, but I ignored her and hurried to the side entrance instead.
By the time I got there, Will was waiting for me. "Wot took you so long?" he huffed, looking over his shoulder.
"I came, right away," I huffed back,
wishing he wouldn't get so put out just because of a few constables around. Although I supposed if I were in his trade, I would feel the same.
I heard a loud, wet sniffing sound. "Quiet," I warned Will.
He immediately froze. "Wot is it?"
"I don't know, but I think someone is skulking in the bushes." I squinted, having a hard time making out what exactly I was seeing.
"Oo is it?" Will asked, his voice tense.
"I'm not sure," I said. "But it looks like a bowler hat with ears. And a much-too-large morning coat."
Will relaxed. "Oh, don't worry 'bout 'im. That's me brother, Snuffles."
"Snuffles?" I echoed.
Will nodded. "On account of 'is nose always runnin' and 'im always snuffling it back up."
Another thick, wet sniff emerged from the bushes. "Right. Snuffles," I said. "But he doesn't have to hide in the bushes, does he?"
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'"E's practicing, miss."
"Practicing what?"
"Why, 'is skills, of course. He's got to practice moving quiet-like and tailing people or he'll never make it in our family line of work." Will leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Frankly, I think 'e's a bit 'opeless. Everyone can hear him sucking up that snot o' his from a mile away."
"We don't have time to discuss this right now. Come on." I grabbed Will's arm. "We need to go somewhere where we won't be overheard."
I thought about the reading room, but with nothing else to do until the inspector gave the curators marching orders, there was too big a chance they'd wander down there to do some work. Besides, Fagenbush seemed to be hanging around there a lot lately, and I most certainly didn't want to run into him.