Sphinx Read Online Free PDF

expression.
    â€œI’m very interested in this urn,” she said. “Would it be possible for me to examine it more closely?”
    â€œOf course,” said Abdul, coming out from behind the counter. He picked up the pot and unceremoniously put it into Erica’s trembling hands. “Bring it over to the counter if you’d like.” He switched on an unadorned light bulb.
    Erica gingerly put the urn on the counter and removed her tote from her shoulder. Then she picked up the pot again, slowly turning it in her fingertips to examine the decorations. Besides purely ornamental designs, there were dancers, antelopes, and crude boats. “How much is this?” Erica looked very carefully at the drawings.
    â€œTwo hundred pounds,” said Abdul, lowering his voice as if it were a secret. There was a twinkle in his eye.
    â€œTwo hundred pounds!” echoed Erica while converting currencies in her mind. That was about three hundred dollars. She decided to bargain a little while trying to determine if the pot were a fake. “I can only afford one hundred pounds.”
    â€œOne hundred eighty is my best offer,” said Abdul, as if making a supreme sacrifice.
    â€œI suppose I could go to one hundred twenty,” said Erica, continuing to study the markings.
    â€œOkay, for you . . .” He paused and touched her arm. She did not mind. “You are American?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGood. I like Americans. Much better than Russians. For you I will do something very special. I will take a loss on this piece. I need the money because this shop is very new. So for you, one hundred and sixty pounds.” Abdul reached over and took the pot from Erica and placed it on the table. “A marvelous piece, my best. It is my last offer.”
    Erica looked at Abdul. He had the heavy features of the fellahin. She noticed that under the worn jacket of his Western suit he was wearing a brown galabia.
    Turning the pot over, Erica looked at the spiral drawing on the bottom and let her slightly moist thumb gently rub over the painted design. Some of the burnt-sienna pigment came off. At that moment Erica knew the pot was a fake. It was very cleverly made, but definitely not an antique.
    Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Erica put the pot back on the counter and picked up her tote bag. “Well, thank you very much,” she said, avoiding looking at Abdul.
    â€œI do have others,” said Abdul, opening a tall wooden cabinet against the wall. His Levantine instincts had responded to Erica’s initial enthusiasm, and the same instincts sensed a sudden change. He was confused but did not want to lose a customer without a fight. “Perhaps you might like this one.” He took a similar piece of pottery from the cabinet and placed it on the counter.
    Erica did not want to precipitate a confrontation by telling the seemingly kind old man that he was trying to cheat her. Reluctantly she picked up the second pot. It was more oval than the first and sat on a narrower base. The designs were all left-hand spirals.
    â€œI have many examples of this kind of pottery,” continued Abdul, setting out five other pots.
    While his back was to Erica she licked her forefinger and rubbed it across the design on the second pot. The pigment did not budge.
    â€œHow much is this one?” asked Erica, trying to conceal her excitement. It was conceivable the pot in her hand was six thousand years old.
    â€œThey are all different prices according to the workmanship and the condition,” said Abdul evasively. “Why not look at them all and pick one that you like. Then we can talk about prices.”
    Carefully examining each pot in turn, Erica isolated two probable authentic antiques out of seven. “I like these two,” she said, her confidence returning. For once her Egyptology expertise had a practical value. She wished Richard were there.
    Abdul looked at the two pots, then at