The Clockwork Scarab Read Online Free PDF Page A

intruder.
    She swallowed audibly. “Yes, I believe that’s one of the Ho—”
    Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a loud, strange sound. It was perhaps a sort of music, but it was like nothing I’d ever heard before. I spun on my haunches and saw a small silver object sliding across the floor. A colorful light shone from its flat top and the sound—loud, screeching, vibrating—seemed to be coming from it. Miss Stoker jumped out of the way just as one of the large stone statues at the edge of the gallery teetered and began to fall.
    “Look out!” I shouted as the bristly-haired stone satyr crashed to the floor.
    “Stop there!” ordered a commanding voice as two men and Miss Adler came rushing around the corner from the Roman Gallery.
    “He’s gone!” hissed Miss Stoker, who still held Miss Adler’s gun and was now next to me. She was pointing to where the young man had been moments ago.
    Ignoring the shouts from the new arrivals, we dashed over to where the intruder had been standing. Having either taken advantage of or manufactured the distraction, he had slipped into the dark shadows.
    “I’ll go after him,” said Miss Stoker, starting off, but a voice ordered, “You! Miss! Stop there!”
    “Drat,” I muttered, snatching up the silver object that had presumably belonged to the intruder. Clever to use it as a distraction for us, and convenient that he’d left it behind.
    The smooth, flat device had gone silent and dark by now. I shoved it in my trouser pocket to examine later, hoping it wouldn’t start screeching again. I turned at last to greet Miss Adler and the two gentlemen: Scotland Yard inspectors. They were out of breath from running along the gallery.
    “Ladies, this is Inspector Luckworth.” Miss Adler gestured to the older of the two men.
    About forty, Luckworth was a man of average height and a spare amount of hair, except for the neat beard and mustache that hid his lips. I gave him a brief examination.
    Misbuttoned jacket, shirt half untucked, mismatched boots— dressed hurriedly in dark, likely to keep from waking wife .
    Tarnished wedding ring, tight but removable— married at least three years; enjoying wife’s home cooking .
    Small fingerprints just above the knee and a swipe of dried milk on the front of his trousers— toddler in the household .
    The faint shift of gears and quiet rumble— mechanized left leg, overdue for oiling .
    “Miss Adler.” Luckworth’s voice was less friendly than hers had been. “Who are these girls? And what are they doing here at this time of night? What are you doing here at this hour? And how did that happen?” He gestured to the rubble that had once been the stone satyr.
    Miss Stoker and I exchanged glances at his remark, which made it sound as if we were schoolchildren.
    “I’ve been engaged by the museum to catalog its unorganized antiquities acquired over the last three decades, Inspector,” Miss Adler replied. “I’m certain you are aware of that.”
    “Yes, and I still find it inconceivable that the director selected you to do so.”
    “Unfortunately, that opinion is not relevant to our current tragedy,” Miss Adler pointed out with a cool smile.
    The younger inspector, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than I, rose from his examination of the girl’s body. “Right. Regardless, madam, that doesn’t explain your presence here at”—he paused to flip open an elaborate pocket watch that had four small folding doors and, once open, rose into a complicated three-dimensional timepiece arrayed with buttons—“twelve forty-three in the morning.” He pushed a button and the clock folded back into place with soft, pleasant clicks.
    Miss Adler’s smile turned gentle. “But of course it does. There is no limitation on my work schedule. Sir Franks has given me access to the museum at any and all hours of the day. You of all people, Inspector   .   .   .   ?”
    “Grayling,” the young man replied.