The Golden One Read Online Free PDF Page A

(in the
second drawer of the bureau) I had pointed out to him the previous night.
    ‘A summons at such an early hour – ’
    Emerson came charging out of the dressing room, attired in trousers and shirt. ‘Ah, there you are. Good. Just listen to this.’
    ‘Finish your breakfast, Emerson,’ I said, deftly removing the crumpled pages from his clenched fist and handing them to Ramses.
    I will summarize the account, which Ramses, at my request, read aloud.
    A few months earlier, rumours had spread that a hitherto unknown tomb had been discovered by the indefatigable thieves of Luxor. It had contained objects of rare value and distinction: royal
diadems, vessels of stone and precious metal, and jewellery of all kinds. For once, the rumours were correct. Cyrus, who had heard the tales shortly after he arrived on the scene in November, had
gone straight to the shop of our old acquaintance Mohammed Mohassib, who had been dealing in antiquities for thirty years. The canny old scoundrel, looking as pious as only a Luxor dealer can, had
denied any knowledge of the reputed treasure. He always did, though it was well known that he had handled many of the big finds. There was nothing anybody could do about it, since he never kept the
valuables in his own house, but distributed them among his various relations, and when he was in the process of marketing the goods he conducted private negotiations with interested parties who
were not inclined to turn him in because they wanted the artifacts themselves.
    Knowing this habit of dear old Mohassib’s, Cyrus had persisted until Mohassib finally remarked that he had just happened to have acquired an interesting object – not from a tomb
robber, of course! It proved to be a heavy gold bar approximately two inches long, set with five small figures of reclining cats, two of which were missing; the surviving three were of gold and
carnelian. Cyrus knew his antiquities too well to remain long in doubt as to the meaning of what he saw. ‘The gold spacer was part of a woman’s armlet,’ he had written. ‘Had
to be a female’s because of the cats. It had the cartouches of Thutmose III. They’re saying there were three burials in the tomb, folks – queens or princesses related to Thutmose
III.’
    Attempting (in vain, if I knew Cyrus) to conceal his excitement, he had immediately made Mohassib an offer. The old gentleman had regretfully declined. Another party had expressed interest, and
he was obliged to give him the first chance. What else could a man of honour do?
    ‘That’s how it stands,’ Cyrus ended his letter. ‘I’m pretty sure the “other party” is Howard Carter, acting as agent for Carnarvon or some gol-durned
museum. Mohassib is trying to raise the price by playing the bidders off against each other. You better get down here and talk to Mohassib, Emerson; he’s a wily old skunk and you’re the
only one he’s scared of.’
    ‘We are leaving Cairo at once,’ Emerson declared.
    Ramses exchanged glances with his wife. ‘Excuse me, Father, but I don’t see the need for such haste. The tomb has been cleared and Mohassib isn’t going to admit anything, even
to you. It would make better sense to talk with Carter. Isn’t he working for the War Office? He may be in Cairo even now.’
    ‘Hmph,’ said Emerson thoughtfully.
    ‘We cannot leave immediately,’ Nefret said. ‘I must go to the hospital. I’ve been out of touch for months, and there are a number of matters I must settle with Sophia
before I go away again.’
    ‘Hmph,’ said Emerson again. Emerson’s grunts are quite expressive, to those who have learned to differentiate them. This one expressed disagreement and protest. The hospital
Nefret had founded for the fallen women of Cairo was in a particularly vile part of the city; as she had pointed out, the unhappy creatures she wanted to help would not have dared venture into a
respectable neighbourhood.
    ‘It’s all right, Father,’ Ramses