The Honey Mummy (Folley & Mallory Adventure Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

Auberon. Much as he would not complain about a cold room, neither would he cut to the heart of business if Miss Cleo Barclay were involved. He would rather discuss matters of the park and wolves and jackals and not the intelligent archaeologist who had claimed his heart some scant years prior. Virgil, not being quite so polite, could not resist the opportunity to provoke his friend.
    “You would rather have the details of a snowy Paris park run than discuss the fact that Cleo is summoning us to Alexandria?” He looked at the papers again, the topmost being Cleo’s actual telegraphed message, mentioning an auction of Egyptian and other goods. “I’m quite certain that would amuse her to no end, as it does me.” Virgil reached for his coffee, enjoying the way Auberon shifted on the couch, as though he’d gotten a wild animal twisted up in his trousers.
    “Indeed,” Auberon bit out. He cleared his throat and took up his coffee cup. He did not look up from the surface of the liquid, but Virgil could see how that cup shook in his grip. It was a grip Virgil recognized, one that spoke of restraint and countless things unsaid. “She…” He trailed off, at last looking up from the coffee.
    Virgil let the silence spool out between them. He had found that it helped in matters such as these—matters one was distinctly avoiding—to have long stretches of silence during which to contemplate all that one hoped for and feared.
    “It’s quite possible that the auction will require only you and Miss Folley—”
    “Oh, no.” Virgil shook his head and after one long swallow, abandoned the rest of his coffee. “Whereas Miss Folley is indeed my partner in certain endeavors, you remain my partner within Mistral. It is your post, my friend, and if we have been summoned, we shall indeed go. I am certain Miss Barclay will be delighted to see you.”
    But here, no matter how much Virgil enjoyed poking the clearly tender wound, Auberon’s face closed in on itself. Something shuttered itself away, a pain so deep that Virgil regretted what he had said. The man before him had seen Virgil through hell and back, through countless opium dreams and out; he didn’t deserve such cruelty.
    “Auberon, forgive me.”
    Auberon met Virgil’s gaze and nodded. “There is nothing to forgive, after all. I have been, and am, as foolish a creature as you ever were and are.” His mouth twitched in a grin. “There are unresolved matters between she and I, and yes. I would welcome your counsel on them. At some point.”
    Virgil only hoped he would be as wise as Auberon had been in his own counsel. Matters of the heart were just as tricky as matters concerning one’s literal inner beast.
    “At your leisure, of course,” Virgil said.
    He looked back to the file Auberon had brought, reading through Cleo’s missive. It was transcribed in the neat hand that Virgil recognized to be Auberon’s own and he wondered at that, for Auberon did not normally operate the Mistral telegraph. He noted the curiosity, but said nothing of it lest he quickly discourage Auberon on the matter of Miss Barclay entirely.
    “This doesn’t appear entirely out of bounds,” he said as he continued to read the pages before him.
    As was often the case in Egypt of late, goods hauled from tombs by robbers were making their way to illegal markets. There were too many such auctions to keep up with every single one; while Mistral was aware of them by and large, they had made no concerted effort to stem the tide. Virgil suspected a good many of the artifacts residing within Mistral’s archive had been obtained at such auctions, by Howard Irving and his cohorts. While Virgil disliked the practice, he couldn’t say it was entirely unproductive. These items might otherwise be lost, carried across ocean and continent.
    “Cle— Miss Barclay included a partial manifest,” Auberon said, then took a long drink of his coffee. He filled his cup once more and drank it empty, more like a