The Maharajah's Monkey Read Online Free PDF

I’ve been inside many barges and I can tell you that they are usually cleaner than you would think, with cooking things, clothes, ornaments—all the meager possessions of a bargee—scrupulously tidied away. But this place was something very different. It looked as if it had been owned by a mad magpie. Vessels and possessions were flung hither and thither. Piles of shredded cloth and paper littered everything.
    It looked as though a hurricane had torn through the barge. Or there had been a vicious fight.
    A heap of multi-colored rags in the corner caught my eye. They were as higgledy-piggledy as the rest of the place, though seemingly of finer quality. I moved closer and knelt down to take a good look. Yes, I wasright. Pieces of ripped velvet—rippling midnight blue—and fine lace were among this pile. Not what you would expect to find in a simple barge. I picked idly through the shredded stuff wonderingly … Then most unexpectedly my fingers felt something cold and hard buried deep. I clasped the thing and drew it out. It glistened, even in the gloom of the barge. I walked over to the window and looked at it in the watery light. Made of a dull metal, it was inlaid with bluish chips, which I recognized as lapis lazuli.
    What could it be? A broken bit of jewelry? The handle of an antique teapot? I looked closer at the thing—and gasped. Most definitely, I recognized the engraving on the metal. This was a hieroglyph. An eye of Horus—also called a Wadjet eye … Could it really be? No, I told myself, it was simply too strange. But the more I stared at the curving piece of metal, the more I became sure. Yes, it was, it must be …
    This was part of an ancient ankh, or Egyptian cross, the pharaoh’s symbol of life.
    This adventure was becoming stranger by the minute. What kind of man keeps broken ankhs in a heap of rubbish? For that matter, how could someone forget such a fine thing, a fragment though it was. But then, perhaps it had simply chipped off the ancient cross and thus been overlooked. You see, I already read the clues. The lack ofclothes and luggage in this place confirmed Peg’s story. The Indian had cleared out.
    Carefully I wrapped the ankh piece, if that was what it was, in a rag that I found on the floor and popped it in my pocket. I would show it to the others. But before I hurried back to my friends, I needed to question Peg Leg a little further. I had the feeling that barge woman knew more than she was letting on.
    â€œWhere have you been?” Waldo demanded suspiciously. It was forty-five minutes later and the meeting in the Randolph was just winding to a close. Most of the press and audience had left but my friends were drooping by the door. Waldo and Rachel, in particular, are always complaining how bossy I am but it is interesting how aimless they become without me to take charge.
    â€œNowhere in particular,” I said airily.
    â€œYou’ve been up to something,” grumbled Waldo.
    â€œThe usual.”
    â€œI know that smile. What’s the big secret?”
    â€œHave it your own way!” I paused a moment, just to tease. “Actually, some rather interesting things have been
happening
.”
    â€œI knew it,” Waldo groaned as the others burbledabout it “not being fair.”
    While they were moaning about the injustice of Kit Salter having all the adventures, I drew the slip of lace out of my pocket and unwrapping it, held out the fragment to my friends. In a shaft of light from the Randolph’s chandeliers it gleamed mysteriously.
    â€œWhat now? You’ve become a cracksman?” Waldo said, greedily plucking the fragment out of my palm, while I ignored his jibe. Obviously I do not shin up drainpipes to steal people’s treasures.
    He held the metal up to the light and we all stared, entranced. I marveled that I could have thought, even for a moment, that it was worthless. This was a piece of a rare and