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“It’s a truly horrid moniker, isn’t it? Everyone collects things. Why, Professor Tyndale could be the Collector.Youcould be the Collector.”
“I believe that’s rather the point of it. It’s cryptic while hiding the man’s true identity.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t bother hiding her disdain. “And what do we do when we find the Collector?”
“We,” he said with emphasis, “do not do anything.”
She rolled her eyes at that, and he hid a smile. Then, cocking her head to one side, she asked, “Have you gone to the consul-general about your sister? Sir Rupert Daventry must know Cairo and its criminals as well as anyone.”
Rhys gave a rueful laugh. “I did go to him, as well as the Egyptian authorities and my railway contacts, all of whom have quite a few connections of their own. I even spoke with aneffendiin the governor’s office,” he said, referring to the honorific given to esteemed gentlemen and officials.
“They were unhelpful?”
Rhys shook his head. “Sir Rupert made some inquiries. He even had his own men search Old Cairo, but unfortunately, they turned up nothing. He did invite us to stay at his villa once I have Fiona again—he claims it’s as good as being on English soil and no one will dare threaten her there. But I’m afraid one missing Englishwoman is simply not a priority for a man who negotiates treaties with his breakfast.”
Miss Corbyn’s lips twisted as she considered his words. “Perhaps I might have better success securing Sir Rupert’s attention. I am the granddaughter of an earl, after all.”
He smiled, recalling the first time she’d made such a claim. He’d been holding her close to his chest in the back corridors of the British Museum, and her jasmine scent had been as intoxicating then as it was now. He thought she must be remembering the occasion as well, for her cheeks colored.
“You may try, certainly,” he said. “But in the end, it’s left to me to find my sister.”
“But you don’t have to do it alone.”
Her words were softly spoken, and they sent warmth to fill him for the brief moment he allowed himself to believe them. At his continued silence, she gave him a weak smile and said, “May I—may I see the amulet?”
He hesitated. After safeguarding the scarab for so long, sharing it with another didn’t come easily. But perhaps she might decipher why the blasted thing was so important, andthatwas assistance he’d happily accept.
He retrieved the linen-wrapped bundle from his satchel and passed it to her. She slowly unwrapped the amulet then knelt closer to the light of the fire, turning the pendant first one way then another to study it.
Her lips tilted down in a frown before she said softly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Evelyn. This piece isn’t authentic. It’s a forgery. A finely-crafted one, but a forgery, nonetheless.” Her worry was palpable as she returned the amulet to him.
Rhys stared at her for a long moment, considering. She was good, that much was clear. He slowly pulled his watch from his pocket, explaining, “I had a replica made in London. There was time before my ship sailed, and it seemed like a prudent course….” He moved the hands on his watch forward then back again, listening for the telltale sound of the lock mechanism. Finally, he heard it, and the small hidden compartment opened with a soft click.
Miss Corbyn’s sharp inhale was audible. “How clever,” she murmured.
“I thought so at first, but now I’m not so certain,” he said wryly as he emptied the compartment into his hand. She looked up, brows raised in inquiry, and he added, “I mentioned the bandits near Tanta. I imagine a watch might be one of the first things they would take. Even if they don’t know of the hidden compartment—”
“—its contents are at risk by virtue of being hidden within an article of value.”
“Precisely.”
“I see your point,” she said, but she held any further comments on the matter as he handed her the amulet. She slowly turned the small scarab in her fingers, and he was struck by the intent expression on her face. After some moments of studying the artifact, she said, “You found this in one of the storage rooms of the museum?”
“Yes. Once I learned where the new shipments were stored, it was a simple enough matter to locate the crates from Mr. Osman’s shop.”
“I need more light,” she murmured as she ran a finger over the symbols etched onto the back of the pendant. “Can you bring the lantern, please?”
Rhys obliged her, lighting the lantern and crouching next to her as she continued to examine the amulet.
“It’s from a late dynasty…” She adjusted the angle of the lantern then gasped. “Look here,” she said, holding the scarab so he could see. As she angled the lantern first one way, then another, the light revealed additional barely-there scratches he’d not seen before. “I doubt the casual observer would notice these symbols,” she said softly.
“Can you read them?” he asked, trying and failing to ignore the gentle curve of her neck as she bent her head in study. He swallowed and forced his attention back to the pendant in her hand.
“Most of them. I’d need to study the piece in more detail, but”—her excitement was evident in the increased tempo of her words—“Mr. Evelyn, if I’m not mistaken, this is part of the Pharaoh’s Trinity. Do you understand what that means?”
“The Pharaoh’s Trinity? That sounds…” Dangerous. Cursed. “Intriguing?”
“Mr. Evelyn! It means your sister is safe as long as you have this. It gives you an immeasurable advantage. This Collector person won’t do anything to risk losing this amulet.”
