"Of course, Miss Theo," Stilton said. "I won't breathe a word." Then he winked. Or twitched, I couldn't be sure.
"Henry, come put these weapons away," I said as Stilton disappeared up the stairs.
With a sigh and a sullen shuffle of his feet, Henry slumped back to the corner and replaced the weapons he'd been playing with. While his back was turned, I slipped the tablet un der an old wooden shield on the shelf. While I thought Stilton was mostly trustworthy—at least, more so than the others—I felt it best to hide the tablet, just to be on the safe side.
When Henry continued to dawdle, I gave him a little nudge (more of a push, really). I glanced around for Isis, but she had disappeared again. I worried briefly about locking her down in the catacombs for the night, then realized that since she'd gotten down there on her own, she could get out as well.
We reached the top of the stairs but found the hallway empty. "Maybe they're waiting in the foyer," I suggested. They weren't, so we hurried to the sitting room, hoping to find them there.
"Tell me again why we can't spend the night working here?" Father was saying as he shrugged into his coat. "We have over six weeks' worth of work we need to accomplish in only two."
"But darling," Mother said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. "This is Henry's first night home since Christmas."
"Blast! I forgot again!"
Well, at least I wasn't the only child he forgot about.
"That's because you've been working too hard," Mum said. "It would do you good to have a night off. Now, come along. Let's go find the children."
Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, I stepped into the room, pulling Henry behind me. "Here we are!" I said brightly.
"Like bad pennies, you two are," Father said. Even though his words were gruff, he ruffled Henry's hair in a playful manner. I found myself wishing for a much shorter haircut, like a boy's. It's hideously unfair that boys get to have their hair mussed as a sign of affection whereas girls aren't allowed to get mussed at all. Just as I was beginning to feel sorry for myself, Father put his arm around my shoulders. "Let's go find some dinner, shall we?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
An Unexpected Visitor
WHEN WE RETURNED TO THE MUSEUM the following morning, we found a small gathering of constables loitering in the foyer talking to Flimp, the night watchman.
"Oh no, not this again," Mother muttered.
When Father saw Inspector Turnbull, his face grew bright red. Before Father could charge at him like a raging bull, the inspector stepped forward and greeted us pleasantly. "Morning, Throckmorton. Mrs. Throckmorton. Your night watchman sent for us. He caught someone wandering around uninvited last night. Normally, I'd leave it to the constables, but with the problems you had just a few weeks ago, I thought it best if I checked it out myself."
An intruder! My gaze went immediately to the wall, but there were no mummies lined up there like the last time Inspector Turnbull had come calling.
Father decided to accept Turnbull's pleasant greeting as a peace offering. His color returned to normal and he asked, "Where is he?"
"Right this way, sir." Turnbull led us down the hallway to a utility closet. Two constables stood at attention at either side of the door. My thoughts flew to the Emerald Tablet. Had Stilton broken his word and told Trawley about it? Had the supreme master himself come last night to take it?
"Well, open it up," Turnbull told them.
The constables hurried to open the door, then stood back. I gasped. There, sitting cross-legged on the floor among the mops and pails, was none other than—
"Awi Bubu?" I blurted out.
Six pairs of adult eyes zoomed in on me. "You know this man, miss?" Turnbull asked at the same time as Father said, "How the devil do you know him, Theodosia?"
I glanced from one outraged face to another. "He's a magician. He performs in a show at the Alcazar Theater. I saw a picture of him on a playbill once."
"What were you doing in that part of town, young lady?" Mother asked.
Sometimes she picked the absolutely worst moments to turn into a concerned parent. "Isn't it rather more important to ask what he is doing here?" I countered, trying to divert their attention back to where it belonged.
"Yes," Father said, turning to the old Egyptian in the closet. "What are you doing here?"
Slowly, Awi Bubu rose to his feet. One of the constables reached for his billy club as if he expected the shriveled little man to attack him. Instead, the magician gave a deep, respectful bow. "I am sorry to have intruded. I was merely looking for a place to spend the night."
Turnbull looked sharply at Flimp. "Is that true? Did he have anything on him when you found him?"
"No, sir. But what person in their right mind would spend the night in a museum, of all places?"
It seemed impolite to point out that Flimp himself did just that every night.
"Well," Turnbull barked, "answer the man's question."
Awi—or would it be Mr. Bubu?—bowed again. "I was planning to spend the night in the park—"
"Vagrancy is vagrancy, man. Sleeping in the park isn't allowed either," Turnbull said.
"Even so, as I had no place to spend the night, I was going to try there, but before I reached it, I was set upon by thugs who did not like my foreign appearance. Wishing to escape them before I suffered too much harm, I sought refuge behind the museum. I found one of the doors ajar and slipped in, hoping to evade my pursuers. When they did not follow me, I fear I was lulled into a sense of security and fell asleep."
Turnbull glared at Father. "Can't you keep this museum of yours locked?"
Father turned on Flimp. "Which door was it?"
"The entrance door back by the receiving dock, sir. I suppose it's possible that Dolge or Sweeny left it open." He scratched his head. "But I would have sworn I checked it last night, sir, like I always do."
Of course he had. And I had no doubt that it had been locked. I looked at Awi Bubu, only to find him staring directly at me.
I grew warm and flustered and looked away, not wanting any of the adults to realize Awi Bubu and I knew each other well enough to have had an actual conversation.
"Perhaps they forgot," the Egyptian magician said. "For I would never have entered had the door not already been open." He turned to Mother. "And may I compliment you on your excellent collection? It is one of the finest I have seen since I left Cairo."
"Even so," Turnbull said, "I can take you in on vagrancy charges. Constable!" One of the men stepped forward to grab Awi Bubu, but Mother stopped him.
"Cairo, you said?"
Awi bowed deeply. "Yes, ma'am. I am far from my native land."
"Indeed you are. And have you no place to stay?"
He spread his hands. "I have been evicted from my lodgings, ma'am. While Egyptian magic is much in fashion in London, I am afraid actual Egyptians are not."
Mother's face softened. "And how do you come to know so much about museum collections, Mr. Bubu?"
"I had occasion to work for Gaston Maspero at the Antiquities Service in Cairo."
Mother's face brightened as if someone had just dropped a prettily wrapped gift into her lap. "Really, Mr. Bubu?"
"Oh no, Henrietta!" Father grabbed her arm and walked her a few paces down the hall. I inched after them. "Whatever you are thinking, forget about it," he whispered.
"But Alistair! He's worked for the Antiquities Service in Cairo. Just how often does a professional acquaintance of the director's land on our doorstep? It's a wonderful opportunity. He may have suggestions that would help us present our case to them!" Mother's eyes were bright, her cheeks pink. I risked another glance at the Egyptian; he was staring intently at Mother, his lips moving silently. A ticklish sensation ran up my back. Not quite as strong as when I was in the presence of a curse, but strong enough to let me know that some form of magic was being worked.