I narrowed my eyes. Why was Stilton pumping me for information? "Not so odd," I said. "It turns out he used to work for the Antiquities Service in Cairo. Mum invited him back to visit tomorrow. I was merely curious as to his duties there."
Stilton leaned forward, practically quivering in anticipation. "And that's all you talked about?"
"Why, yes, Stilton. What else would we talk about?"
"N-nothing. I was just curious."
Tired of his crypticness, I rubbed my eyes and changed the subject. "Stilton, you seem to know quite a lot about this Emerald Tablet. How do you think people are aware of it if it's been hidden inside a false stele all these years?"
"It was housed in the Alexandria Library for some time and was one of the most copied documents of its day."
"But how was it deciphered? I didn't recognize the glyphs on it, did you?"
"Ah!" Stilton's face lit up. "That's because they're Chaldean cuneiform, miss, not Egyptian."
"Chaldean?"
"From Chaldea, what the Greeks called Babylonia. More specifically, from the eleventh dynasty of Babylonia, during the sixth century B.C."
"But if the tablet was fashioned by Thoth, or even Hermes Trismegistus, why would they use Chaldean script rather than Egyptian?"
"That's an excellent question, Miss Theo. Our current translations of the tablet were all taken from medieval Latin or Arabic copies of the original."
"Does anyone even know how to read Chaldean?" I asked.
"A handful of scholars," Stilton said. "But they only managed to decipher the cuneiform a few decades ago, so no one who is actually able to read the cuneiform has ever seen the original inscription on the tablet."
"Which would make it quite valuable from a scholarly standpoint," I said thoughtfully.
"There are many who feel the reason the formula never worked was that there was an incorrect translation. Who knows what a true, accurate translation would produce?" His eyes gleamed, as if he were imagining piles of gold.
"Stilton," I began, then stopped when Henry called out, "Theo!"
Stilton bade me a quick goodbye as Henry appeared. Honestly. There were as many comings and goings here as there were at Charing Cross Station! When Stilton was gone, Henry began hopping about as if he were going to burst.
"What? What is it, Henry?"
"You're right, Theo! Fagenbush is definitely up to something."
"Really?" What luck to have finally caught him at it. "What exactly did you observe?"
"Well, he was restless and nervous. Kept jumping out of his chair then standing and pacing for a while."
"Oh." My excitement left me. Those actions were more in keeping with sand in the knickers rather than with traitorous activity. However, I told Henry he'd done a good job so as not to discourage him early on. I glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. "Goodness! It's nearly time to meet Will."
"We're meeting Will?" Henry perked up considerably at this announcement.
"Yes, we arranged to meet in the park today." Of course, we'd arranged that before Wigmere's rebuke. Even so, I couldn't leave him hanging. I needed to explain what had happened.
Henry hurried over to the area where he'd been waiting for me to finish up my research and began hunting around on the floor.
"What are you doing? We need to go."
"I want to take my marbles to the park with me, but they're not here. Where'd you put them?"
"Me? I didn't put them anywhere. I never touched them."
"But I left them here," he insisted.
"Maybe you just thought you did." Then, before he could continue to argue, I said, "I'm leaving right this minute. Are you coming or not?"
He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets, and kicked at the floor. "I'm coming."
CHAPTER TEN
A Walk in the Park
LUCKILY FOR US, it was one of those rare spring days when the weather was lovely. We could even see the sky for a change, which was a rarity. As we walked to the park, I tried to assemble my thoughts so I could send a coherent message to Wigmere. It was difficult, however, because Henry kept skipping along and asking questions such as "Do you think Will is going to remember me?" (Of course, Henry), "Do you think he'd teach me how to pick pockets?" (I sincerely hope not, Henry), and so on, so by the time we reached the park, I still had no idea of the actual message I would send.
Because of the nice weather, there was a small crowd and quite a lot of boys running around. Excellent. That should keep Henry entertained.
I searched the crowd, not sure what—if any—disguise Will would be wearing. There was one chimney sweep, but he was too small and too young. Besides, his hair was bright red. Just then, an older boy headed our way. I immediately recognized Will's bright blue eyes under the brim of his slightly grimy cap.
"'Ello, miss!"
"Will! You made it. Did you have any trouble getting here?"
"Nah, simple it was."
"Good. You remember my brother, Henry?"
"Course I do! 'Ow could I forget them whirligigs 'e came up with last time?"
Henry positively beamed. Will could not have said anything that would have pleased him more. Glancing around, I couldn't help but notice that all the other children had stopped their playing and were watching us. I lowered my voice. "We seem to have a bit of an audience," I said.
Will gave me a queer look. "Them's no audience, miss. Them's me brothers."
"All"—I made a quick count—"six of them?"
"Aye. You know Snuffles and Ratsy already." Indeed I did know Snuffles, but I'd never seen him without his enormous bowler hat on. And Ratsy I'd seen only in the dim light of the Alcazar Theater or covered in coal dust on board the Dreadnought.
"Ratsy's easy to remember because 'e kind of looks like a rat, don't 'e, miss?"
I had to admit, Ratsy's face was small and pinched and he had a rather long nose. However, even though Will had said it first, I thought it impolite to agree, so I simply pointed to the small chimney sweep who was trying to climb a tree. "Who's that?"
"Oh, that's Sparky, miss. There's no work for 'im today, so 'e's wif us."
"Is that why he's named Sparky? Because he works with chimneys?"
"Oh no, miss. 'E's named Sparky because 'e's right fond o' fire. Can light one using just about anything too."
"Fascinating," I said.
"Then that little blighter over there by the big bush is Pincher."
"Does he pinch then?" I asked, feeling somewhat leery after my experience with Miss Sharpe, one of my former governesses.
"Only wallets, miss. 'E's nearly as good as I am," Will said with a great deal of pride.
"What is he doing to that shrub?" I asked.
Will turned to have a look. "Oh, 'e's practicing. Seeing if 'e can pinch a leaf off wifout 'aving the other branches quiver. It's 'arder than it looks."
"So I would think," I said faintly.
"Then the two young'uns are Soggers and the Gob. Me mam isn't feeling well today so she gave 'em to me to take care of."
"Soggers? The Gob?" Honestly. Didn't anyone in his family have a real name?
Will leaned forward and in a stage whisper said, "Soggers still wets 'imself at night, miss, and the Gob, well, there 'e goes, see?" The toddler had picked up what looked to be an old cigar stub and was bringing it toward his mouth. "No, Gob! Put it down," Will shouted, then grabbed the stub from the toddler, who promptly began to cry. Will stuffed the cigar stub into his pocket—"There's a few good puffs left on this one," he explained—then picked up the wailing child and began jiggling the unhappy Gob on his hip. "So, miss, you got a message fer me to get to Wigmere?" His eyes shone with anticipation.
"I'm afraid there's been a change of plans. Wigmere's reminded me that I'm not to use you for messages anymore."