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Chapter 16
Agatha was the first to burst into the study to see James Carter, his head bandaged, sitting by the fire nursing a brandy.
As he set his glass down and rose to greet her, a brown leather bag fell from his lap onto the floor with a thud.
“My dear fellow! Who did this to you?” Agatha asked helping James back into his chair.
“I have my suspicions that it was someone from inside the British Museum,” he said, retrieving the leather bag and clutching it tight to his chest. To Agatha, the bag looked as if it had once been covered in mud, its condition suggested it had been washed and dried in a hurry, leaving a thin residue of dried soil.”
After giving Sarah the rest of the day off to recover from her shock at seeing James Carter, Harriet now joined them in the study. “Sarah told me you arrived only moments after we had left for the court,”
“I’m sorry if I scared your maid, but you see I had no-one to turn to with Phoebe being detained.”
“She’s won’t be away for long Mr Carter,” said Agatha. “And from what we have seen this morning, you can rest assured that by the end of the week Phoebe will be a free woman. Now, Mr Carter tell us what happened!”
James Carter took a sip of his brandy and as its warm, comforting effect glowed inside him, relayed the events as they had occurred.
“After leaving you both, I decided to walk the relatively short distance to Farringdon... the rain that afternoon had cleared the air. So, I grasped the opportunity to take some exercise. Thinking about it, I would say I was followed, but was too pre-occupied with my thoughts to notice.
“Farringdon is where you live, I presume Mr Carter?” asked Agatha.
“I have a small terraced house near the railway track, I’m a bachelor, Mrs Christie, Miss Wells, and a small house is all I can afford on my army pension.”
“You were in the army?” Agatha was surprised to hear.
“Fifteen years with the Royal Engineers. Anyway, when I eventually arrived home and opened my front door, someone jumped me from behind.” James flinched again at the thought, raising a hand to the back of his head.
“And when you came too?” prompted Harriet.
“When I came too, I was still lying in my hallway. I noticed it was light outside, my head throbbed with pain. Blood had pooled on the tiled floor from a deep gash on the back of my head.”
“Had your assailant taken anything from inside your house?” enquired Agatha.
“I could see the house had been ransacked, but I knew nothing had been taken.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Harriet.
“Absolutely positive! You see the person who attacked me was after what is in this leather bag.” James gave it a knowing pat. “I have had this buried in my back garden ever since Thomas sent it to me three months ago prior to his return to England.”
Harriet and Agatha exchanged intrigued glances, eager to find out the contents of a bag, that someone would be prepared to commit murder for.
“In here,” James said, unbuckling the straps. “Is the answer to finding the final piece in the Pharaoh Sneferu necklace jigsaw puzzle. The location of the ‘Fifth Beetle'.” Gently, James inserted his hand and pulled out a large, black artist's sketch book.
Resting it on his lap, Agatha and Harriet gathered around him like two children waiting for their father to read from their favourite book.
There were page after page of exquisite watercolour paintings of pyramids and sailing boats cruising down the Nile to a backdrop of temple ruins.
Then there were pen and ink drawings depicting hieroglyphics in such intricate and complex detail. Each drawing supported by the most beautiful handwritten notes.
“This should be in an art gallery.” said Harriet, unable to take her eyes off the artistry.
“It’s quite something else, my brother was an artist as well as an excavator. And to the untrained eye, that’s what this book appears to be. An illustrated diary but if you know the full-story behind it, it’s more than that.
When my brother found the tomb and the necklace of Sneferu, the story in the paper reported that Thomas found one of Sneferu canopic jars. Instead of the jar housing one of Sneferu’s mummified organs, it held a scroll telling him about the missing ‘Fifth Beetle’ and nothing more.”
“That’s correct, you already mentioned that.” Harriet and Agatha replied.
“Well again that is not entirely true. Someone in the British Museum, who Thomas worked for, paid a fee to the papers asking them to edit their story preventing private collectors from finding the secret location.
You see there was a clue in that jar and that clue led to another and so on. Thomas collected all the clues and wrote them as cryptic messages. Later, Thomas would use his drawings and their written descriptions as a map to remind him of the direction and location to the Fifth Beetle.”
“So how come you ended up with it?” asked Agatha.
“Pure and simple, Thomas smelt a rat! He had witnessed artefacts being shipped secretly away in the night while working in Egypt. When he went to check the log books the next morning, there were no records of them written anywhere.
Someone in the British Museum was shipping out antiquities illegally to be sold on the black market. Thomas didn’t want his diary falling into the wrong hands. In a letter accompanying his diary, he wrote; ‘He would rather come home leaving the Fifth Beetle undiscovered for now, than let it fall into unscrupulous hands.
Thomas knew Phoebe was no good with money, so sending the notebook back to her would have been a bad idea. She would have no doubt sold it on the black market herself to the highest bidder.”
“But the necklace made it safely back to Britain?” asked Agatha.
“Yes, it’s now in the Tower of London, next to the Crown Jewels.”
“How do you know that for sure?” Harriet enquired.
“Because I took it there!”
“YOU!” said the two women.
“My battalion and I, the Royal Engineers. It was quite fitting that I, who helped my brother excavate the necklace, should be the one who escorted it out of Egypt.
The British Museum wanted to make a display of it, but with it being disclosed in the papers as over £17,000. The Prime Minister, Sir Robert Salisbury, ordered it to be kept under the watchful eye of the Yeoman.”
“And what of the notebook, where is that to go? In the Tower too?” enquired Harriet.
“Someday Miss Wells, someone will use this book to find the Fifth Beetle. And that person, may also be killed. You see, it’s cursed to whoever finds it.”
“So, what are we to do?” asked Harriet.
“Set a trap. We’ll use the diary as bait to flush out who in the British Museum wanted this jewel so badly, that they killed my brother for it.”
“Is it possible, to use the notebook as a trap?” Harriet asked, looking at Agatha.
With her hands crossed, she looked first at James then back to Harriet. “I think with a cunning plan, we might just pull it off!"
© Alice White
As he set his glass down and rose to greet her, a brown leather bag fell from his lap onto the floor with a thud.
“My dear fellow! Who did this to you?” Agatha asked helping James back into his chair.
“I have my suspicions that it was someone from inside the British Museum,” he said, retrieving the leather bag and clutching it tight to his chest. To Agatha, the bag looked as if it had once been covered in mud, its condition suggested it had been washed and dried in a hurry, leaving a thin residue of dried soil.”
After giving Sarah the rest of the day off to recover from her shock at seeing James Carter, Harriet now joined them in the study. “Sarah told me you arrived only moments after we had left for the court,”
“I’m sorry if I scared your maid, but you see I had no-one to turn to with Phoebe being detained.”
“She’s won’t be away for long Mr Carter,” said Agatha. “And from what we have seen this morning, you can rest assured that by the end of the week Phoebe will be a free woman. Now, Mr Carter tell us what happened!”
James Carter took a sip of his brandy and as its warm, comforting effect glowed inside him, relayed the events as they had occurred.
“After leaving you both, I decided to walk the relatively short distance to Farringdon... the rain that afternoon had cleared the air. So, I grasped the opportunity to take some exercise. Thinking about it, I would say I was followed, but was too pre-occupied with my thoughts to notice.
“Farringdon is where you live, I presume Mr Carter?” asked Agatha.
“I have a small terraced house near the railway track, I’m a bachelor, Mrs Christie, Miss Wells, and a small house is all I can afford on my army pension.”
“You were in the army?” Agatha was surprised to hear.
“Fifteen years with the Royal Engineers. Anyway, when I eventually arrived home and opened my front door, someone jumped me from behind.” James flinched again at the thought, raising a hand to the back of his head.
“And when you came too?” prompted Harriet.
“When I came too, I was still lying in my hallway. I noticed it was light outside, my head throbbed with pain. Blood had pooled on the tiled floor from a deep gash on the back of my head.”
“Had your assailant taken anything from inside your house?” enquired Agatha.
“I could see the house had been ransacked, but I knew nothing had been taken.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Harriet.
“Absolutely positive! You see the person who attacked me was after what is in this leather bag.” James gave it a knowing pat. “I have had this buried in my back garden ever since Thomas sent it to me three months ago prior to his return to England.”
Harriet and Agatha exchanged intrigued glances, eager to find out the contents of a bag, that someone would be prepared to commit murder for.
“In here,” James said, unbuckling the straps. “Is the answer to finding the final piece in the Pharaoh Sneferu necklace jigsaw puzzle. The location of the ‘Fifth Beetle'.” Gently, James inserted his hand and pulled out a large, black artist's sketch book.
Resting it on his lap, Agatha and Harriet gathered around him like two children waiting for their father to read from their favourite book.
There were page after page of exquisite watercolour paintings of pyramids and sailing boats cruising down the Nile to a backdrop of temple ruins.
Then there were pen and ink drawings depicting hieroglyphics in such intricate and complex detail. Each drawing supported by the most beautiful handwritten notes.
“This should be in an art gallery.” said Harriet, unable to take her eyes off the artistry.
“It’s quite something else, my brother was an artist as well as an excavator. And to the untrained eye, that’s what this book appears to be. An illustrated diary but if you know the full-story behind it, it’s more than that.
When my brother found the tomb and the necklace of Sneferu, the story in the paper reported that Thomas found one of Sneferu canopic jars. Instead of the jar housing one of Sneferu’s mummified organs, it held a scroll telling him about the missing ‘Fifth Beetle’ and nothing more.”
“That’s correct, you already mentioned that.” Harriet and Agatha replied.
“Well again that is not entirely true. Someone in the British Museum, who Thomas worked for, paid a fee to the papers asking them to edit their story preventing private collectors from finding the secret location.
You see there was a clue in that jar and that clue led to another and so on. Thomas collected all the clues and wrote them as cryptic messages. Later, Thomas would use his drawings and their written descriptions as a map to remind him of the direction and location to the Fifth Beetle.”
“So how come you ended up with it?” asked Agatha.
“Pure and simple, Thomas smelt a rat! He had witnessed artefacts being shipped secretly away in the night while working in Egypt. When he went to check the log books the next morning, there were no records of them written anywhere.
Someone in the British Museum was shipping out antiquities illegally to be sold on the black market. Thomas didn’t want his diary falling into the wrong hands. In a letter accompanying his diary, he wrote; ‘He would rather come home leaving the Fifth Beetle undiscovered for now, than let it fall into unscrupulous hands.
Thomas knew Phoebe was no good with money, so sending the notebook back to her would have been a bad idea. She would have no doubt sold it on the black market herself to the highest bidder.”
“But the necklace made it safely back to Britain?” asked Agatha.
“Yes, it’s now in the Tower of London, next to the Crown Jewels.”
“How do you know that for sure?” Harriet enquired.
“Because I took it there!”
“YOU!” said the two women.
“My battalion and I, the Royal Engineers. It was quite fitting that I, who helped my brother excavate the necklace, should be the one who escorted it out of Egypt.
The British Museum wanted to make a display of it, but with it being disclosed in the papers as over £17,000. The Prime Minister, Sir Robert Salisbury, ordered it to be kept under the watchful eye of the Yeoman.”
“And what of the notebook, where is that to go? In the Tower too?” enquired Harriet.
“Someday Miss Wells, someone will use this book to find the Fifth Beetle. And that person, may also be killed. You see, it’s cursed to whoever finds it.”
“So, what are we to do?” asked Harriet.
“Set a trap. We’ll use the diary as bait to flush out who in the British Museum wanted this jewel so badly, that they killed my brother for it.”
“Is it possible, to use the notebook as a trap?” Harriet asked, looking at Agatha.
With her hands crossed, she looked first at James then back to Harriet. “I think with a cunning plan, we might just pull it off!"
© Alice White
