The Scarlet Queen by Jacqueline Farrell

Author:Jacqueline Farrell [Farrell, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humorous/Romantic Comedy, Historical
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2015-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

There was no sign of a ghost that night, and when we woke up next morning, none of the servants appeared to show any signs of wanting to leave. Either they had been reassured by the watch posted, or they were more sophisticated than the desert-dwellers.

We worked hard that day and the next, digging carefully for any signs of entrances to rooms. The passageway had become a proper tunnel now, and we were uncovering a marvellous pictorial recording of a funeral procession escorting an elaborate coffin into the tomb. There were fantastic images of life in the afterworld, the dog-headed figure of Anubis, Hathor, the mother-goddess in the form of a cow, and finally, Osiris, weighing the hearts of the dead. The workers moved constantly in a stream from the tunnels, clearing the corridors of soil, their woven baskets always full to the brim. But although we kept finding enough to keep us encouraged, there was still tantalisingly little to suggest this was the tomb of a royal.

On the third day after Karima had reported the ghost, Adam caught up with me just as I was about to enter the tunnel. I was surprised to see him in a formal morning coat and waistcoat.

“Hello,” I said. “Is this a new fashion in tunnel digging?”

He smiled wearily. He and several servants had been staging watches every night, taking it in turns to sit the small hours out. I knew Sir George and Mr. Tillyard had been helping, but although nothing was said, I got the distinct impression the bulk of the guard duty had gone to Adam. Neither Sir George nor Mr. Tillyard looked as strained as he did. He pulled irritably at the tie knotted around his high starched collar. Adam hated wearing high collars.

“I’ve got to go back to Luxor for a few days, Kate. I’ve been trying to put this off, but there are a number of matters that can only be resolved if I contact the museum in London.”

“What matters?” I asked, concerned by his pale face. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No.” He smiled again, more easily this time. “I wouldn’t go if it weren’t absolutely necessary, but I must get in touch with the museum, and if I don’t go to the telegraph office myself, I can’t be sure the message will get to them as soon as possible.”

“Do you expect to be long?”

“No more than a day, two at the most.” He grinned. “Will you be able to manage without me?”

“We’ll do our best,” I said dryly. “Actually you can do me a favour if you have the time.”

“Of course.”

“Take my latest report back to Papa for him to read. If you think it’s legible, that is.”

I said this light-heartedly, meaning it as a joke, but Adam scowled.

“Of course I think it’s legible,” he snapped. “Do you have to constantly harp back to every comment I make?”

“I beg your pardon,” I said, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I’m sorry.

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