Free The Adventure of the Pharaoh's Curse (The Assassination of Sherlock Holmes Book 1) by Craig Janacek Page B

proving to be very deep and husky.
    “I understand that you are relatively new to the job, are you not? Do you enjoy it?”
    “Indeed, sir. It is quiet and retiring. It allows me time to think. For thought is the key to all treasures, and thus I have soared above this world.”
    Holmes’ eyes kindled and a spring flush sprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant the curtain had lifted upon his intense, passionate nature, but for an instant only. When I glanced again his face had resumed that Pharaonic serenity which had made so many regard him as a machine rather than a man. He turned and again addressed the entire assembly. “To understand how these items are vanishing from the Museum, one must reconsider the sequence of events. From studying your manifests, Mr. Brundage, I see that your mummy, and its grave goods, arrived from Cairo at the end of August. From the messages sent by the Museum’s representative, Mr. Griffith, you had already conceived the notion for the new design of the gallery and had already ordered a set of properly-shaped blocks of Cotswold stones to form your nouveau pyramid.”
    Brundage appeared tense. “Yes, what of it? I’ve never asserted that the pyramid was authentic. It sets the ambiance for the rest of the items, which I do guarantee to be genuine.”
    “So you say, Mr. Brundage, however, if your Pharaoh’s mummy has been in place since early September, why did it wait until the end of the month to begin it’s revenge upon the people of Britain by making their ancient treasures vanish?”
    “I, I cannot say,” he stammered.
    “And why does the Pharaoh take nights off?”
    “What do you mean?” exclaimed Brundage.
    “An inspection of the list of missing items provided by Inspector Lestrade makes it plain that items do not vanish every night. If the supernatural is in effect then I would not expect such laziness.”
    “What are you driving at, Mr. Holmes?” asked Lestrade.
    “I wondered if there was some pattern to the days when no items were taken. And I soon spotted it, for it was deceptively simple. A nine day pattern, neatly coinciding with the dates that a guard might have a night off.” Holmes began to stroll in the direction of the Egyptian Gallery. I followed him with excited interest, for I was becoming convinced that every one of his words and actions were directed towards a definite end. “I postulate to you, gentlemen, that the imitation of these thefts has nothing to do with the arrival of your mummy. Instead everything was predicated upon someone else making an appearance in the museum. It is quite evident from the start that there are two men – more, perhaps, but at least two – who are involved in the plot.” He turned to addressed Sir Williams. “They must have been aided by a confederate inside the Museum. As there were two guards who have only recently come into your service, Mr. Morrison and Mr. Seraphim, they are the obvious suspects.”
    “But, Mr. Holmes,” protested Lestrade, “we’ve already established that the guards cannot possibly remove any objects from the Museum.”
    “I concur, Lestrade. The objects cannot be removed by the guards, nor does it seem possible that anyone is entering and leaving the Museum at night. I spent some time in the other galleries today and can confirm that there is no evidence of external intrusions.”
    “Are you suggesting another secret tunnel, Mr. Holmes?” sneered Sir Williams.
    Holmes paused at the entrance to the gallery. He turned to the man and smiled ruthlessly. “Tell me, Sir Williams, how tenuous is the position of a Director who not only allows his Museum to be plundered, but who proudly displays fraudulent imitations?”
    “How dare you, sir!” exclaimed the Director. “Do you wish for me to file a charge of libel? Every item has been carefully authenticated by one of our specialists. There are no fakes in this museum!”
    “And if there were, would they have any value?” asked Holmes,