Page 73 of Disturbing the Dead
Egypt is not yet part of the British Empire, although I think it will be in a decade or so. Right now, it’s under the Ottomans, in a relationship known as a suzerainty, similar to Puerto Rico’s relationship with the United States. The British are moving in, though, and they’re taking whatever artifacts they can.
I want to press more, to ask whether Selim has ever protested the removal of the artifacts from Egypt. I can’t ask, of course, because she’s a ten-year-old girl who would be offering evidence against an uncle she obviously adores, and she would be telling me in hopes of helping him, not condemning him.
Phoebe is too young to realize what she’s doing, so I need to back off and only note that we cannot, unfortunately, dismiss Selim as quickly as we hoped.
We’re walking in a garden. Not the one at the Christie house, but one of the not-public gardens near Gray’s town house. These gardens have been private since they were created about fifty years ago for the exclusive use of neighboring homeowners. Gray has a key, and he lets us in and then shuts the gate behind him.
There’s no one else in the garden, with the flowers put to bed and no winter decorations to entice anyone. Without snow, it’s closed flower beds and bare trees and bushes of dead leaves, nothing like the Christie yard, where even in November, the gardens felt like a pleasant place to spend some quiet time. At least we get the quiet part.
“I believe I may know who took the artifacts.”
I’m not the one saying that sentence. McCreadie is. I tense, ready for him to say Lady Christie fears her brother is involved. Instead, he says, “It seems there was a dispute regarding the artifacts between Sir Alastair and Lord Muir.”
“Dispute?” I say.
“As Lord Muir told you, he is entitled to a portion of the findings. But that is done under very strict restrictions imposed by Sir Alastair, to protect the historical and scientific value of his finds. While Lord Muir takes half the finds, Sir Alastair is allowed to remove up to twenty percent before Lord Muir makes his choices.”
“Twenty percent that Sir Alastair deemed notable.”
“Yes.”
I move aside an untrimmed branch. “Twenty percent that Sir Alastair promises he will donate.”
“He does donate them. Lady Christie was clear on that and says Lord Muir will not attempt to claim otherwise. Sir Alastair donated the artifacts he said were of significant historical value.”
“But I’m presuming that’s still where the dispute arose. Sir Alastair was removing artifacts Lord Muir wanted.”
“Yes. They had come to this agreement at the start of their working relationship, and Sir Alastair was choosing twenty percent to donate, as they agreed. But Lord Muir had come to realize that ‘valuable’ in a historical context could also mean ‘valuable’ in a monetary one.”
I remember Muir’s words, breezily acknowledging that the most valuable of artifacts might not be the most historically valuable. Except they can be, to a discerning buyer.
I’m turning a corner when my heel catches on a loose cobblestone. Gray’s hand shoots out to steady me before I can do more than wobble. I glance over with a grateful smile. He’s been silent so far, listening and assimilating.
I say, “Is Muir keeping his share of the artifacts or selling them?”
“An earl does not dirty his hands by selling anything, my dear Mallory. He has people for that. But, yes, while Lord Muir chooses a few for his own collection, most are sold.”
“And he’s come to realize that savvy collectors don’t just want a pretty jeweled scarab. They also want artifacts they can brag about, like saying they have a rare scroll taken from the tomb of a pharaoh.”
“Precisely. Lord Muir wanted to renegotiate their arrangement so that he could take half of his allotment off the top. Lady Christie believes her husband was conducting a negotiation of his own. Mollifying Muir in other ways.”
“Like speaking out against the female medical students. Throwing them under the bus to preserve his artifacts.”
McCreadie nods. “Likely so. Lord Muir apparently accepted such conciliatory efforts as his due and the matter seemed closed.”
“Hmm.” I realize we’re heading for the exit and take the next turn to loop us through the garden again. “Were any of the previously missing items among the disputed artifacts?”
McCreadie smiles. “You were a detective for a reason, I see.”
“No, I know you’re a very good detective, which means you wouldn’t consider Muir a feasible suspect for the thefts unless you had more evidence, such as the missing artifacts being ones he wanted.”
“Of the four items taken the last time, two were ones they had argued over.”
“Because only taking the ones he wanted would be too obvious. Now you think Muir hadn’t dropped the matter. He used the chaos after Sir Alastair’s murder to make off with more artifacts, which is easy because he’d have been in and out of the house. When Lady Christie messages him about the theft, he races over and takes charge, summoning us, pointing the finger at Selim, and even making a point of suggesting the missing artifacts weren’t the most valuable.”
We continue down a row of hedges.
McCreadie looks over. “You lay out a solid argument, but I have the feeling you are merely repeating what you believe my argument to be… and that you disagree.”
