Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy's Curse
he, nor I—nor Leighton—was seriously hurt, in that little incident.”
    “So someone caught you, then, Leigh?” Phillips asked the young woman.
    “Oh yes,” Leighton giggled again. “It was one of Da’s other colleagues…”
    “Professor Gärtner, of Heidelberg University,” Whitesell filled in. “He died some three or four years ago, when the tunnel collapsed on him as he tried to excavate that Viking funerary longboat, some fifty kilometres outside Stockholm.” The mood at the table quieted at the remark.
    “Oh, I remember hearing about that,” Lord Trenthume hummed in recollection. “Weymouth told me of the matter. They’d located it and looked inside, and were trying to shore it up while they uncovered all of it, and it all fell in, instead. What a pity. He was a good man.”
    “And very nice,” Leighton agreed. “Even to a silly little girl such as I was.” She turned back to Holmes. “Do you recall giving me the pretty stone, Sherry?”
    “Oh, you mean the pebble that ended up in my shoe after landing on top of the Professor? I do.”
    “Well, I took it home and washed off the mud, and put it in the music box Mama gave me before she died,” Leighton revealed, sobering. The mood at the table, already serious from the discussion of the dead archaeologist, became positively solemn. “I kept it as a memento for a long time. Then, two years ago, I got it out and had our family jeweller make it into a pretty necklace. See?” She pulled a heretofore-invisible chain around her throat, which brought up the gleaming little blue-green pebble from its hiding place in her décolleté. “I keep it so that, whenever I become melancholy, it helps to remind me of a wonderful day so very close to Mama’s death, when my dear friend Sherry showed me how to dig in the dirt to find ‘old things.’”
    Professor Whitesell looked moved; he harrumphed once or twice, and cleared his throat, but said nothing. Both Beaumont and Nichols-Woodall dropped their gazes to their plates in respect. Holmes nodded, jaw tightening, though whether in stifled emotion or annoyance, Watson could not tell; the detective took a bite of the curried mutton, as did Watson…
    …Who looked up to see a white-faced Phillips glaring at Holmes in utter hatred.
    * * *
    As they finally left the dinner table, Watson turned to Professor Whitesell.
    “I had it to understand from Holmes that you would like for me to function as a physician for the project,” he noted. “And you so introduced me to the others.”
    “Yes, that’s quite correct, Doctor.”
    “Do you have a regular physician under whom I should work?”
    “No. Well, we do, but his wife was expectant and he was unable to come this year,” Whitesell explained. “She experienced significant and potentially grave difficulties with their last child, it seems, and he did not wish to leave her. Hence my delight when I found you were available to come with Holmes.”
    “Aha, I see. Perfectly understandable, then,” Watson agreed, nodding sage concurrence. “He was probably wise to remain close to home in the circumstances; I expect I should do the same, were I in his position. Very well then. If you could have someone show me to the surgery, I will commence setting up. I hope there were no medical problems before my advent. We came on as soon as matters could be arranged.”
    “No, there have not been any medical incidents, not of any import, at any rate,” a diffident Whitesell began, “but there is still a problem…”
    “What, then?”
    “Well, I am loath to say, Doctor, but something seems to have happened to our cargo while en route…”
    Holmes and Watson exchanged knowing glances.
    “A familiar complaint, I find,” Holmes muttered, watching the conversation with perspicacious interest.
    “…And, well, the big hospital tent seems to have been… misplaced,” an abashed Whitesell continued, not having noticed the exchange. “As well as some of the

Similar Books

Only Superhuman

Christopher L. Bennett

The Spy

Clive;Justin Scott Cussler

Betting Hearts

Dee Tenorio

At First Touch

Mattie Dunman

A Fresh Start

Trisha Grace

Compliments

Mari K. Cicero