The Mummy Snatcher of Memphis Read Online Free

down the corridor. “Your arrangements are adequate, Theo,” she was saying. “Adequate at best.”
    â€œThank you, my dear.”
    â€œLess of the thank-yous. Could Do Better, that’s what you need to tell yourself. Anyway, I suggest you call it the Hilda Salter Bequest. The very least you can do. A magnificent collection of Egyptology, even if I say so myself.”
    â€œIt’s very fine indeed,” my father bleated.
    Aunt Hilda had such a vibrant personality, she could force the strongest man into submission. Sadly Father was not the strongest man. For as long as he could recall, Papa had been terrified of his elder sister.
    But the effect on Ahmed of Aunt Hilda’s voice was extraordinary. He stood up, quivering. Then he bolted, crashing painfully into a large case. Without a murmur he got up and set off again.
    â€œQuick, catch him!” Waldo ran after Ahmed.
    By luck Ahmed had blundered into the dark corner of the room which led to my father’s office. We caught him there and opening the door ushered him into Papa’s sanctum, a crowded room, packed with cases, pottery, parchments and fragments of ancient bones. There were plenty of nooks and crannies in here where a skinny boy could remain undetected.
    â€œIt’s all right,” I said. “You’ll be safe here. You can hide.”
    That was one word Ahmed understood. He looked at me with huge, scared eyes. “Hide,” he repeated. “Hide.”

Chapter Four
    Ahmed crouched in the corner, in the dark space between the edge of my father’s desk and a bookshelf. More porters had entered the room next door, judging by all the banging and scraping coming through the wall. My aunt was busy being in charge, my father hard at work following orders.
    The Egyptian boy was over his fit of terror. Still, there was something about his frozen stance that was unnerving. Surely such fear was out of all proportion? Aunt Hilda can be something of a dragon, granted. But she is not a mean-spirited person. Under her bristly exterior, I am convinced, lies a decent heart. The boy reacted to her voice as if she was the devil himself.
    After some time, the banging outside ceased. Aunt Hilda and father had obviously found some new distraction. We heard their footsteps move away. Ahmed flopped and lay in a heap, quite still. We looked at each other and I shrugged. I didn’t know what to do withhim. It was Rachel who went over and knelt down.
    â€œAhmed,” she whispered.
    â€œRachel.”
    â€œEverything will be all right, Ahmed.” The words were mere sounds to Ahmed. It was the soothing tone that comforted him. “Nothing bad will happen to you. Please, you must trust us.”
    â€œBad.”
    â€œNo Ahmed. We are good! No harm will come to you.”
    Ahmed uncurled a little. His eyes flickered to Rachel and then over all of us in turn.
    Some calculation was going on in that tousled head. I could see it clearly in Ahmed’s eyes. His skinny hands delved into the rags on his body and came out clasping a packet sealed in mustard-colored wax paper. The packet was roughly three inches square with a hole at the top. A red cord was threaded through the hole. Ahmed, we now saw, wore the packet dangling from a cord around his neck.
    â€œRachel,” he said. He took a piece of parchment out of the packet and handed it to my friend.
    Rachel took the roll of parchment and turned it over in her hands, almost stroking the rough surface. The wax paper was dusty and dirty, as you would expect, since it had traveled with Ahmed across half the world.Inscribed around it in green ink were three symbols. I knew what they were: hieroglyphics! The mysterious language of the ancient Egyptians.

    I knew what the symbols were called, but alas I could not read them. Right then and there I decided to learn hieroglyphics, so I could decode their secret.
    Sensitivity is one of Rachel’s finest qualities. She saw my