The Angel of Highgate Read Online Free

Her long, blonde ringlets and peaches and cream complexion stood out in great contrast to the black mourning dress and jet earrings and necklace glittering at her throat. Even from twenty feet away, Thraxton could see that her eyes were a shade of milky blue. The sparkle in those eyes and eager smile showed her delight and fascination in the proceedings.
    Thraxton spoke close to Algernon’s ear. “A handsome woman. Who is she?”
    From his pained expression, it was clear that Algernon felt reluctant to share the information with Thraxton. “Constance Pennethorne. Widow of the late Charles Pennethorne, the banker.”
    “She seems a merry widow. I wonder how long it’s been since she vaulted the old money-lender?”
    The crowd gasped as Sir Hector peeled away another layer of wrappings to reveal a solid gold Ankh lying upon the mummy’s chest.
    “Ah-hah!” exclaimed Sir Hector. “We have discovered an Ankh, a talisman often found within the wrappings of mummies, traditionally placed over the heart.”
    Thraxton stepped from his place in the crowd, sauntered up to the examining table and calmly snatched the golden Ankh from the hand of the surprised Sir Hector, flourishing it aloft for all to see. “The Ankh, symbol of life everlasting,” Thraxton announced to the crowd.
    Sir Hector, mouth agape, looked on, speechless and dumbfounded.
    “But as the poet Mister Keats has taught us, the only thing everlasting is truth and beauty. And so I give this Ankh to the most beautiful lady here.” Thraxton strode over to Constance Pennethorne, dipped a slight bow, and presented the Ankh to her. Clearly surprised, she received the amulet with a delighted smile and a curtsey.
    The crowd broke into spontaneous applause, while Sir Hector broke into spontaneous combustion. As Thraxton stepped away to return to his place, Sir Hector rushed over. “See here, Lord Thraxton,” he sputtered. “I really must protest. That is an historical artifact. It belongs to the museum!”
    Thraxton slapped Sir Hector on the shoulder good-naturedly and whispered in his ear. “There, there! Be a good sport, old fellow. Let’s not forget the great beneficence I have shown the museum. In fact, I believe I’m just about to make my annual gift. Please don’t put me in a parsimonious mood.” He gave Sir Hector’s shoulder a bruising squeeze, “Besides,” he said reassuringly, “plenty more mummies where that one came from.” And with that, Thraxton traipsed away, leaving Sir Hector to wheeze and vent like a small round kettle left on the boil.
    Algernon was watching from the back of the crowd, and a jealous grimace flashed across his face.
    * * *
    A refreshments table had been laid out along one wall of the Mummy Room. Algernon was munching a watercress sandwich when he saw Constance Pennethorne approach the table and eye the punch bowl. This time he decided he would not let the opportunity slip by. He choked down the mouthful of sandwich he was chewing, and tossed the half-eaten remainder behind a nearby sarcophagus from the reign of Akhenaton. As he stepped over and bowed low to her, his tongue worked frantically to pry loose a piece of watercress stuck between his teeth.
    “Mrs. Pennethorne? My name is Algernon… Algernon Hyde-Davies.”
    Constance looked up from the punch bowl straight into Algernon’s eyes. Her gaze was disarmingly intense and seemed to look straight into his brain, almost as if she could see everything he was thinking. Algernon wondered if he had watercress wedged between his teeth and felt his cheeks warming, but Constance smiled and offered her hand.
    “So nice to make your acquaintance, Mister Hyde-Davies. You are a friend of the impetuous Lord Thraxton, are you not?”
    Algernon took her gloved hand and held it gently.
    “I have that, ahem, honor, ma’am. I do hope that my friend’s ostentation caused you no embarrassment. Geoffrey does have rather a flair for the dramatic—”
    With his usual timing, Thraxton