I THOUGHT LONG AND HARD about which mummy to send. In the end, there was only one choice: Tetley. I simply couldn't bring myself to desecrate one of the genuine mummies by making him wander around London at night. Tetley used to be a part of the Serpents of Chaos, so really, it was rather like releasing him so he could return home.
"Why are we going down to the basement?" Stilton asked.
"I don't want to defile an ancient mummy, so I thought I'd use Chudleigh's fake and it's down here."
"Won't that be defiling an Englishman, then?" Stilton asked, slightly shocked.
"Not really. He used to work with these men. It seems much more fair to have him do it rather than a royal scribe from the Middle Dynasty. Now, come on."
I started down the stairs, surprised at how comforting it was to have another person coming with me. I waited on the bottom step, listening for any sign of movement. There was none.
"I say, what's Weems's coat doing down here?" Stilton asked, breaking the silence. "He's been looking for that. Making a huge stink, too, he is."
"Oh, sorry. I snagged it because I was cold. I mistook it for Father's." I did not want to tell Stilton about the Anubis statue. The more I learned about Trawley and his organization, the less I wanted them to know about me and the magic around here. "Come on. Tetley's over there."
Tetley stood where I had left him, propped against the wall in his desiccated combination suit.
"So, how are you going to get him to move?"
I took a deep breath and tried not to look into Tetley's face. "By removing this." I plucked the Blood of Isis amulet from Tetley's skinny, sunken chest. The air around us gave a shudder, as if an invisible wall of some sort had come down.
"I say, what was that?" Stilton asked in a hushed voice.
"The protection being removed."
Tetley slowly turned his head to the sound of my voice. My mouth went dry.
"It appears to be working," Stilton said.
I said nothing but watched as the mummy formerly known as Tetley straightened away from the wall and took one step forward. My hands crept up to the amulets around my neck. Tetley took another step forward and another. I quickly backed out of the way so I wasn't between him and the staircase. As he passed Stilton and me, his empty gaze lingered on us, a faint look of puzzlement crossing his mummified features. "Go on," I whispered. "The staff is calling you."
Tetley turned toward the stairs and, lifting his legs in a disjointed manner, made his way up. Halfway to the top, he looked back at me. Goose bumps rippled across my arms. I rushed forward to follow Tetley up the steps, realizing he'd need me to open a door for him or we'd risk his punching straight through a window as the jackal had. "Come on," I told Stilton.
"Coming," he said. "I just want to get Weems's coat. Perhaps if he had it back, he wouldn't be so foul tempered."
When we reached the top of the stairs, there was a dicey moment when Tetley really wanted to go through the foyer to the front entrance. I had to prod him rather grimly to redirect him to the west one.
When we reached the side door, I hurried around in front and opened it for him. Without so much as a pause, he stepped over the threshold and into the night.
Beside me, Stilton quivered in excitement. "I'll have a report for you first thing in the morning."
"Excellent! And do be careful, won't you? Don't try to stop Tetley or redirect him."
"I won't. Good night." And with that, Stilton exited the museum to follow Tetley. Three more scorpions detached themselves from the shadows and joined Stilton. I closed the door and hoped this would work. If not, I was out of ideas.
I was so lost in thought, trying to find holes in my plan, that I was halfway past Stilton's office before I realized there was a faint sliver of light shining from beneath the door. Odd. He must have forgotten to turn it off.
I stopped and retraced my steps, then opened the door.
Behind the desk, Clive Fagenbush shot to his feet. He'd been rummaging through the desk drawers! "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Me? What are you doing here?"
"Museum business," he blurted out.
Of course I didn't believe a word of it. "Museum business requires you to go through Stilton's desk?"
Fagenbush looked down his nose at me. "Not that it's any of your concern, but he was working on an assignment that he was supposed to have for me this afternoon. He left before he turned it in, so I hoped to find it here."
I narrowed my eyes. It sounded reasonable enough, but I didn't like to give Fagenbush the benefit of the doubt. I would ask Stilton about it in the morning.
"However," Fagenbush drawled, "it's clear I will be able to find nothing in this mess. It will have to wait until tomorrow."
He came around from behind Stilton's desk. "Coming?" he asked.
"Of course," I said, reaching to turn out the light. I followed him into the hallway, then firmly shut the door. "You might want to go out the front," I suggested innocently.
"And risk getting splattered with pigeon shot by your father? I think not, but good try."
Bother. He'd seen clean through that one, hadn't he?