“We are more dignified when in our cups,” he said in a pompous voice. Then he abruptly switched the topic, probably in an effort to avoid an argument. A pity, I was just starting to enjoy myself. “What brings you to Egypt?”
Though I expected the question, and had an answer prepared, I switched my reply at the last second. “A little sightseeing. I’ve booked a Nile River tour. Until you mentioned it, I’d forgotten the name of the company,” I added with a sly grin.
The man’s face turned purple, and I bit my cheek to keep myself from laughing. He opened his mouth to reply, but broke off when his eyes fell to the golden ring glittering as it caught rays of sunlight streaming inside the dim compartment.
“What an unusual ring,” he said slowly, leaning forward to better examine it.
Papá hadn’t told me anything about where it came from. There hadn’t even been a note with the package. That was the only reason I didn’t cover my ring finger. I was curious if my unfortunate companion could tell me something about it. “Why is it unusual?”
“It looks quite old. At least a century.”
“Is it?,” I asked, hoping he might give me a better clue. I’d thought the ring an antique, but never did I think it was an actual artifact. Papá wouldn’t have actually sent me one . . . would he? He’d never steal something so priceless from a dig site.
Unease settled deep in my belly. I was afraid of the doubt rising like steam in my mind.
What if he had?
“May I take a closer look?”
I hesitated but lifted my hand closer to his face. He bent his head to examine it more closely. His expression turned hungry. Before I could say anything, he slipped the ring off my finger.
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me.”
He ignored my protest, squinting to catch every groove and detail. “Extraordinary,” he murmured under his breath. Then he fell silent, his whole body unmoving. He might have been a painting. Then he tore his gaze away from the ring and lifted his eyes to meet mine. His feverish attention made me uncomfortable.
Alarm whispered into my ear, told me to take my things and go. “Please give it back.”
“Where did you get this?” he demanded. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
The lie was instinctive. “Elvira Montenegro.”
He repeated my name, considering. No doubt searching his memory and tossing it around for any connections. “Do you have relatives here?”
I shook my head. Lying came easily, and thank goodness I’d had a lot of practice. I’d told a frightful many to get out of afternoons filled with sewing and stitching. “Like I said, I’m a widower here to see the great river and the pyramids.”
“But you must have acquired this ring from somewhere,” he pressed.
My heart thumped loudly against my corset. “A trinket stall next to the dock. May I have it back, please?”
“You have found this ring in Alexandria? How . . . curious.” His fingers curled around my father’s gift. “I’ll pay you ten sovereigns for it.”
“The ring isn’t for sale. Give it back.”
“It occurs to me that I haven’t told you what I do,” he said. “I’m an officer for the Antiquities Service.”
I leveled him with my coldest, haughtiest stare. “I want the ring back.”
“This ring would be a marvelous addition to a showcase highlighting Egyptian jewelry. Now, I personally think it’s your social responsibility to relinquish such an item in order that it receives proper care and attention. Others have a right to enjoy its workmanship in a museum.”
I arched a brow. “The museum in Egypt?”
“Naturally.”
“And how often are Egyptians encouraged to visit the museum showcasing their heritage? Not very often, would be my guess.”
“Well, I never—” He broke off, his face deepening to the exact shade of an eggplant. “I’m prepared to pay you twenty sovereigns for it.”
“A minute ago it was ten.”
He quirked a brow. “Are you complaining?”
“No,” I said firmly. “Because it’s not for sale. And I know all about your profession, so I’ll thank you not to explain it to me. You’re no better than a grave robber.”
The man’s cheeks flushed. He dragged in air, straining the buttons of his crisp white shirt. “Somebody already stole this from a tomb.”
I flinched, because apparently that was true. My father had inexplicably taken something and sent it to me. Papá had made it clear to me that every discovery was carefully observed. But what my father had done went well beyond observation. He’d acted against his morals.
He’d acted against mine. Why?
“Look here—” He held up the front of the ring for my inspection. “Do you know what’s stamped on this ring?”
“It’s a cartouche,” I said mutinously. “Surrounding the name of a god or royal person.”
The man opened and closed his mouth. He looked like an inquisitive fish. He recovered quickly and fired another question. “Do you know what the hieroglyphs say?”
Mutely, I shook my head. While I could identify some, I was in no way proficient. The ancient Egyptian alphabet was immense and it’d take decades of study to be fluent.
“See here.” He lifted the ring to examine. “It’s a royal name. It spells Cleopatra.”
The last pharaoh of Egypt.
Goosebumps flared up and down my arms as I recalled the conversation I’d had with Tía Lorena and Elvira. That was the last time I’d heard the name—and it was in connection to my uncle and his work here in Egypt. That ring was a clue to what they’d been doing here. What—or who—they might have found. I was done being polite.
I jumped to my feet. “Give it back!”
The Englishman stood, fists on his hips. “Young lady—”
The cabin door opened and an attendant, a young man wearing a navy uniform, appeared within the frame. “Tickets?”
I angrily rummaged through my silk purse until I found the crumpled note. “Here.”
The attendant stared between us, dark brow puckering. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” I seethed. “This man stole a ring right off my finger.”
The attendant’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
I stabbed a finger in the direction of the Englishman. “This person—I can hardly call him a gentleman—took something from me, and I want it back.”
The Englishman drew himself to his full height, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. We were facing off, battle lines drawn. “My name is Basil Sterling, and I’m an antiquities officer for the Egyptian Museum. I was merely showing the young lady one of our latest acquisitions, and she became overly excited, as you can see.”
“What—” I sputtered. “My father entrusted that ring in my care! Give it back.”
Mr. Sterling’s gaze narrowed and I realized my mistake. Before I could correct it, he pulled down his leather briefcase and produced a document and his ticket and handed both to the attendant. “You’ll find evidence of my position detailed on the sheet.”
The attendant shifted his feet. “This is very good, sir. Everything seems to be in order.”
Fury burned my cheeks. “This is outrageous.”
“As you can see, this lady is about to be hysterical,” Mr. Sterling interjected quickly. “I’d like to change compartments.”