“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
Miss Dalton moved on to the next item, circling her hand over a golden-framed looking glass. “Here we have a fine example of an article from the predynastic period, a ceremonial—”
“Yes, yes. We can all see it is a mirror, Miss Dalton.” Gil chuckled. “What Harrison needs to know is the value.”
Edmund’s hands curled into fists, giving his fingers something to do other than throttle the man. He’d given Gil the benefit of the doubt yesterday, what with his travel and then overindulgence of wine, but there was no excuse for his poor behaviour today. A word or two was definitely in order after Harrison left.
Miss Dalton frowned. “The worth of an item goes far beyond a number, Mr. Fletcher. Take, for example, the golden griffin over there.” She pointed across the room to the winged statuette. “If that piece truly bears the famed curse of Amentuk, then its value would—”
“Curse, you say?” Mr. Harrison’s eyes widened. “How very interesting, Miss Dalton. I have an ardent curiosity in all things cryptically metaphysical, so do tell.”
“If you like, though it is but a legend.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Follow me.”
Suddenly energized, Mr. Harrison tagged her heels like a playful pup.
Edmund grabbed hold of Gil’s arm and lowered his voice. “Stop pressuring Mr. Harrison. I’m not ready to sell.”
“That is why you need me, old man.” Gil pulled away. “You cannot let a buyer like this slip through your fingers. The sooner the sale, the better.”
“We don’t even know what’s in the rest of these crates!” he whisper-growled.
“That’s why you name him a figure.” Gil poked a finger into his chest. “Close the deal, then ship him only some of the items. He’ll never know what he’s missed out on, and the rest can be sold to another bidder.”
Edmund stiffened. The idea was exactly the sort of underhanded scheme his father would have devised. “You know very well that I will have nothing to do with such a ruse. It’s unethical.”
“It’s business!”
“Not my kind of business, and I’ll hear no more about it. As planned, Miss Dalton will finish her valuations, and the cargo will be sold by month’s end.”
A vein stood out on Gil’s neck. “No, itmustbe sooner.”
Not that he’d mind getting the funds to Sanjay more quickly, but he wouldn’t stoop to such a dishonorable sale. Interesting, though, that Gil was so insistent. “Why must the deal be made with such haste? What are you not telling me?”
“I—oh dear.” Gil pressed his hand to his bandage and closed his eyes.
Instant guilt punched Edmund in the gut. Clearly the man wasn’t one hundred percent yet, and he was being a bit harsh on him. “Pardon my severity, Gil. If you need a lie-down, why don’t you—”
“No.” His eyes shot open. “I am fine.” He glanced over at Mr. Harrison and Miss Dalton, then swung his gaze back toEdmund. “Look, the smart business move is to encourage Harrison to lay down his money. He’s interested enough, especially about the folklore. Look at him over there. He’s practically nose to nose with that ugly statue, eating up every word Miss Dalton is feeding him. He said himself he believes in that magic, so I say we play up that curse to entice him.”
“But that’s absurd. The griffin isn’t cursed. It’s just Egyptian folklore.”
“Harrison doesn’t need to know that. If a curse is what it takes to sell him, then a curse is what he shall get.”
Edmund shook his head. “Like I said, Gil, stop pressuring the man. I mean it.”
A disgusted sigh belted out of Gil as he turned toward Mr. Harrison, and though Edmund couldn’t be sure, it sounded an awful lot like he grumbled, “You know nothing about making a situation better for yourself.”
Edmund followed, hoping Gil took his admonition to heart.
Mr. Harrison looked up at his approach. “This is quite the find, Price—ifall that Miss Dalton claims about this piece is true. The stories alone are worth a penny or two.”
“Supposed curses aside, that item will not be sold with the rest for I intend to keep it.”
“Hah!” Gil cuffed him on the back. “Such a jester. Likes to drive a hard bargain, you know. Why, Harrison, if a cursed artifact is what you’re after, this little devil is just the thing for you. In fact, though I’d been hesitant to say so earlier, I believe my tumble down the stairs last night was because of the Egyptian spell hovering about that statuette. Something invisible pushed me. Something supernatural. What power that little gem holds! And were that power to be harnessed, why, who knows that it wouldn’t turn into a good luck charm? Agoldenluck charm.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Harrison scratched his jaw. “Now there’s a thought.”
Edmund rolled his eyes.
