Part Three

Upstate New York

1962

Thomas, Ruth and Win all waved as the car pulled out into the street. Nell waved back until they passed out of sight, but James only took his hand off the wheel for a brief moment. He was glad he had come, but he was much gladder to be leaving.

“What are you worrying about, now?” Nell asked after they’d driven a mile or two down the road, when he still had not said a single word.

James sighed. “I’m not so much worrying, as remembering. I don’t see how I can make that boy understand; not when I didn’t understand half of it myself until years later.”

“I don’t think it’s your job to make him do anything,” she chided. “Just tell him the truth when he asks questions. That’s the best you can do.”

“Is it?” He shook his head. “I think, perhaps, I should write him a letter. Maybe he’ll see things from a more balanced point of view if I set it down in the order it happened.”

She smiled. “That sounds rather difficult. Can you even remember the order of events from so long ago?”

“Some of them.” Again, he sighed. “Some of them, I doubt I’ll ever forget.”

He lapsed into another silence, as the memories overtook him once more.

New York

1925

“It’s about time you got here,” Thomas scolded, as James arrived at their shop one morning. “I’ve been working all night and you just wander in–”

“–at exactly the time I said I’d be here,” James finished for him. “Go and get some sleep. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Two separate shipments had arrived the day before, and the brothers had decided to divide the work in order to get goods on their shelves as quickly as possible. Business was looking up, but they could not afford to slack.

“No. I need to show you these things, first.” Tom gestured at one set of shelves. “The Luxor stuff is all very good quality. I want you to give Rosenfeldt a call and let him know it’s here; I think there might be some pieces he’d like. I’ve written you a list.”

James nodded. The man named was one of their best customers and someone with very particular tastes. Tom was good at picking what interested people and it paid to listen to him when he made these suggestions.

“The Giza shipment is a mixed bag.” Thomas shook his head. “Edward is just like you. He’s got no discernment at all. But when he gets it right, he’s dynamite.”

James glanced back at the statue of Anubis, which still took pride of place at the back of the shop. “What has he sent this time?” he asked.

Tom waved at a different shelf. “These things are pretty good. There’s one piece here that I’ve put a price by negotiation sign on. Whatever you do, don’t settle a price on it without me. That one’s a real museum piece and I think we can get a fortune for it, if we play our cards right.” He waved to the cheap shelf up the front. “The other stuff I’ve dumped over there. You can do some rearranging, if you like. I haven’t had time to bother.”

Again, James nodded. The cheap shelf was primarily his domain. It catered for the customer who wanted something Egyptian, but couldn’t afford the prices on the better stock.

“And if a gentleman called Mr. Jones calls, come and get me at once,” Tom added, even as he headed for the hidey-hole in their back room. “I don’t think he will, but it’s important.”

“Fine, fine.”

James waved him away and set to work arranging the cheap shelf.

The bell on the door tinkled mid-afternoon, causing James to look up from the records he was examining. He thrust the ledger under the counter and plastered on a welcoming smile.

“Is Mr. Thomas Frayne available?” the newcomer enquired. “I am Mr. Jones.”

“If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll get him,” James offered.

He stepped into the back room and used the broom to poke his still-sleeping brother.

“Tom! Get up! Your visitor’s here,” he urged in a low voice.

Up on the high shelf, Tom groaned, but threw back the blanket. He stretched and prepared to climb down. James left him to the task and returned to the showroom. The visitor now stood right at the back, staring at the Anubis statue.

“He will be with you in just a moment,” James promised.

The man nodded acknowledgement and James moved back to allow him some space. Mr. Jones moved on to look at some other items. As he did so, James scrutinised him, while trying to look like he wasn’t. Unless he was greatly mistaken, this man was probably not really called Jones, or anything like it.

Before he’d had time to come to any further conclusions, Tom emerged.

“Mr. Jones?” he greeted. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Thomas Frayne. This is my brother and business partner, James.”

The man shook hands with both of them.

“Why don’t you take a walk?” Tom suggested to his brother. “Or perhaps you have some paperwork to do?”

James crossed to the counter and retrieved his ledger. “Yes, in fact, I do.” He waved to the door. “I’ll be through here, if you need me. It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Jones.”

The stranger nodded and James stepped through the door, closing it behind himself. The thin partition blocked little to no sound, but Mr. Jones probably wouldn’t realise it. James set the ledger on a shelf and applied his ear to the wall in a spot where there was a small hole, concealed on the other side by a large and particularly ugly piece of pottery.

“Where is it?” the stranger demanded, in a low voice. “And where is my payment?”

Footsteps sounded, then a rustling noise.

“I think you’ll find everything in order,” Tom answered.

A silence followed.

“If I find out that you’ve set foot in Luxor…”

“No, no!” Tom’s voice sounded nervous. “I doubt I’ll ever go near Luxor again in my life. I didn’t like the place, at all.”

“If I hear differently…”

“You won’t. You have my word.”

The other man laughed. “As if that’s worth anything.”

“It is worth something, Mr. Jones,” Thomas answered, with dignity. “Please believe me when I say that wild horses couldn’t drag me back to Luxor. You could say that I had a very bad experience there.”

“You’ll have a worse one if you go back on this word of yours.” A pause. “I’ll see myself out. Good day.”

“Good day, Mr. Jones.”

James waited impatiently for Tom to come and get him. After what felt like ten minutes, but was probably nearer to two, the door opened.

“I suppose you heard all of that,” Tom muttered, not meeting his brother’s eyes.

“Yes! What the devil was it all about?” James stamped back out into the showroom, scowling. “Who was he, really? And what happened in Luxor that time, that you didn’t tell me?”

Tom stared at him. “You nearly died in Luxor! And I had to figure out how to get you out of there! What the hell more needed to happen to make me hate it?”

“I’m sure there’s something else,” James persisted. “But if you’re going to be stubborn about it–”

“You think I’m stubborn?” Tom interrupted. “Let me tell you–”

“Just answer the question. Jones – or whatever his name really is. Why was he here? What did you give him? And why did you owe him money?”

“We owed him money.” Tom waved at one of the shelves. “For a whole crate of goods, some of which you already sold this morning, by the looks of things.”

James nodded. “I’ve made several sales today. Rosenfeldt has been. He bought three of the four pieces you suggested, plus some of those rubbishy beads for his granddaughter. But I thought those Luxor crates–”

“Those were just fine,” Tom interrupted once more. “It was one of the Giza ones that we owed for. Edward sent it along with his lot, but it actually came from Mr. Jones’ agent there. And there was one item of his packed in with our stuff.”

“Smuggling? Is that the game you’re playing?”

“What? No!”

“Then what?”

Thomas hesitated a moment. “I’m just branching out a little. In case the fashion turns to something else.”

James scowled. “What was in our crate?”

“Nothing that hasn’t been in one of our previous ones,” Tom answered. He held up a hand to quell his brother’s objection. “You know it’s not worth it to send just one item. It only makes economic sense to send the whole crate. But Jones only wanted one item for the moment and I said he could ship it to us and collect from here.”

“How, in the name of thunder, does that constitute branching out?”

“We turned a tidy profit on the transaction, let me tell you!”

James looked away, unable to argue but uneasy nonetheless. “I’m not sure we should do that again. I’m not sure it’s worth the risks involved.”

“What risks? I told you, there was nothing there that hadn’t been in our crates before.”

“That’s why I think there’s a risk involved,” James answered, slowly. “Because you worded it that way. And we both know that some of our previous crates have had things in them which don’t exactly conform to the nature of our business.”

This time, Thomas scowled. “The only things that we’ve ever received that haven’t been publicly displayed on our shelves here were sent to us by Edward as a gift.”

James hesitated a long moment. “Then you admit it? You let Edward supply the elixir to this Jones character?”

“Have you tried it?” Tom asked, barely above a whisper.

James nodded. “A couple of times. I’m not sure whether I like it.”

“I can’t get over the smell,” Tom admitted. “A part of me wants to know what all the fuss is about, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

“You should be less fussy about your food and drink.” James gave a derisive sniff. “When I think of the way you carried on during our joint trip, I’m almost ashamed to know you. And I don’t know whether I should let you go back to Egypt at all.”

Tom glanced around the showroom. “The way business is now, I don’t think we need to. Our contacts over there can handle that end. We’ll just stay here and work this end of the business.”

“It will suit you not to have to return to Luxor,” James pointed out, while watching his brother closely.

Tom grimaced. “I meant what I said to Jones. I’m never going back there, even if I live to be a hundred.”

James nodded, letting the matter drop. Tom might have evaded his questions this time, but he would find out what really happened in the end.

Some weeks passed. Late one afternoon, while he minded the shop alone, James was surprised to hear the bell on the door ring. It had been a quiet week, with few customers, and closing time was only about ten minutes away.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, then recognised the visitor as not a customer, but a fellow dealer, with whom they sometimes did business. “What can I do for you today, Mr. Ritter?”

“Your brother is not here?” Lionel Ritter asked. “No matter. I’m sure that you know all about the thing I’m here to talk about.”

James smiled. “It depends on the subject. We each have our specialities.”

The other man nodded. “I’ve come to pay back the favour you so kindly did me in Luxor last year.”

For a moment, James’ face froze. He did not know of any favour in Luxor, or anywhere else. Then a memory surfaced, of spending time waiting for a shipment to be unloaded and the conversation the two of them had had. Ritter had suggested paying for them to run some kind of errand, if they were in Egypt in the following few months. James hadn’t heard anything else about the matter and had forgotten it entirely.

“Forgive me,” he asked, a moment later. “I was unwell in Luxor and the matter slipped my mind.”

“Ah, yes, I do remember something about that.” The other man shook his head. “It’s one of the perils of foreign travel, I’m afraid. But anyway, I’m here to say that I’m taking a trip to Cairo myself next week. Your brother and I arranged, of course, that I would do something for you, since you’d been so helpful to me and so I just dropped by to let you know that I’m leaving on Tuesday.”

“Can I discuss the matter with Thomas?” he asked. “One of us could come and see you at your convenience to confirm the details.”

“That sounds good,” Ritter replied. “How does tomorrow at five sound?”

“Very good.” James made a note of it. “Five o’clock tomorrow at your shop. Either my brother or I will be there.”

Ritter nodded approval, they said their goodbyes and he departed.

James closed up the shop, deep in thought. Something tugged at his memory, but he could not quite bring it into focus. He would have to talk it through with Tom.

The chance to do just that did not come up until the following morning.

“Where have you been?” James demanded, as Tom sauntered into the shop an hour after opening. “I haven’t seen you since this time yesterday!”

His brother assumed an affronted expression. “How, exactly, is that my fault? You didn’t let me in last night.”

James frowned. “Start at the beginning. You left here yesterday morning, saying you’d only be half an hour…”

Thomas nodded. “I did that business at the bank. Then on the way back, I ran into a guy who I’d been talking to about some new shelves, and I went back to his place to look at some samples. Then, since I was in the area, I dropped in on the customer with the complaint about the vase – and I told him it wasn’t our fault if he broke it six months after he bought it and that I wasn’t going to replace it for free; I don’t care if we lose his business; he’s a nuisance.”

“Agreed.” Jim continued to frown. “What next?”

“Well, after that, it was hardly worth coming back here when it was almost closing time, so I went home. But I had a date with Mabel last night, and I left for it before you got home.”

James shook his head. “Who is Mabel?”

“Just a girl I know,” Tom answered. “And what do you mean, leaving me locked out afterwards? I had to come back here to sleep.”

“I hadn’t the slightest idea where you were, or when you were expected back,” James answered. “And what do you mean, you slept here? You weren’t here when I got in.”

“I had to go out and get some breakfast,” Tom explained, as if this was obvious. “But I’m here now, and I don’t suppose there’s any harm done.”

“Isn’t there?” James let the question hang ominously for a long moment. “Lionel Ritter dropped by just before closing yesterday.”

“Oh? What did he want?”

Again, James paused. “What favour did you do him in Luxor last year?”

Tom became very still. “In Luxor?”

“Does this have something to do with your little side business?” James demanded, deliberately trying to keep Thomas from thinking up a plausible story.

“With what?” Confusion flashed across Thomas’s face, then an instant of guilt, followed by relief. “No. Not in the slightest. I just went to see someone for Ritter. I forget, exactly. It wasn’t anything important.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t important! Because you were delirious and it didn’t matter what I said!”

“I meant, later.” James’ frown became a positive scowl. “You’ve never admitted exactly what trouble you got into in Luxor.”

Tom looked away. “I did the best I could while you were sick. You don’t know what it was like, having to do everything for myself and wondering if you were going to die there.”

All at once, James relented. He knew that the experience had scared his younger brother. It seemed cruel to bring up those emotions again, and for what? To satisfy his curiosity?

“So, what arrangement did you make with Ritter?” he asked, in gentler tones. “He said something about doing something for us when he leaves for Cairo next Tuesday.”

Tom brightened. “I’d forgotten about that. I was going to get him to take something to Edward for me, on his next trip.”

At this, James’ eyebrows rose. “You wanted something taken to Edward. And you arranged this a year ago? Before our trip?”

Before their trip, Tom had intended to cut Edward loose and find other suppliers. It wasn’t until their last day in Giza just before they came home that he’d changed his mind.

Tom thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not exactly. I had a different idea at the time, but that’s what I’m thinking of now. There are things we can send him that will give us more credit than their value, because they’re hard to get over there.”

James nodded and let the matter go. “Well, then, you can go and see Ritter this afternoon at five and make the arrangements.”

His brother smiled. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

For a long while afterwards, James wondered if he had done the right thing. He could not shake the suspicion that his brother was up to something that he shouldn’t be, and that he had just played right into Tom’s hands.

James did not see or hear from his brother from the time that Tom left to see Ritter that afternoon until a message arrived early the following afternoon. He’d spent a good deal of the intervening time fuming at Tom’s absence and was in no mood for games. He stared coldly at the crumpled note handed to him by a fashionably dressed young woman he had never seen before.

“What’s this, then?” he asked.

She raised a thin eyebrow. “You are James Frayne, aren’t you? It’s from your brother.”

“Yes, but what does it mean?” He frowned at the scratchings, which gave the name of a hospital and a ward number. “Where is my brother? Have you seen him?”

“No. They wouldn’t let me in.”

A chill ran through him. “You mean, this is where he is?” He waved the note. “Do you know what happened?”

She shrugged. “A car bowled him over last night. They say he’ll be okay, but they’re not letting him out.”

“Thank you for telling me, Miss…”

“Mason,” she supplied. “Mabel Mason.”

“Thank you, Miss Mason.”

She nodded and left without another word.

James watched her leave, and then his gaze returned to the note. He glanced at his watch, finding that closing time was still hours away. He had been expecting a particular client and it would not do to shut up shop early.

While he was still trying to decide what was best, his client arrived.

“What’s wrong?” the man asked, at once.

Without really meaning to, James admitted, “I’ve just had some bad news. My brother is in hospital after an accident.”

The man sprung into action. “Well, what are we standing here for? My little bit of shopping can wait.”

He found a piece of card, a pencil and some tacks under the counter and lettered a sign: ‘Closed due to family emergency’. Then he led the gently protesting James outside and pinned it up.

“Which hospital?”

James showed him the note.

“I’ll drive you,” the customer offered. “My car’s this way.”

The man wove his way expertly through the traffic and stopped close to the hospital. He then insisted on accompanying James inside. As he trailed behind the authoritative figure, it occurred to James for the first time that he did not actually know what the man did for a living – if, in fact, he needed to do anything at all.

The client, a man by the name of Reed, asked directions and led the way right up to the nurse’s desk of the ward indicated on Miss Mason’s note.

“Look here,” Reed addressed a nurse. “This fellow’s brother is a patient here and he’s come to find out what’s become of him. Can you help?”

She gave James a cool look, but had soon extracted enough information from him to identify the patient.

“Oh, yes. The road accident case.” She nodded in the direction of the ward. “You’ll find him in the second bed. He can have a visitor for ten minutes and then I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

James thanked her and set off in the direction indicated.

“So Mabel did take you the note,” Tom greeted, while looking at him through half-opened eyes. “I wasn’t sure she would.”

“She wasn’t very communicative,” he replied. “What happened to you? All she said was that you were hit by a car.”

“I was.” Tom sighed. “I’d only just left Ritter’s place. I didn’t see it coming and no one knows what happened.”

James paused a moment. “You mean, the driver hit you and didn’t stop?”

Tom began to nod, then thought better of it. “That’s exactly what I mean. The scoundrel just drove away and left me there, in the middle of the street.”

“And how long are you going to be laid up?”

“Heaven knows!” Tom burst out, then winced. “They don’t tell me anything and my head hurts too much to argue.” His eyes opened fully. “Now, listen. You’ve got to keep the store open, while I’m in here. We can’t afford to be closed for however long this is going to take. You’re going to just have to do everything yourself.”

“Of course,” James answered.

“But if that next shipment comes in before I’m out, you’re going to have to wait for me,” he continued. “Don’t even open the crates until I’m there.”

At that, James bristled. “I think you can trust me to at least check that everything we ordered is inside them. I’m not a complete amateur.”

“And what would you do with it all, if you unpacked it?” Tom asked. “You can’t put it on display if it doesn’t have a price. And you’re no good at pricing things.”

“I could pack it back up again,” James pointed out, scowling. “Though what I would do with the crates, opened or unopened, I don’t know.”

“You’ll think of something,” his brother answered, and sank back into his pillow. “You’re going to have to do all of the thinking from now until my head feels better.”

“Well, I’ll let you have a rest,” James told him. “Is there anything you need?”

But Tom couldn’t think of anything and James left him.

Mr. Reed, who had waited near the nurse’s desk, asked, “How is he?”

“Not too bad, considering,” James answered. Turning to the nurse, he asked, “Do you know how long he’ll be here?”

She shrugged. “Until doctor says he can leave.”

“I see.”

“I’ll run you back, if you like,” Reed offered. “If you’re up to it, I’d still like to look at that piece you had set aside for me. But I’ll understand if you’re tired.”

“Not at all,” James answered. “I’m very much relieved. My brother was more irritated than hurt, I think.”

Reed smiled. “That’s a very good sign, in my experience. I wish him a speedy recovery.”

The next two weeks proved to be trying for James. Thomas remained in hospital, but soon found ways to send messages to his brother. Some of them were delivered by male friends of his and others by Mabel Mason. By the third time he met her, James developed a distinct dislike of that young woman. He also developed a dislike for Tom’s messages themselves, though for different reasons.

Don’t place the next order until I’ve seen the list, read one.

Make sure you don’t mix up the Late Period stuff with the Middle Kingdom pieces when you rearrange the shelves, chided another. James tossed that one straight in the waste paper basket. History was his strong-point, not Tom’s.

If Rosenfeldt calls by, tell him I’m expecting something he’ll like in the next order. This one had been handed to him by a coldly indifferent Miss Mason.

“Thank you,” he told her. “If you see my brother, please assure him that I will keep his advice in mind.”

“I don’t know that I will,” she replied. “A girl doesn’t like to be kept waiting like this. I wish he’d get out of that bed and stop lazing around.”

She sauntered out the door, hips swinging. James scowled at her back. It had been a useless message. Their regular customer Rosenfeldt seldom called by. On the slim chance that he did, that was exactly what James would have told him, no matter what they were expecting. The episode had simply proven that Miss Mason was intensely selfish and didn’t seem to care who knew it.

But other than these minor irritations, most things went well. James was kept busy tending to the shop, dealing with customers and rearranging the stock to fill empty spaces as he made sales. He dropped into bed exhausted each night, having done all the work usually done by two. And the next shipment still had not arrived, which was a relief. If he could not get it on the shelves, he would rather it be elsewhere altogether.

The shipment finally arrived, nearly two weeks after Tom got out of hospital. James had to pay someone to deliver it, rather than collecting it themselves from the dock, because he couldn’t handle it all on his own.

“You’re not opening it,” Tom ordered, from the chair where he rested. “You’re going to leave that to me.”

James cast his brother a condescending look. “You couldn’t take the lid off a crate. You can hardly lift your fork to your mouth.”

“I’m practically better!” Tom snapped.

“Really.” James shook his head. “Broken ribs don’t heal that quickly. You’d better let me help you.”

“I don’t need anything,” Tom grumbled, but he made no objection when James picked up the crowbar and set to work.

“You mark off the pieces against the manifest as I unpack them,” James suggested. “That way, you’ll see everything, but without doing yourself any more injuries.”

His brother frowned, but did as he was told. He insisted, however, that they be unpacked in a certain order. The crates emptied, one by one, until only one remained.

“That’s enough for one day,” Tom announced, as James picked up the crowbar once more. “Just push that last one into the back room.”

James snatched the manifest and scanned down it to find out what should be in this crate. Nothing seemed to distinguish it from any of the others.

“I’m tired, and hungry, and sore, and I want to go home.” Tom snatched the paper back again. “We can finish tomorrow.”

James considered the matter for a moment, then agreed. He pushed the crate aside and they closed up. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

In the morning when they opened up, James was puzzled to see the lid of the last crate already unfastened. He had been sure that it was still nailed down when they left the night before. He called it to his brother’s attention.

Tom gave him a funny look. “You did that. Last night, before we left.”

“I most certainly did not!”

But his brother insisted. “I saw you do it. And, anyway, look at it. Nothing inside has been touched.”

James poked a finger into the straw, which certainly did look undisturbed. He could feel a hard shape among the packing material, perhaps a vase or jar. He thought for a moment. He remembered picking up the crowbar to open this crate, but didn’t remember following through. Surely Tom had told him not to?

“We might as well unpack it now,” Tom decided, with a glance at his watch. “It’s not quite time to open the shop, yet.”

They followed that plan, and James kept silent as he worked. He could not shake the feeling that he had missed something important. But when the job was finished, the contents perfectly matched the manifest and he was forced to put his misgivings to rest.

As always, the new shipment meant plenty of work to do and since James had to do most of it himself, he had a full program for the next few weeks. Customers came and went. The shelves needed to be rearranged after each big purchase. Another, smaller shipment arrived, and they had to be done all over again. But James noted one absence.

“I haven’t seen that girl lately,” he commented to Thomas, who stood idly in the doorway to the back room, eyeing the display that James had just finished.

“No.” He frowned. “I think that urn would look better over there.”

James glanced at the position indicated. “Maybe. But it’s not from the same period as those pieces. I thought you wanted us to be particular about that.”

Tom made a careless gesture. “As a principle, yes. But sometimes the look of things is more important.”

“Are you still seeing Miss Mason?” James asked, recognising this as an attempt at distraction.

His brother glanced down at his feet. “No. She lost patience with me. I wasn’t recovering quick enough and she decided I was too weak.”

Privately, James did not think this much of a loss, but he sensed that some hurt lay below the casual words. Instead of expressing his own feelings on the matter, he murmured, “That’s too bad.”

Tom looked up. “You didn’t even like her.”

“True,” James admitted. “But you did.”

His brother sighed. “I don’t think we had very much in common. I suppose it was inevitable.”

James did not know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“I think I’m going to go out for a while,” Tom decided. “I’ll probably see you at home.”

James nodded and let him go. In Tom’s place, he’d like some time alone, too.

The door opened and James looked up to see Lionel Ritter entering.

“Good morning,” he greeted. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Yes, I just got in the night before last,” the other man replied. “I never do anything the day after one of these trips.”

“How was it?”

“Good, good. I had good success in Cairo and neither of my Atlantic crossings made me sick. So better than average, I’d say.” He opened the bag he carried and pulled out some items, laying them on the counter. “I did your little errand in Giza. Here’s a note for you from Mr. Haverford. And a parcel from Mr. Garcia – I thank you kindly for giving me an introduction to him. And a little something from me.”

“Thank you very much,” James answered, after a moment of mental gymnastics. He found it hard to remember that Mr. Haverford meant Edward. “That’s very kind of you.”

“I like to think that our businesses are complementary to each other,” Mr. Ritter told him. “We build on each others’ successes.”

James was inclined to agree. “Yes, and I look forward to working with you further in the future.”

Ritter smiled. “As do I. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have several other errands to run. I find the first few days after a trip very tiring, don’t you?”

“Certainly,” James answered. “Have a good day. And thank you, again.”

The other man departed and James turned to the items he had left. The letter was addressed to Tom. He frowned at it for a moment and set it aside. Luis Garcia’s package contained some small items they had asked him to source for a particular collector. Tom could make an appointment to go and see the man and negotiate a sale. He was good at that sort of thing and the package was neither heavy nor bulky, so he would not need help.

He opened Ritter’s gift. Beneath layers of brown paper and newsprint, he found a circular metal object rather like a small plate. It had been decorated with ancient Egyptian imagery, but it was clearly modern. On the back, a loop for hanging it had been mounted. James was still puzzling over this item when his brother returned.

“What’s that?” Tom greeted, as he sauntered inside.

“A gift from Lionel Ritter,” James replied. “And there’s a letter for you from Edward and a package from Garcia. I think you can handle that one.”

“Naturally.” He picked up Ritter’s gift and his face flushed. “Oh. I see.”

“What do you see?”

“It’s for us to hang up. To show that we’re dealers in genuine antiquities.”

James cast a look around their showroom, at the genuine antiquities that surrounded them. They had, by now, disposed of nearly all of the more dubious goods from his first solo trip to Egypt. Their current stock would stand scrutiny from the most expert examiner.

“Why do we need something to show that? You can see it, just by looking.”

“Well, it would be rude not to put it up, when he’s gone to the trouble of getting it for us,” Tom answered, not quite meeting his eyes. “We’ll just hang it here, behind the counter.”

He went and got a hammer and a nail from the back room. In a minute or two, he had hung it and put the hammer away.

“Are you sure about this?” James asked, squinting at it. “I don’t see any words anywhere that would tell anyone what it means.”

“You just have to know,” Tom assured him. “Now, I’d better write to tell that man that we’ve got some things for him to see.”

James nodded and let him go through to the back room. A little while later, Tom returned holding an envelope.

“I’ll just send this,” he explained. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

James shook his head. “No. But I wanted to know what Edward’s letter was about.”

Tom pulled it out of his pocket and dropped it on the counter. “Read it yourself.”

After he had gone, James picked up the single sheet and scanned through it. He frowned. The short note contained nothing much of interest. He could hardly see why Edward had bothered. James shook his head. He was imagining things. He must be.

The next excitement happened unexpectedly, in the middle of an otherwise uninteresting afternoon. The door to the street was flung open to admit Tom, who appeared to be in a furious temper.

“The nerve of him!” he ejaculated, slamming the door closed behind him and making the bell clang. “I’ve a good mind to go and punch his lights out.”

James considered his brother for a moment. “Who are you talking about?”

“That cheating bastard, Ritter!”

“What has he done?”

Tom let out an exasperated breath. “I just saw him in the street. With Mabel!”

James frowned. “What of it? Surely, there’s an innocent explanation.”

“She was all over him!” His brother pounded a fist on the counter. “And after what I did for him, too.”

“What you did for him in Luxor.” James nodded. “So, that’s the explanation. You got in trouble while doing something shady for Ritter.”

Tom’s face flushed and the anger seemed to seep out of him. “No. Not exactly. He didn’t ask me to do anything shady.”

“But you were running his errand when things went wrong,” James persisted.

His brother looked away. “I made a mistake. I talked to the wrong person. There’s something fishy happening in Luxor and the further we stay away from there, the better I’ll like it. But my getting into trouble wasn’t Ritter’s fault; not that time.”

James took a moment to think about this. “Does Ritter know that you were going places with Mabel?”

Tom ran a hand over his face. “Ah. You know, I don’t think he did.”

“So, it’s not a betrayal, is it? If he didn’t know.”

“Well, no.”

“And you’d stopped seeing the girl weeks ago.”

“Well, yes.”

“So, Ritter really hasn’t done anything wrong, at all.”

Tom sighed. “I guess not.” He straightened. “But it would make me feel a whole lot better if I punched him.”

The idea surprised a short laugh out of James. “Maybe. But I think it would be better if you just let him be.”

He looked away. “I guess so.”

Another thought occurred to James. “Ritter must be close to fifty. And he’s not exactly in the best of shape. What do you suppose she sees in him?”

Their eyes met.

“Are you suggesting,” Tom asked, at last, “that Mabel wanted something more from me than just a good time?”

“I don’t know. It’s an idea.” James frowned. “We might both need to be careful.”

But Tom did not seem to be listening. “I told her that I wasn’t going back to Luxor,” he mused. “I told her I didn’t like the way they did things there. And the next day she dumped me.”

“There might be something in that,” James admitted. “And she might have tried Ritter when you couldn’t get her into whatever it is that’s happening in Luxor. Or maybe it’s all a coincidence.”

Tom shuddered. “Now that I look at it that way, I feel like I’ve had a lucky escape.”

“We don’t know that she’s doing anything wrong,” James pointed out, even though he was pleased with the outcome of the incident.

“I know.” Tom glanced around. “I think I’m going to take a walk and clear my head. I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

James nodded and let him go. He welcomed the solitude. He wanted time to put his thoughts in order.

He still did not have all the sordid details, but he felt a lot easier in his mind over the events of their last trip. Tom’s explanation that he had fallen into trouble by chance and not by design came as a very great relief. Not that James had thought it likely that his brother had gone out seeking trouble, or any of the less moral business dealings that might be found in such a place.

More recent events also fell into a more satisfactory light. James was still a little uneasy about his brother dealing in the elixir, but no laws were being broken, so far as he knew, and it did not seem likely to cause trouble.

He looked around their showroom with satisfaction. Business was looking up. Tom had nearly returned to his old self. In short, they appeared to be heading into a season of stability and prosperity. James smiled. Their gamble was paying off.

Ten Acres

1962

“How is it going?” Nell asked, as she set a cup of coffee next to her husband’s right hand.

James picked up the sheet of paper on which he had listed key events and let out a heavy sigh. “Not well. I can hardly believe how blind I was. How could young Win understand?”

Nell took the paper from him and ran a finger down the list. “I don’t think you were blind. Young, yes. Inexperienced, perhaps. You hadn’t met up with many businessmen before you started your own business. You had no way of knowing how they would behave.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “But the more I think about it, the more glad I am that we sold up when we did.”

“You would have lost all of your money if you hadn’t,” she pointed out, smiling.

James nodded. “I’m not sure if that would have been a bad thing. It would solve the difficulty we’re having with Harlan and Win. They couldn’t object to money that no longer existed.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” She patted his hand. “Don’t worry about it so much, James. Win will come around when he’s ready.”

Again, he nodded. “I hope so, my darling. He’s the best hope the family has for the next generation. I have a feeling that the Frayne name will depend on him.”

“I’m sure he’ll make good,” she answered. “He’s got a good future ahead of him.”

James smiled, and hoped with all his heart that her prediction would come true.

The End… (for now)

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