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Updated: June 18, 2025
On oath, before a notary, the Efficient Baxter would have declared that J. Preston Peters was about to try to purloin the scarab. Lest we should seem to be attributing too miraculous powers of intuition to Lord Emsworth's secretary, it should be explained that the mystery which hung about that curio had exercised his mind not a little since his employer had given it to him to place in the museum.
I saw her glance sidewise at Agnes, the other maid, who stood with her back to us putting Nyoda's shoes onto trees; then she looked boldly at Nyoda and deliberately winked one eye! Nyoda looked at her with a puzzled frown. Carrie became all meekness and deference in a moment; she laid the scarab down on the table beside Nyoda's purse and went about her duties without raising her eyes.
The finding of the scarab did, however, establish two important conclusions; namely, that John Bellingham had probably met with foul play, and that of the four persons present when it was found, one at least had had possession of the body.
"Have you located the scarab yet?" "No." "What the devil have you been doing with yourself then? You've had time to collar it a dozen times." "I have been talking to the butler." "What the devil do you waste time talking to butlers for? I suppose you haven't even located the museum yet?" "Yes; I've done that." "Oh, you have, have you? Well, that's something.
What time did you get to the museum?" "One o'clock." "And you found the scarab gone. What does that suggest to you?" "Nothing. What does it suggest to you?" "Absolutely nothing. Let us try again. Whoever took the scarab must have had special information that Peters was offering the reward." "Then why hasn't he been to Mr. Peters and claimed it?" "True!
She did not know she was doing it; she did not fully understand how could she? she was just holding back the door which was closing. She lifted the amulet in the form of a scarab, of which the base was in the shape of a heart, and which just touched the mark that looked like a crimson rose.
He gave away a hundred thousand a year ago to a university." "But for a grubby little scarab!" "You don't understand how father loves his scarabs. Since he retired from business, he has been simply wrapped up in them. You know collectors are like that. You read in the papers about men giving all sorts of money for funny things."
Peters' interior good on the lines he had mapped out in their conversation; for, of course, directly he had restored the scarab to its rightful owner and pocketed the reward, his position as healer and trainer to the millionaire would cease automatically.
He knew that this was fatal and exerted himself to drag them back. He tried to concentrate his mind on some one definite thing. He selected the scarab as a suitable object, but it played him false. He had hardly concentrated on the scarab before his mind was straying off to ancient Egypt, to Mr. Peters' dyspepsia, and on a dozen other branch lines of thought.
Those I have name will show you that I am sufficiently feathered with diplomas to fly into even a sick-room. Early in life fortunately for my interests and pleasures, but unfortunately for my pocket I fell in with Egyptology. I must have been bitten by some powerful scarab, for I took it bad.
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