The Chess Queen Enigma by Colleen Gleason Read Free Book Online Page B

“Well, that’s something. So if the chess queen is located, then the treasure is found.”
    â€œNaturally. And the Ankh is clearly after the treasure. Why else would she want the letter? Although,” I mused, “I would suspect the Ankh’s interest would lie more heavily toward the writings than jewels. Who knows what ancient secrets might be in those papers.”
    â€œSpeaking of the Ankh.” Evaline began pacing the chamber again. Her vehement steps made the glass jars on my dressing table clink. “What have you learned from the note Pix gave me? And don’t tell me you haven’t had time to look at it.”
    She was correct, of course. “I subjected the item to a number of vigorous tests and examinations. The penmanship has similarities to the two previous communications I received from the Ankh during your short-lived captivity at her hands. But I cannot be certain whether it—or any of the messages, for that matter—were actually scribed by the villainess in question. It is extremely likely, but not yet utterly provable, that all three were written by the same person. However, I did note several important factors about the origins of the scrap provided by Mr. Pix. I detected a scant bit of facial powder dusting the corner of the paper, which supports the supposition that it was a female correspondent. The brand of facial powder is lightly scented with vanilla and has a minute amount of gold dust mixed in, making it extremely unusual and expensive. Nevertheless, the ink is commonplace, and the paper easily obtained by anyone who frequents Mrs. Sofrit’s Stationery.”
    â€œThat hardly helps us at all! Wasn’t there anything else? You’re a Holmes, aren’t you? If it were your uncle,
he’d
be able to tell me everything about who wrote it just by looking at it!” Miss Stoker’s frustration was not the least bit becoming to a genteel young lady. I hoped she didn’t demonstrate this sort of behavior while with Princess Lurelia.
    The internal reminder of the Betrovian princess had me checking the small clock on my bureau. “Drat! It’s nearly eight. You’ve put me off my toilette, Evaline, and now I am going to be late. The princess’s carriage should be here any time.”
    â€œRight, then. I suppose I shall just have to continue this investigation on my own.” Apparently Miss Stoker wasn’t quite ready to give up her overt frustrations; but I had no energy or attention to spare her sensibilities.
    She flounced out of the room. A moment later, I heard her carriage drive off, and I wondered if she would actually direct Middy to take her to the ball or whether she would indeed take investigative matters into her own hands. That could be quite entertaining, watching Miss Stoker attempt to observe and deduce and follow a trail of clues.
    However, I would be greatly irked if she was absent from the ball and I was relegated to playing nursemaid to the drab, uninteresting Lurelia. We’d had very little interaction with the princess due to the events last evening, but Miss Adler had made it clear Evaline and I were to begin our chaperonage of the young woman tonight.
    I was just pulling on fingerless gloves of midnight blue lace, which reached halfway up my forearms and matched my sparkling, diaphanous over-gown, when Mrs. Raskill appeared in the doorway. She wore an expression somewhere between astonishment and irritation (she hated being interruptedduring her work). “There is a person here who claims he is to deliver you to a ball?” Her tone ended on a definite upswing, as if posing an inconceivable question to either me or herself.
    I snatched up my wrap (also of delicate dark blue lace, but decorated with swashes of tiny copper- and topaz-colored gems) along with a small handbag and hurried from the room.
    When I caught sight of the tall, broad-shouldered figure standing in the small vestibule, I