Richard Hetherington ran his hands over the black, staring eyes, the smooth, yellow painted face.
“The price?” he asked.
“Sixty pounds,” the antiquities dealer replied. “On account of the fact that it’s empty.”
“And if I don’t want an empty one?”
“I’ve three with mummies inside. They’re over here.” The dealer threaded his way past gleaming wooden elephants, elaborately carved Oriental chests, a headless marble statue.
Even in the dim light the three coffins at the back of the shop appeared to glow. They were all in fairly good condition. Hetherington tried to quell his excitement.
“Do you know their provenance?”
“My man in Cairo said he purchased them from a Theban family. They were of a set that was going to be sold to the consul but he managed to acquire a few.” The man’s mouth set primly. Hetherington wondered what the word ‘managed’ obscured.
“But who are…who were they? Royalty?”
“Yes, we all want kings and queens, don’t we?” The dealer smiled, revealing small pointy teeth. “To remind us that even they can come to this, mere merchandise. Afraid not, . . ..