Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk

40 RON GOULART
"Not the foggiest."
"Or why?"
"Supposed to be a curse on the obelisk. Never believed that rot before. But now."
Harry buttoned his shirt. "Know Max Orchardson?"
"By reputation. Believe he was asked to leave one of my London clubs a few years ago. Never
met the fellow. Wouldn't want to. Why do you ask?"
"He's interested in the obelisk."
"Suppose he would be. Goes in for a lot of magical nonsense. Not a gentleman, you know."
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Harry pulled on a sock. "What about Anwar Zaytoon?"
"The Merchant of Death chap?" He masked a small chuckle. "Never met the bloke personally,
but did see a rather amusing cartoon of him in one of the weeklies not long ago. Artist— clever
chaps these artists, how they do it beats me— this artist, I say, depicted old Zaytoon as a vulture,
don't you know, feeding on a fat corpse that was labeled Ungodly Munitions Profits. Awfully droll.
Has the old boy been paying attention to the obelisk also?"
"Some, yes."
"Can't, for the life of me, figure out why." He fitted his polished monocle back into his eye.
"Not much of an obelisk as obelisks go. I mean to say, the blooming one they've got right here in
Paris beats it all hollow. Midget by comparison. Truth to tell, Challenge old man, I'd just as soon
we'd left the thing there in the sand. Others insisted." He shook his head. "Understand Baron Groll
paid a pretty penny for it and, which I ought to be grateful for, he's invited me to spend a few
weeks at his estate in Urbania. Wants to jaw about the obelisk, Egypt and all that sort of thing."
"Which is why you want to tag along on this jaunt?"
"Once again, old thing, you've hit the nail on the proverbial head," said young Pennoyer
admiringly. "Safe as houses, traveling with you and a trainload of French bobbies. That's how I see
it."
"I suppose so, but—"
"Already chatted with Inspector Swann. Last evening. Have a jolly nice note from him giving
me the old boy's blessing. Where'd I put the blasted thing?" He began searching his pockets. "Jove,
here's that one hundred pounds. Your pater suggested I offer you this as a bonus should you show
any reluctance to undertake the job. Are you?"
Harry took the money from his hand. "Not yet, but I might at any moment."
An hour after the special train pulled out of Paris the rain began. A heavy rain, hitting hard at
the windows of Harry's compartment.
"Cozy," observed Jennie. She was seated opposite him, next to a basket full of food and wine
she'd packed for the journey.
He was watching the new rain fall on the French countryside. "Hmm?"