"Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

In an alcove, illuminated by a single hanging lamp, a carved coffin with
a lid of gold, turquoise and crimson rested on a low platform.
Noticing something stuck to a nail on the platform, Harry bent and
took it. "Little hunk of linen," he said, passing it under his nose. "Doesn't
smell especially ancient."
The museum director blinked. "May I inspect that, monsieur?"
 "I don't think it came from the mummy in that case."
"No, certainly not. This bit of cloth is of recent manufacture." He was
rubbing it between his fingers. "Superficially like that used to wrap the
bodies of our Egyptian friends, yet not the real thing. How, do you think,
did this come to be here?"
Retrieving the patch, Harry tucked it into the watch pocket of his vest.
"We'll try to find that out tonight."
Allegre gestured at the coffin. "This is made of wood. Over the lid was
placed first a layer of plaster and then one of gold. After which the—"
"Does the lid lift off easily?" inquired Jennie.
"It is not too difficult to remove, Mile. Barr." Smiling, he demonstrated.
Harry took a look inside. "This fellow can't do much walking around,
not with his legs wrapped together that way."
"Precisely what I tried to explain to those fools, Gaspar and Albert." He
nodded toward Jennie. "Would you care for a glimpse of King
Baydmadroub II?"
"Pass," she said.
"Now I'd like," requested Harry, "to see the obelisk."
After returning the inlaid coffin lid to its place, Allegre said, "It's really
not that impressive, monsieur. A very small and stunted thing that is no
match for the so-called Cleopatra's Needle that—" "Even so."
The director sighed, shrugged, patted his hair. "Very well. If you will but
follow me."
Slowly he led them through the big room, along a dimly lit corridor and
into a smaller room.
Mounted upright on a wooden stand was the miniature obelisk, a
tapering shaft of red granite profusely covered with carved hieroglyphs.
Two small gas lamps, one on each side of the room, provided the only
light.
Allegre hunched his shoulders. "A paltry example, hardly worth making
a fuss about," he observed, stroking his nose. "It stands approximately six
foot eight in height, which makes it roughly one tenth the size of the
obelisk to be found in your country."
Jennie edged closer. "Do these inscriptions spell out the curse?"
"Among other things." Reluctantly he joined her near the obelisk.
"Those lower rows there, near the base, provide the phrases that give the
obelisk its unsavory reputation."
Harry strolled over. "What do they say exactly?"
Impatiently Allegre translated. " 'By the awesome power of Osiris, who
holds the secret of eternal life, cursed be those who disturb this tomb.
Death, not life, shall be their sure and swift reward.' And so forth and so
on. A standard and not especially imaginative curse, as ancient curses go.
Yet sufficient, because of the idiocies practiced by the disgraceful press
to—"