alabaster statuette. “Why not the crocodile? It is very beautiful.”
“The question was not which is the most beautiful or costly,” declared Archie. “You asked which were the genuine artefacts and which the fakes. I choose the scarab and the earrings.”
“Well done, Archibald!” The earl began clapping his hands very slowly. “You are correct. Those are genuine Egyptian antiques. You have the talent, lad. You will get on.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But tell me,” continued Lord Gower, picking up the brooch. “Why did you not choose this pretty bauble, or the hippo and crocodile?”
“The brooch is too . . .” Archie hesitated, then offered a shrug. “Too shiny. Real gemstones are more subtle. I think the setting is real, but the stones must be imitation. And the hippo is wrong.”
“What do you mean, wrong? Explain.”
“The hippo is too small, and it looks like a pig. I suspect the object was made by someone who had never seen the real animal. Or perhaps the craftsman simply copied this piece from another figurine.” He waved a hand at the cat and owl. “The cat is of good design and workmanship, but the material is not authentic. An Egyptian artist would have used stone. Likewise the owl.”
“What is wrong with the owl?”
“The figure is cast in silver—again, not a material an Egyptian artist of the classical period would have used.” He glanced at his instructor for approval. “Am I right?”
“You are entirely correct.” Gower beamed at his pupil. “My boy, you have learned your lessons well. I think you are ready to accompany me to the sales room.”
“I am honoured, sir.” Archie felt a quiver of excitement at the thought. Although inwardly spinning cartwheels of joy, he maintained a calm and disinterested manner—the way His Lordship had taught him: a shrewd trader never revealed his true emotions. An unguarded gush of enthusiasm could easily drive up the price of a bargain, or worse, ruin an acquisition altogether. “I will do my best not to betray the trust you have placed in me.”
“I am certain you will acquit yourself in a right worthy manner.” The earl began picking up the valuables to return them to their respective cases in the hall. “Tomorrow,” he said, fingering the brooch, “we will begin your education on the floor of Sotheby’s Auction House.”
The next day they rode by carriage along the Strand, disembarking at the end of Wellington Street and proceeding on foot the last few hundred yards so that the earl might view some of his London properties. His holdings in the city were by some measures modest, but provided a steady income that to Archie seemed positively astronomical. Not that the young man was in any position to complain; Lord Gower provided him with a weekly allowance as well as a yearly stipend, a fair portion of which he passed along to his mother.
During his time in Lord Gower’s employ, Archie had risen from the humblest of beginnings as menial dogsbody, ascending rung by rung in the earl’s estimation as greater trust and responsibility were conferred upon him. From odd job and errand boy, Archie had become, in turn, scullion help, groom, assistant footman, footman, second under-butler, assistant valet, and so on, to arrive at what amounted to the role of personal private secretary. When the earl went upcountry, Archie went with him; when the earl travelled on the Continent, Archie was there to help with all and sundry arrangements; when the earl and his entourage decamped for the earl’s northern estate, Archie was sent on ahead to make ready the house and grounds for His Lordship’s arrival. And nowadays, whenever the earl was summoned to Windsor, or attended the House of Lords, Archie went too.
All the while the young man was learning the manners and customs of the elite, biding his time until he could strike out on his own to make his fortune. “A man must have an occupation,” the earl had advised him years ago. “What will be yours, I wonder?”
“Can I not remain in your service, sir?” he had asked. Archie was twelve years old at the time and could conceive of nothing better than being a member of the earl’s household staff.
“As long as you like,” answered Lord Gower. “But, my dear boy, I shall not live forever. Much as I might regret it, when I go, my lands and titles will pass to a cousin whom I have not seen in twenty years. That is a fact of law. In any case, I