Read Murder Most Egyptological (A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery Book 3) for Free Online

platform. I was quite excited when I saw a tall native in exotic dress holding a sign with my name.
       Lucy had seen the dragoman as well. “There he is!”
       I became perplexed when a dapper young man standing behind the native fellow closed his watch and dropped it back into the pocket of his vest and then took the sign.
       Just nearing the two, the tall one mumbled something in his native tongue and then went about his business.
      The blond-headed man holding the sign clapped eyes on us and said, “I say, is that you, Mrs. Stayton? And you must be Ms. Wallace—welcome to Luxor.”
       Lucy and I looked to each other with wide eyes before I asked the chipper fellow, “Who are you?”
       “Linus Warner.” He took my hand to give it a delicate shake and then pointed at his flaxen hair. “But my friends call me Sandy.”
       Linus Warner, or rather Sandy as it was, did not fit the bill of a dragoman . He spoke with a very upper crust English accent and was dressed to the nines, albeit in ivory and khaki rather than typical dark colors. He cut a rather dashing figure, and seemed most charming.
       “I hadn’t realized that you were English,” I told him as he pointed to the porter and mumbled something in Arabic to the lad. 
       “I’m not sure that I still am. I’ve been here since the war, and I absolutely love the place. I have forgotten what a grey sky looks like, and snow—well, that sounds like some sort of fiction to awe children.
       “There are plenty of us old Brits here, anyway. Half of Luxor shuffles off for tea come four o’clock—I suppose that’s when the natives get their business done, while we all eat cucumber sandwiches in the hotel lobbies.” He chuckled at his conclusion.     
       Lucy and I were following him while he spoke, and before I knew it we were standing beside a very large black sedan. A dark-skinned fellow in livery dress opened the backdoor with a quick bow.
       “Climb on aboard; how in the world a giant American automobile made its way to Luxor, I don’t know, but the thing is as roomy as the Pyramids.” Sandy spoke again to the porter, and our luggage was taken to the rear of the car. The chipper fellow gave a chuckle and then corrected himself, “Truth be told, the Pyramids aren’t roomy at all, narrow shafts, little pockets here in there, dreadful really, but everyone wants to climb around in them—at least once that is.”
       While there was plenty of room in the back of the large automobile, Sandy showed his good manners by sitting in the front seat next to the chauffeur. While I, a widow, played the part of Lucy’s chaperon, it was simply better form for the dapper fellow not to become overly familiar with us.
       “So, Mrs. Stayton, you are from America. I suspect you are accustomed to these big cars,” Sandy said, his head turned so that he could converse with us.
       “Why yes; in fact, my father has a motorcar much like this,” I responded.
       “You don’t say; a driver too?” Sandy asked, showing his skill at making small talk.
      “Oh yes. I can’t imagine my father attempting to drive his way about. He’s a brilliant doctor, but he always seems preoccupied.”
       Wanting to add to the conversation, Lucy said, “Her father may not drive, but she has become quite the driver herself.”
       “You don’t say. Is that a fact?” Sandy waved about and said, “I haven’t driven in years. I never know which lane is for normal cars, giant Packards, or donkeys.” He ended his comment with a little chuckle.
       The narrow road, choked with gritty sand in the air, was densely populated. Stall after stall lined the avenue, if you could call it that. Foods of all sort were sold from carts of various condition and upkeep. A throng of people waded just inches away from the moving sedan, inspecting melons, dried fruit, and strange objects I knew not what.
       In addition to the many natives, I was