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The man’s face turned purple, and I bit my cheek to keep myself from laughing. He opened his mouth to reply, but broke off when his eyes fell to the golden ring glittering as it caught rays of sunlight streaming into the dim compartment.

“What an unusual ring,” he said slowly, leaning forward to better examine it.

Papá hadn’t told me anything about where it came from. There hadn’t even been a note with the package. That was the only reason I didn’t cover my ring finger. I was curious if my unfortunate companion could tell me something about it. “Why is it unusual?”

“It looks quite old. At least a century.”

“Is it?” I asked, hoping he might give me a better clue. I’d thought the ring an antique, but never did I think it was an actualartifact.Papá wouldn’t have actually sent me one… would he? He’d never steal something so priceless from a dig site.

Unease settled deep in my belly. I was afraid of the doubt rising like steam in my mind.

What if he had?

“May I take a closer look?”

I hesitated but lifted my hand closer to his face. He bent his head to examine it more closely. His expression turned hungry. Before I could say anything, he slipped the ring off my finger.

My jaw dropped. “Excuseme.”

He ignored my protest, squinting to catch every groove and detail. “Extraordinary,” he murmured under his breath. He fell silent, his whole body unmoving. He might have been a painting. Then he tore his gaze away from the ring and lifted his eyes to meet mine. His feverish attention made me uncomfortable.

Alarm whispered into my ear, told me to take my things and go. “Please give it back.”

“Where did you get this?” he demanded. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

The lie was instinctive. “Elvira Montenegro.”

He repeated my name, considering. No doubt searching his memory and tossing it around for any connections. “Do you have relatives here?”

I shook my head. Lying came easily, and thank goodness I’d had a lot of practice. I’d told a frightful many to get out of afternoons filled withsewing and stitching. “Like I said, I’m a widow here to see the great river and the pyramids.”

“But you must have acquired this ring from somewhere,” he pressed.

My heart thumped loudly against my corset. “A trinket stall next to the dock. May I have it back, please?”

“You have found this ring inAlexandria? How… curious.” His fingers curled around my father’s gift. “I’ll pay you ten sovereigns for it.”

“The ring isn’t for sale. Give it back.”

“It occurs to me that I haven’t told you what I do,” he said. “I’m an officer for the Antiquities Service.”

I leveled him with my coldest, haughtiest stare. “I want it back.”

“This ring would be a marvelous addition to a showcase highlighting Egyptian jewelry. Now, I personally think it’s your social responsibility to relinquish such an item in order that it receives proper care and attention. Others have a right to enjoy its workmanship in a museum.”

I arched a brow. “The museum in Egypt?”

“Naturally.”

“And how often are Egyptians encouraged to visit the museum showcasing their heritage? Not very often, would be my guess.”

“Well, I never—” He broke off, his face deepening to the exact shade of an eggplant. “I’m prepared to pay you twenty sovereigns for it.”

“A minute ago it was ten.”

He quirked a brow. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” I said firmly. “Because it’snotfor sale. And I know all about your profession, so I’ll thank you not to explain it to me. You’re no better than a grave robber.”