The Riddle of Dr Sphinx

by Margaret Ryan

  At the sudden noise, Inca and Diogenes and their friends appeared. Diogenes came towards us, arching his orange back and hissing.

  “Perhaps we’d better go inside,” I said.

  We entered the house and found ourselves in a dark, narrow passageway whose walls were cold and rough to the touch.

  “This is scary,” whispered Sara.

  “But exciting,” breathed Surinder.

  I said nothing. Where was Dr Sphinx? Perhaps we should go back. But the cats, including the angry Diogenes, were right behind us.

  At that moment, the passageway opened out into a large room. Sunlight filtered through the narrow windows showing the strange hieroglyphics covering the walls. Broken jars, some with lids with animal heads covered the tables, and bits of old stone littered the floor. There was dust everywhere. Dust and paw prints.

  “It’s not like a proper house,” I said. “There’s hardly any furniture. Just a lot of … rubbish.”

  “Ancient objects, you mean,” said a familiar voice, and Dr Sphinx appeared from a hidden door in the far wall.

  “Oh, er, hello,” I said. “Sorry, I mean… We did knock, er toot…”

  “You are welcome.” Dr Sphinx stooped to pick up Diogenes, who was still hissing. “Behave,” he told the cat. “These children won’t hurt you. They are Jonny’s friends.”

  “Sara and Surinder,” I said.

  “I’m very interested in ancient things,” said Sara.

  “And I’ve never seen a real mummy before,” said Surinder.

  “Then prepare to be amazed,” smiled Dr Sphinx, and led us to a tall cupboard in a dark corner. He felt in the pocket of his shirt, took out a large key, and unlocked the cupboard door. It creaked open. The three of us shivered with excitement.

  Inside the cupboard was a tall, glass case. We leaned forwards to peer at it. And there, staring back at us, all bandaged up, was an ancient Egyptian mummy.

  Chapter Five

  “I’d like you to meet Fred,” said Dr Sphinx, smiling.

  “A mummy called Fred!” we exclaimed.

  “My little joke,” smiled Dr Sphinx. “I can find no record of his Egyptian name. He was in one of the lesser tombs I helped to uncover. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in very good condition and nobody seemed to want him, so I brought him home with me.”

  “Have you got all of him?” asked Sara.

  All of him? What was she on about?

  “His intestines, you mean?” Dr Sphinx said. “No. Many things were destroyed by tomb robbers, but his liver or lungs might still be in a jar somewhere, who knows?”

  Liver? Lungs? I looked at the old jars lying around.

  “Don’t worry. These ones are all empty,” smiled Dr Sphinx. “Just like Fred’s head.”

  “The brains are sliced up by sticking a hook up the nose,” nodded Sara. “Then the skull is washed out. I read all about it.”

  I told you she liked history.

  Surinder was really interested in the cats, who were now sitting completely still, apart from Diogenes. He had jumped out of Dr Sphinx’s arms and was pacing around.

  “Why have you got so many cats?” he asked. “And why is Dio – that orange one – so restless?”

  “Cats were considered gods in ancient Egypt, so they’re very important. And I like cats. But Diogenes, that’s the name I gave him, arrived here very recently. Someone just threw him into the long grass outside my house. Perhaps they didn’t want him, I don’t know. But it’s made him very frightened and upset. He’s a bit of a problem. Actually, they all are. I have to go back to Egypt unexpectedly. A new tomb has been discovered and my help is needed…”

  And, as if they knew they were being talked about, the cats formed a circle round Dr Sphinx. He stooped to tickle their ears, then they came over to us and let us stroke them, too. Inca even licked my hand. Only Diogenes stayed well away, still pacing, still fretful.

  Then I noticed the time. “I’m sorry… We must go now, Dr Sphinx, or we’ll be late for school. Thank you for showing us your mummy.”

  “Come again,” said Dr Sphinx and waved us off.

  “See you at school,” I called to Sara and Surinder, as we pedalled away.

  For the next two days it rained. Not just a light drizzle, but a skull-drumming downpour.

  Sara and Surinder didn’t come with me on my round. They hadn’t enjoyed getting up early and had come up with another plan to help me get to school on time.

  Head down, I pedalled through the rain, trying to make sure the papers stayed dry. Which was more than I was. Raindrops trickled down my neck, slid under my collar, then raced each other down my back.

  I must be mad doing this, I thought, wiping my eyes.

  But at least Dr Sphinx’s cats were being sensible. At number 36, I found some of them sheltering in the pyramid-shaped boxes, while others were tucked up inside the sarcophagus. They miaowed a greeting when I popped the paper in beside them, though Diogenes jumped up onto the edge and hissed, as usual.

  “Shush,” I told him. “I’m your friend, remember. And you’ll need some of those when Dr Sphinx goes back to Egypt. You can’t be left to look after yourselves.”

  I was still thinking about this when I handed my bag back to Mr Maini. As I was leaving the shop, I spotted something in the window. Something which gave me a brilliant idea. Sometimes I think I might be a genius. I often get brilliant ideas. But I had no time to do anything about it then.

  I headed for school, hung my dripping jacket in the cloakroom, and just managed to nip through the classroom door ahead of Miss Dodds. Thanks to Sara. She had stopped her in the corridor to ask all sorts of questions about ancient Egypt.

  “I’ll stop Miss Dodds tomorrow, if you’re late,” whispered Surinder, as I sat down. “I’ll bring in all my family’s Diwali photos to show her. There are hundreds of them.”

  Being asked intelligent questions by Sara had put Miss Dodds in a good mood. But someone was not. At football practice, Mr McGregor was grumpier than ever.

  “What are you using for brains today, Smith?” he yelled. “Keep your eye on the ball.”

  I did my best, but it wasn’t easy. Rain dripped off my hair into my eyes, and I slipped and slid all over the pitch. So did everyone else. It was a complete mud bath and, in the end, we had to abandon play.

  “Let’s just hope the other team play as badly as you lot on Saturday,” Mr McGregor muttered, as we trooped inside to get cleaned up. “I wish this rain would stop.”

  But it didn’t.

  It rained all night long and, at assembly next morning, it was announced that there would be no football practice. Worse still, at the end of the day, Mr McGregor came into the classroom with a face as thundery as the weather. “The inter-schools’ final has been cancelled,” he said. “Or at least postponed for a week.”

  “Oh no!” I whispered to Surinder. “That means a whole extra week that I have to be on time for school.”

  Then I remembered my brilliant idea. As I didn’t have to play football, at least I would have more time to work on that.

  Chapter Six

  What I had noticed in Mr Maini’s shop window was a row of postcards. Some offered things for sale, like washing machines or prams. Some offered services, like window cleaning or gardening. But the one which had caught my eye said:

  Bit chilly for a snake, I thought. And that’s when the idea had come to me. Maybe Dr Sphinx could find good homes for his cats while he was away.

  When I delivered his paper the next morning, I mentioned it to him.

  “That’s a great idea, Jonny,” he said. “Last time I had to go to Egypt, I put the cats in a cattery, but it made them very unhappy and they went off their food.”

  “I’ll ask the people on my round if they’ll help, and my dad knows a lot of people he can ask, too.”

  “Inca needs special care,” said Dr Sphinx. “And Diogenes will certainly be a problem.”

  “I’ve got someone in mind for Inca,” I smiled, an
d went next door to deliver the paper to Mr Tipp.

  I found him in his garden shed, in the middle of all the junk he uses for his inventions.

  “You’re early this morning, Jonny,” he smiled. “Is Miss Dodds cross with you again?”

  “Yes, but that’s not why.” And I told him about Dr Sphinx’s problem with the cats.

  “I just wondered,” I went on, “if you could look after Inca while he’s away. You would be able to fix her leg if the wheel came off.”

  “Of course,” said Mr Tipp. “Inca and I are old friends.”

  “Thanks, Mr Tipp,” I smiled. That was one cat sorted out.

  I jumped on my bike and pedalled off to number 13.

  Captain Cross-eyed opened his door as I went down the path.

  “Up with the lark this morning, Jonny,” he smiled. “Is Miss Dodds on the warpath again?”

  Funny how everyone knew about Miss Dodds!

  “Yes, but that’s not why I’m early,” I said, and repeated my story. “I know Tiger’s your favourite,” I added, “and I just wondered if you could look after him for a while.”

  “So long as he doesn’t disturb Scarface Jack when he’s snoozing, I think it would be all right,” smiled Captain Cross-eyed. “Tiger roams a lot anyway.”

  “Great,” I said. My idea was working.

  I managed to find homes for two more cats with Ursula Bend, the acrobat, who lived at number 19.

  “I just love the way they move,” she smiled. “And Dr Sphinx’s cats often come and watch me exercising.” Then she curled herself up into a ball, just like a cat.

  William Izzard at number 21 also said he would help. “The little black cat’s often in my garden,” he admitted.

  Then Mr and Mrs Woyka at number 23 agreed to look after one, too. “It can sit on my knee and keep me company while I’m listening to my music,” smiled Mrs Woyka. “Mr Woyka is always so busy with his clocks.”

  I delivered the rest of my papers and scooted off to school. I only just made it in time. As I passed Surinder in the corridor showing Miss Dodds the last of his Diwali photographs, I gave him a wink.

  But Miss Dodds saw the wink and was suspicious.

  “I hope you don’t think you can be late for school just because the football pitch is waterlogged, Jonny Smith,” she said.

  “Oh no,” I said wide-eyed, and hurried into the classroom.

  I told Sara what I’d been doing. “I’d love to help, Jonny,” she said, “but my little brother’s allergic to cat hair.”

  “I’m allergic to my sister,” grinned Surinder, sitting down behind me, “but I’ll ask my mum if we can have one.”

  I asked my mum, too, after school, but she shook her head. “Brutus is used to cats, but another cat would upset Noggin, as well as the goldfish,” she said.

  I knew she was right, but I was a bit disappointed, till my gran came to tea.

  “I’d be happy to take one,” she said. “Cats are good company and don’t need to be walked like a dog.”

  Then Dad said he would have a word with his friend, who works at the local care home. “The old people love it when folks bring their pets in for a visit. I’m sure they’d enjoy looking after a cat for a while.”

  Even Mr Maini, when I asked him to put up the postcard asking for good homes for the cats, offered to look after one.

  “I have heard some scrabblings in the night that might be mice,” he said. “A cat could be useful.”

  Things were turning out even better than I’d hoped, but there were still two more cats who needed homes. Then Mum persuaded the lady who ran the toddlers’ group to have one, which only left Diogenes. Now who could I find to look after him?

  As I got into class next day, just before Miss Dodds, a thought struck me.

  “I don’t suppose you like cats, Miss Dodds?”

  “Horrible smelly creatures,” she sniffed.

  I should have guessed. I’d just have to find someone else who did.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day was Saturday. The day I should have been playing in the inter-schools’ final. But, instead of dodging the opposing team, I was walking our dog and dodging the puddles. I was also wracking my brains trying to think of someone who might look after a problem cat.

  “Trouble is, it needs to be someone who understands them,” I told Brutus. “Diogenes is definitely difficult.”

  “Talking to yourself, laddie?” said a familiar voice behind me.

  I turned round. It was Mr McGregor, dressed in running vest and shorts.

  “Er, I was just telling Brutus about a problem cat that needs a home for a while,” I said.

  “Oh?” He slowed to walk beside me. “Who’s that then?”

  I told him the story.

  Mr McGregor looked thoughtful. “Maybe I could help you out. I love cats, but Diogenes might not like me. I’d have to meet him first.”

  “If you’ve got time, we could go to Weir Street and see Dr Sphinx and Diogenes right now.”

  “OK,” said Mr McGregor. “I can finish my run later.”

  He took Brutus’s lead. “Come on, boy,” he said. “Lift up those paws.”

  Mr McGregor set off at a cracking pace, and by the time we reached number 36, I was puffed out. “It’s good training for next week,” he laughed.

  I blew out my cheeks, opened the gate, and plunged into the shoulder-high grass. “It’s this way.”

  We hadn’t got very far when Tiger appeared. As soon as he saw Brutus, Tiger turned tail and fled, and we continued on our way towards the house.

  As usual, most of the cats were sheltering inside the sarcophagus, but there was no sign of Diogenes.

  “Perhaps he’s inside with Dr Sphinx,” I said, and tooted the horn.

  Dr Sphinx opened the door.

  “Hello, Dr Sphinx,” I said. “This is my football coach, Mr McGregor. He might be able to look after Diogenes for you while you’re away.”

  “But only if he likes me,” said Mr McGregor.

  “Of course. Come in and meet him,” said Dr Sphinx.

  He led the way down the long, narrow passageway and into the big room with the rubbish – sorry, ancient objects. The light was dim, and at first I couldn’t see Diogenes anywhere. Then I glimpsed the flick of an ear and a flash of green eyes from behind one of the bigger jars. The eyes blinked once then … ZIP … an orange streak launched itself through the air and landed on Mr McGregor’s chest.

  Mr McGregor staggered back, clutching Diogenes.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” gasped Dr Sphinx, and rushed to remove him.

  But there was no need. Mr McGregor wasn’t upset. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear. And Diogenes wasn’t upset, either. He was purring fit to burst.

  “This isn’t Diogenes,” laughed Mr McGregor. “This is Donald. And he’s not your cat, he’s mine!”

  What?

  “I was taking Donald to the vet,” explained Mr McGregor, “and had put his basket on the pavement while I sorted out a parking ticket, when some youths roared past on a motorbike and scooped him up. I got back into the car and gave chase, but they disappeared down an alleyway. I’ve been looking for him ever since.” He stroked the cat’s ginger head.

  “He’s clearly yours,” smiled Dr Sphinx. “I’ve never seen him so happy.”

  “And I’ll be happy to have him home,” said Mr McGregor.

  “Now I have good homes for all of my cats. Thanks to Jonny,” said Dr Sphinx.

  “Aye, he’s not a bad wee laddie.” Mr McGregor smiled at me, then, tucking Donald under his arm, he went off whistling.

  I was about to leave with Brutus, but Dr Sphinx told me to stay.

  “I have something for you, Jonny,” he said. “Something to say thank you for all your help in finding homes for my cats.” And he handed me a small, curiously shaped bit of pottery with a blue insect painted on it. “It’s an ancient Egyptian charm. Keep it in your pocket and it’ll bring you good luck.”

  “Thank
you,” I said. “Perhaps it’ll help me get to school on time in the morning.”

  But it didn’t. The following Monday, Miss King at number 57 kept me waiting for ages while she went to fetch a list of magazines she wanted to order from Mr Maini. So I was late again.

  “You’ve been warned countless times about being late, Jonny Smith. You will go and tell Mr McGregor you are banned from football practice,” said Miss Dodds.

  Oh no, I thought. There goes my place in the team and the final.

  I sighed deeply and headed for the gym. I knew Mr McGregor would be angry.

  But he wasn’t. “Leave it with me, laddie,” he said. “I’ll have a word with Miss Dodds.”

  And he did. I don’t know exactly what he said, but I think he must have still been really pleased to get Donald back, because I got to go to football practice after all. I had to do a punishment exercise at break instead, though.

  “So much for the good-luck charm,” I muttered to Sara and Surinder. “It obviously doesn’t work.” I took it out of my pocket and laid it on the desk.

  “This is a scarab-beetle amulet,” said Sara, picking it up. “The ancient Egyptians carried one with them at all times. I love things like that. If you don’t want it, I’ll buy it from you.”

  “OK,” I grinned. “I can put the cash towards my new bike.”

  Sara came round after school with the money and I popped it into the metal box where I keep my bike fund.

  I was just sliding the box back into its hiding place underneath my smelly sock pile when a thought struck me. Dr Sphinx had been right. I just hadn’t realised it. The ancient Egyptian amulet had brought me luck, after all.

  My new bike fund was growing nicely and soon I’d be able to buy the wheels I had my eye on. Unless, that is, something strange happened to make me lose my paper round. And, in Weird Street, how likely was that?