<strong>~Andrew, making is way to the Mummy Room~</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i47.photobucket.com/albums/f162/shadowjewel/Character%20pics/Andrewmini.jpg)</div>Glancing around the drawing-room, at the ladies and gentleman there, Andrew felt a little overwhelmed. He needed a smoke, something to calm his trembling at the very least. Perhaps a drop of scotch too, if he could hold the flask steady.<br/><br/>“E-excuse me. There is quite a lot to p-process here and since I have nothing constructive to add, I would like to step outside. Ladies.” He bowed slightly to the women in the room, then with a nod to the men, made for the door, the sensation of being watched prickling the back of his neck.<br/><br/>Stepping out into the corridor and closing the door behind him - it would not do to smoke in the presence of ladies! - he began to fish around in his pockets, muttering to himself.<br/><br/>“H-hiding, indeed! That was not hiding. Can a man not find a quiet place to work in peace?!<em>Damn it!</em>” The exclamation slipped from his lips unchecked as he dropped his silver and onyx cigarette case, a present from his youngest sister two years ago. Fumbling to pick it up he almost dropped it again but bit back the second curse.<br/><br/>Straightening, he pulled out a cigarette, put it between his lips before making a frustrated noise and went fishing in his pockets again for the lighter. Unable to just stand and loiter outside the drawing room, he took off down one of the corridors as he finally pulled out his lighter. After a few paces he gave up and stood still again so could actually light the blasted thing.<br/><br/>Sighing after taking his first deep lung-full of smoke, he tried to calm himself and think, still only a few paces away from the drawing room. This was, he thought as he struggled valiantly with his nerves and his fear, a golden opportunity to gather material and inspiration for his writing. He took a step further up the corridor and stopped again; He had no idea where he was going, there was a murderer somewhere in the house, and if he got himself into trouble over this he might never live it down. He started to turn back...<br/><br/>Only to stop four paces from the drawing room door. If he went back in there, then what? Sit in a corner with only his own limited imagination and the works of other minds to fuel it? And where would that get him?  What bleeding help would that be to<em>his</em>writing? The hand not holding the cigarette bunched into a fist. Taking another deep drag on the cigarette, the smoke billowing around his face as he exhaled it through his nose - oh! He would have to use that in a story! - Andrew turned smartly on his heal and took off down the corridor, through the confidence of his stride lessened considerably as the drawing room disappeared from view.<br/><br/>Walking down the corridor his eyes were wide as he looked around. When a bobby came out of a corridor ahead Andrew jumped, though thankfully the other man didn’t seem to notice.<br/><br/>It was a very nice house; good woodwork, beautiful tapestries, magnificent furniture and suitably creepy portraits; Andrew used to spend a lot of time hiding from a portrait of one of his great, great grandfathers back home and he still greatly disliked it now.<br/><br/>Wandering around, avoiding people when he could - still very uncertain about the situation - he came upon some stairs. By this point he was on to his second cigarette and had downed a good mouthful of scotch. The mummy was supposed to be upstairs, wasn’t it? Climbing the steps he wondered what it would look like; He had seen pictures of mummies, certainty, but he had found that a picture never truly capture the essence of a thing, merely gave a representation. He also hoped that these were the<em>right</em>stairs.<br/><br/>The corridor at the top was well decorated, though Andrew hardly paid that any mind as the lights flickered and he almost turned tail. His nose scrunched at the smell up here and for a moment he thought he might sneeze again but this only served reminded him of the throbbing pain on his brow and headache that had not completely dulled. From the far end of the corridor he could just make out a distant voice.<br/><br/><strong>“...an unlikely scenario, could be the broken window is just a red herring? Any comments?”</strong><br/><br/>The voice was vaguely familiar. One of the Gentleman from dinner? Andrew stepped forward towards to the end of the corridor and the door to the left. Perhaps this man could offer further enlightenment as to what the devil was going on.<br/><br/>Another man spoke,<strong>“It would appear so, good man. It is a shame that we were too late to stop this, not that I think we could have should we have been here to see it. Judging by the mess it made of that window, I consider the hurt it would have put upon us, if we had tried to stop such a thing.” </strong><br/><br/>Yes, he was familiar too. Was this the mummy room then? Had something been stolen? Some jewels or ornaments perhaps? Taking a last drag on the cigarette he stumped out the remains on a tray then considered taking another mouthful of scotch, but thought better of it; he never could hold his drink well.<br/><br/>As Andrew’s hand touched the door handle a dull thump sounded in the room beyond, like a body hitting the floor. Alarmed, he almost recoiled but his curiosity was beginning to push on him now. Besides, it could just be that one of the ladies had taken a turn for the worst. What kind of a man would he be, to run from that?!<br/><br/>Opening the door, his eyes widened; The broken window, the people that he did indeed recognise from dinner and collapsed on the floor...<br/><br/>“Jonny!”<br/><br/>Andrew rushed forward to kneel by the other man, relief at a familiar face drowned by concern over the state him.