“It just doesn’t seem right somehow,” I said, “disregarding the last wishes of a human being.”

He shrugged. “It’s just a body, Agnes. Don’t let your imagination get the better of you. Though I fear those novels you are so fond of have made you afraid of the real world.”

I felt it unwise to point out that a horde of London’s wealthiest and most fashionable citizens preparing to pillage a centuries-old Egyptian mummy like a Christmas pudding was perhaps as far from the real world as I could imagine.