[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=b8860b]Reginald Keystone[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://kieranmcmullen.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/mummy1999.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=b8860b][b]Location:[/b][/color] Qasr El Nil Barracks --> Egyptian Museum
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	Wherever was Lady Munn indeed. This part of the day, one might have found her walking the floors of the Museum, taking new interest in old pieces (or the inscriptions thereon, anyway), or somewhere in Archives. Far be it for him to take the easy or obvious route, Lord Major Keystone instead tried to walk the route he thought his dearest Vera might be on that particular day. Like many men, he was confident that he didn't need to ask for directions in that particular instance; to his mind, "directions" took you to a place, at any rate, and did not specifically refer to the location of a [i]person[/i], the circumstances of which had the distinction of changing every so often. Less if that person were dead. Of course, in that case directions were a fair enough query to make. 

	But no, he was off to find that dear, sweet lady, the only one who he knew of that could possibly assist him with his somewhat unnerving dreams. Especially now that the pain he experienced somehow bled into his waking hours. This simply would not do. What also would not do was some local authority getting word of these strange symptoms back to London, where the sensible decision to make would be to lock him away like some spastic nutter, to say nothing about leaving the boys under his command to the direction of some stranger, for whom he had no say in their selection nor appointment to the position. 

	[color=b8860b]"My boys deserve better!"[/color] he intoned aloud, tapping the hilt of his sword with his fingernails. Of course, they very well might deserve better, but the higher motivating force (if he was honest with himself here) was that he absolutely did not want to be taken away from his station and thrown into a Mental Hospital. He'd seen some of the conditions at the one here in Cairo. Thank you, but no. It would also deprive him of the possibility of seeing a dramatic, nigh heroic end. Let's face it, isn't that the goal of any good career Officer? Of course it is. So long as one does not intentionally put others in harm's way that did not feel similarly about the rather messy concept of exiting the world in a manner that would make the next five editions of the City Periodical. [color=b8860b]"Ah, but a gentleman can dream..."[/color]

	So, she wasn't in the Archives. And Reginald didn't quite find her walking the Museum floors, either. With a sigh, he decided to check the one place she never seemed to be when he visited: Her office. 

	While making his way nearer to the room that he could have sworn she just maintained to boast to others that she did, indeed, [i]have[/i] an office, his grey-trimmed ears caught the sound of his dear, innocent Lady Munn calling a name with what sounded like distress. [color=b8860b]"No, no, no. This will not do [i]at all[/i]."[/color] He didn't know who this "Mr. Drake" chap was, but by Jove, he was about to learn who Lord Major Reginald I. Keystone was, and forthwith! 

	The Lord Major unsheathed his Officer's sabre and unsnapped the safety strap on his Webley revolver. Summoning every bit of proper Royal Military authority, he kicked open the already ajar door to Vera's office and bounded in like a portly, aging Galahad. Sword at the ready, he drew himself up to his full height, proclaiming in serious, vigorous tones, [color=b8860b]"Have at you then, you churlish rapscallion!"[/color] He looked to Vera, [color=b8860b]"I say, is this man causing you distress, Lady Munn?"[/color]