The Magus - John Fowles [277]
hesitated, then smiled. "It's just that he does want it kept secret. I thought you might have heard, but if you didn't meet him much... this remarkable find on his estate?" "Find?" "You know the house? It's some place on the other side of the island." "I know where it is." "Well, it seems part of a cliff fell away this summer and they've discovered what he believes to be the foundations of a Mycenean palace." "He'll never keep that quiet." "I'd guess not. But he thinks he can for a while. Apparently he's covered it up with loose dirt. Then this spring he's going to dig. But naturally right now he doesn't want everyone visiting all over." "Of course." "So I hope I won't be too bored." I saw Lily dressed as the snake goddess of Knossos; as Electra; as Clytemnestra; Dr. Vanessa Maxwell, the brilliant young archaeologist. "Doesn't sound as if you will." He finished his beer, and looked at his watch. "Jesus, I've got to run. I'm meeting Amanda at six." He shook my hand. "You don't know how much this has meant to me. And believe me, I'll write and let you know how it goes." "Do that. I'd very much like to know." I followed him down the stairs and watched his crewcut head. I began to understand why Conchis had picked him. If one had taken a million young collegeeducated Americans and distilled them down into one quintessential exemplar one would have arrived at something like Briggs. I did not like to think of the omnipenetrating Americans reaching to so private a European core. But I remembered his name; much more English than my own. And there was already Joe; the prosecuting Dr. Marcus. We came out on the front step. "No last words of wisdom?" "I don't think so. Just my very good wishes." "Well..." We shook hands again. "You'll be all right." "You really think so?" "Of course you'll find some of the experiences strange." "Oh sure. Don't think I'm not going with a wide open mind. And prepared for everything. Thanks to you." I gave him a long smile; I wanted him to remember it was a smile that had gone on too long and hadn't quite fitted in with the situation. He raised his hand and set off. After a few paces he looked at his watch, and began to run; and in my heart I lit a candle to Leverrier.
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She was ten minutes late; came quickly through the turnstiles, a polite small torment of apology on her face, and straight to where I had been standing next to the postcard counter. "Oh dear. I'm so sorry. The taxi crawled." I shook her outstretched hand. For a woman half a century old she was impressively good-looking; and she was dressed with an easy flair that made most of the dull afternoon visitors to the Victoria and Albert around us look even drabber than they really were; defiantly bareheaded, and in a pale grey-white Chanel suit that set off her tan and her clear eyes. "It's a mad place to meet. Do you mind?" "Not in the least." "I bought an eighteenth-century plate the other day. They're so good at identifying here." I took the basket she was carrying. "It won't take a moment." She evidently knew the museum well and led the way to the lifts. We had to wait. She smiled at me; the family smile; soliciting, I suspected, what I was still not prepared to give. Determined to tread delicately between her approval and my own dignity, I had a dozen things ready to say, but her breathless arrival, the sudden feeling I had that I was being fitted, inconveniently, into a busy day, made them all seem wrong. I said, "I saw John Briggs on Tuesday." "How interesting. I haven't met him." We might have been talking about the new curate. The lift came, and we stepped inside. "I told him everything I knew. All about Bourani and what to expect." "We thought you would. That is why we sent him to you." We were both smiling faintly; a cramped silence. "But I might have." "Yes." The lift stopped. We emerged into a gallery of furniture. "Yes. You might." - "Perhaps he was just a test." "A test wasn't necessary." "You're very sure." She gave me that same wide-eyed look she had had when she handed me the copy of Nevinson's letter. At the end of the