The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [20]
For a moment I could think of nothing to say. The proposal was so unexpected, the ramifications so complex, I struggled to take them in. “Well,” I said, on a long breath. “The proposal is so unexpected I can think of nothing to say.”
I fully anticipated Emerson would make some sarcastic remark about my loquacity, but he did not rise to the bait. “Unexpected, perhaps, but I hope not unwelcome. You never complain, my dear, but the tasks you have faced each year would daunt a lesser woman. It is time you had help—companionship—assistance.”
“Of the female variety, I suppose you mean? A secretary would certainly be useful—”
“Come, Peabody, I had not expected you to be so narrow-minded. We could certainly use someone to keep the records straight, but why need that individual be female? And why not women students, excavators and scholars?”
“Why not indeed?” He had touched a tender chord; the advancement of my underrated sex has always been of deep importance to me. After all, I reflected, I had never counted on more than one year of solitary happiness. I had not even counted on that. Let me enjoy it now and not think of the depressing future. “Emerson, I have said it before and I will continue to say it: you are the most remarkable of men.”
“As you have also said, you would have accepted nothing less.” Emerson grinned at me.
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Nefret and Ramses, of course.”
“Of course.”
“The girl has demonstrated both interest and aptitude,” Emerson went on. “I am also in hopes of inducing Evelyn and Walter to come out with us, once we have established a permanent base. There is a young woman named Murray at University College, a student of Griffith, who shows great promise… That is one of the things I hope to do this season, Peabody, interview potential staff members.”
“Then,” I said, rising, “I suggest we begin by dining downstairs.”
“Why the devil should we? Ali’s, in the bazaar, has better food—”
“But some of our colleagues are certain to be dining at Shepheard’s. We can consult them about their more promising students.”
Emerson studied me suspiciously. “You always have some excuse for forcing me into activities I detest. How do you know there will be any Egyptologists here tonight? You invited them, didn’t you? Curse it, Peabody—”
“I found messages from friends awaiting us, as is always the case. Come along now. It is getting late and you will want to bathe and change.”
“I won’t want to, but I suppose I must,” Emerson grumbled.
He began undressing as he stamped across the room, tossing collar, shirt and cravat in the general direction of the sofa. They fell on the floor. I was about to expostulate when Emerson came to a sudden stop and gestured emphatically at me to do the same. Head tilted, ears almost visibly pricked, he listened for a moment, and then, with the catlike quickness he could summon when he felt it expedient, he lunged at the door and flung it open. The corridor was dark, but I made out a huddled form crouched or collapsed on the floor. Emerson seized it in a bruising grip and dragged it into the room.
CHAPTER 3
“A woman’s instinct, I always feel, supersedes logic.”
FOR heaven’s sake, Emerson,” I exclaimed. “It is Mr. Neville. Drop him at once!” Emerson inspected his captive, whom he held by the collar. “So it is,” he said in mild surprise. “What the devil were you doing down on the floor, Neville?”
The unfortunate young man inserted a finger between his cravat and his neck, loosening the former from the latter, before he spoke. “Er … the gaslight in the corridor must have expired; it was extremely dark, and I could not be certain I had found the correct room. When I tried to