newspaper readin'. Mrs. Jaggers'll flog you, sure as soot.'
'She'll flog me first,' Cook muttered.
'She can't flog th' young miss,' Nettie reflected. 'That'un belongs t' Miss Ardleigh.'
'Anyway, she's fam'ly,' Amelia said, resentful. 'She's not like us. She don't have t' do as told.'
'She wears wot she pleases, too,' Pocket said knowingly. He cast a glance at Cook to see if she had spied him putting three boiled eggs on his plate. 'The both o' us was sent t' Colchester this morning, an' she went in trousers!'
'Trousers!' Amelia and Harriet gasped in one voice, and Cook almost choked.
'Gawd's truth,' Pocket said solemnly, holding up one hand while the other deposited a boiled egg under his jersey. 'Short trousers, wot showed her ankle.'
'She better take care, is all I got t' say,' Mudd put in. 'Jaggers may not flog 'er, but she's got 'er ways. She's a mean'un, Jaggers is.'
'Yes,' Amelia said. Viciously, she stabbed the knife into the bread. 'That's wot Jenny used t' say. Mrs. Jaggers is a mean'un.'
Mudd's cup crashed into its saucer.
Cook cleared her throat, mercifully ignoring the second egg that Pocket was spiriting under his jersey. 'We don't talk 'bout Jenny,' she said. 'An' yer young ones, yer guard yer tongues. Ye don't know 'oo might be listenin'.'
A nervous silence fell upon the table.
18
'With the Divine permission I will apply myself to the Great Work, which is to purify ana exalt my Spiritual nature, that I may at length attain to oe more than human, and thus gradually raise and unite myself to my Higher and Divine Genius.'
On the morning following her excursion to the Colchester excavation, Kate went with Aunt Sabrina to the library, taking with her a pad and paper and her fountain pen. On the newly installed desk in an alcove by the window sat a gleaming black-and-gold Remington Standard typewriter, arrived the day before. Kate couldn't keep her eyes off it, imagining how speedily Beryl Bardwell would now be able to produce chapters of her story, for which she had a new title-'The Conspiracy of the Golden Scarab'-which reflected some important modifications she had decided to make in the plot. Aunt Sabrina sat down at her desk. 'Did you discover anything at Colchester?' she asked. Her tone was half-anticipatory, half-apprehensive, Kate thought.
'I discovered that Sir Archibald Fairfax doesn't permit women on the site of his archaeological excavations,' Kate said. 'I was summarily hauled into his field tent and instructed to leave the premises-in front of Sir Charles Sheridan, who was there, he told me, to discuss the murder.'
Aunt Sabrina frowned. 'The murder? Sir Charles remains interested in the murder?'
'Yes,' Kate said. 'He had earlier been to talk with Inspector Wainwright, of the Colchester police.'
Aunt Sabrina's face was intent. 'Has the identity of the dead man yet been determined?'
Kate shook her head. ' 'Unfortunately, no. After we left Mr. Fairfax, Sir Charles told me of the few clues he and the police have obtained.'
After being taken to the field tent yesterday, Kate had listened at length and with as much forbearance as she could summon to Sir Archibald's opinion of women, who were in some incomprehensible way, it seemed, as potentially devastating to historical inquiry as horses, water buffalo, and policemen. When the archaeologist had at last stopped shaking his turkey-red wattles at her, she had taken her leave. Sir Charles, who seemed startled by her sudden appearance at the door of the field tent and wryly amused by her walking costume, accompanied her to the spot where Pocket was waiting with the dog cart. On the way he told her what he had learned from his meeting with Inspector Wainwright.
'The police have recovered a knife tip that appears to be from the murder weapon,' Kate told her aunt, 'as well as a railway return ticket from London to Dover. In addition, Sir Charles has discovered that the victim appears to have driven to the excavation in a light carriage, iron-wheeled, drawn by a horse lame in the left hind foot. The victim walked unsteadily, probably assisted by a walking stick. And the scarab ring,' she added with a close look at her aunt, 'is inscribed.'
'Inscribed?' Aunt Sabrina asked quickly.
'Sir Charles copied the inscription, which appears to consist of hieroglyphics, and has asked an Egyptologist to decipher it.'
'I see,' Aunt Sabrina said. Her expression was unreadable. 'But the police have no suspect?'
'No,' Kate said. 'And according to Sir Charles, they may not discover any. He does not have a high opinion of their abilities.'
Aunt Sabrina straightened her shoulders. 'In the circumstances,' she said briskly, 'I believe we can conclude our inquiry into the matter, Kathryn.'
Kate frowned. 'But I haven't seen Sir Charles's photographs of the murder victim,' she objected. 'They may offer some clue-'
'They may indeed.' Aunt Sabrina's mouth was firm. 'But I must insist, Kathryn. I do not wish you to press the matter. Most particularly, I do not wish you to call attention to my interest in this affair. If Sir Charles happens to show you the photographs, that is one thing. But you must not press him for them.' She leaned forward, her look intent. 'Do you understand?'
'Yes, Aunt,' Kate said reluctantly, feeling a sharp disappointment. Her murder investigation, closed before it had scarcely been opened! But it wasn't just disappointment she felt. She was deeply curious. Why would Aunt Sabrina ask her to look into the murder and then force her withdrawal before anything definite was learned? What was Aunt Sabrina's interest in this matter?
'In any event,' Aunt Sabrina said, shifting some papers on her desk, 'we have other important things to command our attention. I would like to give you an introduction to the Order of the Golden Dawn, so that you will understand the work you will be asked to do.'' Her face tightened imperceptibly. 'But I must have your promise, Kathryn, that you will not reveal what I tell you. The business of our Order is quite secret, and the history is meant for initiates only.'
'Of course, Aunt Sabrina,' Kate said, pushing the murder investigation out of her mind and settling herself to take notes. She would reveal nothing she learned about the Golden Dawn. But that did not mean that Beryl Bardwell could not borrow an idea or two.
'The Golden Dawn,' Aunt Sabrina said, 'is a secret fraternity dedicated to exploring mysteries of the spirit through magical and occult practices.'
'I believe you said that it was recently established,' Kate said.
'Recently, yes, but on age-old authority. Seven years ago, Dr. William Westcott found, by accident, an ancient manuscript written in cipher.'
'How interesting,' Kate said. She sat forward in her chair. An ancient cipher document would be a marvelous plot device in her story.
Aunt Sabrina rose and went to the fireplace. 'After some effort, Dr. Westcott discovered the key to the cipher and transcribed the document, which revealed the outlines of an ancient occult order. Dr. Westcott was in a position to understand its significance, because he is a Freemason and a student of Western occultism, as well as a medical doctor of good reputation and coroner for North-East London.' With tongs, she took a lump of coal from a japanned black coal box and added it to the grate. The fire blazed into a shower of sparks. ' 'Dr. Westcott then asked MacGregor Mathers to expand the outlines and create a series of rituals.''
'This Mr. Mathers,' Kate said. 'He is the one you mentioned yesterday? The man who established the temple in Paris?'
