There was silence for a moment, then a chuckle. It sounded like an appreciative chuckle. "Miss Hawkins, I am rightfully rebuked. You are a scholar, and there is nothing that shocks the mind of a scholar except censorship and falsehood. I confess that I was not aware that you were so widely read, and I commend you for your self-possession. You will find my research odd, then, but not shocking."
"Thank you," she said simply, glowing a little with pleasure at his words.
"I have, in the light of this, a new contract for you. You are evidently a lady of much stamina, and one who understands the need that drives the seeker of knowledge when the trail is hot. I had intended to ask you to read for a fixed number of hours in a day. I would like to change that-and ask you to read for as long in a day as I need you to. If you can put up with the whims of my research, and if you can bear with the fact that I shall need you for long and difficult hours, I shall see to it that you have all the resources you require to pursue your own goals of research, in addition to all else I promised you. In fact, I shall have all my recent book catalogs of rare and antique volumes sent to you for you to look through and make selections, and I shall have them purchased for you. Is that a bargain, scholar to scholar, equal to equal?"
If he had been Mephistopheles, he could not have offered her a bargain to tempt her more. If he had been able to read her mind, he would not have phrased it any differently. It was an offer she could not possibly reject. "It is a bargain, sir," she said, immediately. "And as I see you have had some books left here for me, I am prepared to begin reading immediately, to seal our agreement."
Was it her imagination, or did she sense elation on the other end of that long tube?
"Thank you," came the answer, "And-if you will forgive an impertinence, before you begin, I have a final question for you."
"You may ask," she replied, "but I will not guarantee to answer, if it is that impertinent." A bit bold, perhaps, but had he not just addressed her as equal to equal? Let him take what he had offered.
"Miss Hawkins-are you sentimentally attached to those garments you brought with you?" There was a plaintive, pained quality to his words that brought another laugh bubbling up out of her throat, which she suppressed only just in time. His poor, bruised sensibilities! It was the question of an aesthete confronted with an object of terrible banality stuck squarely in the middle of an otherwise matchless vista.
In other words-he really doesn't want to know that there is anything shabby trailing about in his beautiful home. Poor man! He's probably afraid that I'll disgrace him if anyone should see me! She giggled again. He's probably dreading the censure of that terribly superior secretary of his if he permits a dowd to stalk his exquisite halls.
"Mister Cameron, I am not," she said firmly. "Provided that I may keep these replacements that you have graciously provided for me, you may do with them what you will. Burn them, bury them, use them for cleaning rags; I will not be sorry to see them gone. They are inferior specimens of their type, have nothing of grace or charm to recommend them, and deserve an ignoble end. Frankly, I bought them because I had to, not because I wanted to. My taste, sir, is better than that."
Another sigh of relief. "Miss Cameron, once again you please and surprise me. If you would take up the first volume in the stack and begin at the place marked?"
The leather-bound book was without a title or any other identifying marks; the ribbon bookmark within fell at a new chapter. Somewhat to her surprise, it was hand-printed, in medieval French. Within a few words, she knew what it was, although such books had never been of interest to her. It was a treatise on alchemy, full of maunderings about "Red Lions" and "White Eagles," "male and female principles," and allusions to "Hermetic Mysteries." Despite obvious flaws in grammar and syntax, she read it precisely as it had been written, for these tomes were often encoded, and to correct what was there might render it indecipherable.
Alchemy! I wonder what his "researches" are? Not a search for the Philosopher's Stone, surely; any man as acquainted with science and rational thinking as a man in his position must surely know what nonsense such things are! Besides, he does not need a Philosopher's Stone to render him wealthy; he already has wealth in abundance. Then again-perhaps he was interested in the occult aspect of such things. He had suffered a terrible accident-would someone in his place not crave some supernatural remedy to his injury, since science could not supply one?
She came to the end of the section and was about to continue when Cameron spoke.
"No more," he said, sounding resigned. "I remembered that passage imperfectly; there is nothing there I can use. Pray, go on with the next volume. You will have to translate for me, if you would be so kind."
The second book confirmed her guess, as it was another treatise on an occult subject, this time printed in Gothic black-letter German, and of a more recent date. She read as she was accustomed to, given an unfamiliar text; when she encountered a phrase she did not immediately understand, she read it aloud in the original, then puzzled it through aurally. Cameron did not correct this habit; evidently he approved of it, for once or twice he suggested an alternative translation that made a great deal more sense in the context of the book-though not a great deal of sense in terms of the real world.
"The next section," she said, when she had finished the portion marked, "is entitled 'An den Seele'-if that is of any interest to you?"
She was beginning to enjoy her new duty, odd though the subject of her reading was. "Not particularly," was the response. "Pray continue with the next volume. May I say you have a particularly pleasant voice? This is proving to be as pleasurable as it is instructive."
"Thank you," she replied, surprising herself with a blush. By this time, the light outside had faded into dusk, although she had not thought it that late when she broke her fast. She must have slept far longer than she had thought. On the other hand, if these were Jason Cameron's preferred hours, she might as well get used to them now.
She was halfway through the stack of books when Cameron himself called a halt. She reckoned that she must have read at least a hundred pages in that time, perhaps more. Her throat was certainly getting dry, and she was conscious of increasing hunger.
"Your voice is a trifle hoarse; I detect that you are in need of a rest. Have you any notion what time it is?"
"Candidly, no," she admitted. "I am afraid I do not possess a watch, and there doesn't seem to be a clock in these rooms." It had not occurred to her before, but that was a rather odd omission.
But apparently it was an accidental one, for he made a sound of chagrin. "I do apologize; I shall remedy both conditions immediately." There was a sound of scraping, as if something heavy had been dragged across the floor. It did not come from overhead, but rather through the speaking-tube only, which told her that wherever Cameron's rooms were, they were not above her own. "It appears to be approximately nine o'clock," he said after a lengthy pause. "Would you prefer to dine in your rooms or in the dining room? There are no other guests, nor, since my accident, are there likely to be, but you may care for a change of scene."
The thought of sitting at a long, empty table was a bit daunting. She shivered just a little; she would feel precisely like a heroine in a haunted romance. "in my rooms, if you please," she told him. "In fact, if it is convenient, I should like to take all my meals here, except for the odd alfresco picnic lunch if the weather is fine. I am in the habit of taking long walks," she added, warningly. "Exercise is valuable for sharpening the mind."
If he was going to try to keep her penned up in here, he would surely object at this point. But he didn't. "Healthy mind, healthy body, hmm?" he said with amusement. "The Greeks would approve, and so do I. It is quite convenient, actually, and I am sure my servants would prefer the arrangement. Simply let my housekeeper know with a note if you intend such excursions, and there will be a luncheon made up and waiting at the front door. I shall also see that you have a rough map of the area. You don't by any chance ride, do you?"
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br /> "Actually, no," she admitted. "I was raised in Chicago and never had occasion to learn."
"What, so you are not perfect, after all?" he replied with a hint of mockery. "A pity; my horse could use another to exercise him besides Paul and the stableman. Well, you shall have to content yourself with enjoying my little wilderness afoot. I am afraid I cannot recommend my steed for the inexperienced; he requires a rider who knows what she is about. And for now-I suggest that you might stretch your limbs in exploring the house a bit while I have Paul organize a dinner for both of us, and remedy the shocking lack of timepieces in your rooms."
"Thank you, sir," she replied, getting to her feet a bit stiffly. "I believe I shall do precisely that."
Just at the moment she felt a decided aversion to encountering the so-superior secretary; on the whole, if she met him, she would rather it was on neutral ground rather than in her own rooms. Besides, this was an open invitation to be as inquisitive as she cared to, and devil if she wasn't going to take advantage of it!
For one thing, she rather thought she would like to try and puzzle out just where her employer was speaking from. It wasn't from overhead, and yet the voice coming from the speaking tube was strong and clear, so his own rooms could not be located too far away.
Directly beneath her, perhaps? That would be logical. It would also be reassuring. She really would rather that he were not above or to either side. Secret passages were one thing; peepholes, however, were ridiculously easy to contrive. He might be able to spy on her from any direction but below; even an occultist would have difficulty seeing through a thick Oriental rug laid down over carpet as the ones in her rooms were.
She left her door standing open, so that Paul du Mond would know that she was not in her rooms, and considered her direction.
Down the hall, I suppose. I might as well discover what is on this floor before I go on.
The hallway proved to be singularly devoid of entertainment. The doors leading from it all opened on suites as lushly appointed as her own, and all were unlocked. Each had a unique flavor or color-scheme; one was Chinese and a pale celadon in color, one East Indian and done up in gold and brown, one appeared to have a Russian theme, complete with icons and massive samovar and the scheme there was red and black. The remaining two suites were very nearly the twins to her own, save that one was decorated in stark green and silver, which she found rather cold and repellent, and one was decorated in Cameron's trademark red and gold, which she found uncomfortably lush. Living in the former would have felt like living underwater, living in the latter like living in a jewel-box. On the whole she was quite happy with the choice that had been made for her.
That disposed of this floor. Where Paul du Mond resided, she did not yet know, but at least there was no possibility of peepholes from either side.
Nor, it seemed, from above; the stairs upward terminated in a series of dark attics which she did not care to penetrate. So, that left below-and there were two floors to explore yet that she knew of.
The second floor was something of a disappointment, and yet it did tell her that this was, indeed, where Jason Cameron laired. Beyond the door on the landing was a kind of anteroom, decorated with black marble statuary in niches. Again the color scheme was red and gold, with three doors leading from it, one in each wall; all three were locked.
At least now I know where you are, Jason Cameron, she thought with satisfaction as she turned and descended the stairs to the first floor.
By the time she finished exploring that floor, she had the feeling she ought to be returning to her post, or she was likely to find a cold collation instead of a warm dinner. She was more than impressed by what she found on the first floor, which was much more extensive than the third floor would have indicated, as there were three single-storied wings off the main building. She guessed that there might be as much as twelve thousand square feet of floorspace here; she had been in museums that were smaller. Anything that a man of wealth and leisure could possibly have wished was in this house-from a grand ballroom and music room to a smoking room and billiard parlor. The library was enough to make her gasp and grow faint with envy and anticipation. She was doubly glad now that she had indicated a preference for taking her meals in her room; the dining room was echoingly huge, and decorated with the heads of trophy game animals. She was quite sure that she would have quickly developed indigestion with all those glassy eyes staring down at her while she ate.
There was also a conservatory and greenhouse, full of strange plants. That would be a pleasant place to sit or walk when the weather was uncooperative.
There was at least one lamp lit in every room except the ballroom and greenhouse; it must be the whole duty of one servant to see to them. It was a pity that this place was too far from the city to receive either gas or the electric main; she pitied the poor soul who went about cleaning, filling, lighting and extinguishing all those lamps.
On the whole, living here would be rather like living in a palace. She had heard that these western rail-barons had built themselves manors to rival the Medicis, and now she was certain this was nothing less than the truth. Why, the expense in lamp-oil alone must rival the total of all of the household bills of any normal household put together!
She hurried her steps as she turned back towards her own suite; the place was so empty it seemed haunted, and just at the moment she wanted the cozy walls of her own domain around her. Obviously Cameron did not ask the servants to keep his hours; they must all have retired for the night. Perhaps there was a separate building as servants' quarters. That might be where Paul du Mond resided.
When she entered her own rooms again, she heaved a sigh of relief, both because she had not encountered du Mond on the way, and because after the huge and lifeless rooms below, this suite seemed a very haven of warmth and welcome.
There were two additions immediately visible; a striking clock on the mantlepiece, between two silver candlesticks, and one of the domed serving-trays. She seated herself at her little table with alacrity as her stomach had the bad manners to growl, hoping that she had not tarried too long.
Either she had somehow missed du Mond and the servants by mere minutes, or Cameron's delving into alchemical processes had uncovered some arcane way of keeping food perfect and piping hot for hours. And perhaps he had divined that with a "masculine" mind her culinary preferences were "masculine" as well. This was no dainty lady's dinner of toast and lobster-salad; a savory and hearty platter of rare roast beef, new potatoes, and mixed grilled vegetables awaited her appetite, with caramel flan and a good red wine as accompaniments. There were also a pot of tea, sugar-bowl and a cream-pitcher waiting at the fire, presumably for the ease of her throat, later.
It occurred to her, as she finished her meal, that it was just as well that she was in the habit of taking hearty exercise. If she continued to eat like this without those long walks, she would soon resemble the plumply upholstered sofa!
Now would have been a pleasant time to settle in with a good history and read for leisure-but her duty called, and she would be reading in any case, though it was not what she would have chosen. She covered the remains of the meal with the domed lid and returned to her station.
But with the books, she found another new addition, so small she had initially overlooked it. There was a red Morocco leather box on the table, and when she opened it, she found a lady's chatelaine watch within, complete with neckchain. Both were unique, and clearly from a fine jeweler's stock; the yellow-gold case of the watch was inlaid in white- and rose-gold, in a lovely pattern of climbing roses; the chain was a triple-strand of braided rose-gold, yellow-gold, and white-gold. This was no "gold-filled bargain" from Sears, Roebuck; it was an expensive piece of fine jewelry.
For a moment, she was inclined to tell Cameron that she could not accept the gift-oh, why not? It wasn't inscribed with a sentiment; there was no note with it. For all I know, this is the kind of thing he gives his housekeeper for her birthday. Why balk at a trifle like a
watch, when he had already given her an entire new wardrobe?
She picked up the next book in the pile-the ones she had already read were gone-and spoke into the silence. "Mr. Cameron?"
"Miss Hawkins?" the answer came, promptly. "I trust you enjoyed your explorations."
"Very much so. Your home is-is stunning beyond words," she replied honestly. "I cannot imagine that anyone in this area has anything to rival it."
A chuckle. "Oh, there are other homes in San Francisco that are larger-but I flatter myself to think that mine is in better taste. You would not believe the incredible pile my partner Crocker has constructed. I hope you will forgive the watch-I know it is a bit ostentatious, but I happened to have it on hand and could not resist the play on your Christian name. If you would rather have something plainer I shall have to have Paul look further in the safe-but this does suit your new wardrobe, you will have to admit."
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