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As soon as Stephen Holmboe crossed the threshold into the parlor, Jenny knew that she was
encountering a genuine English eccentric. Later she would learn that Stephen was in his mid-twenties, but
at that moment he appeared both older and younger. Part of this was due to his attire which was, even to
Jenny s American eye, at least fifteen years out of date. Men s fashions hadn t changed as dramatically
as had women s, which had gone from hoops to bustles, and from bonnets to dainty hats. However, it
had not remained stagnant.
Stephen Holmboe wore checked trousers with a matching loose-fitting jacket designed in the
high-buttoned style. His cravat was wide and flowing, matching the solid off-white of his shirt. In short, he
was quite the swell but a swell who would have been out of style even a decade before. Mr.
Holmboe s manner of dressing his brilliant golden blond hair continued this motif. It was longer than was
currently fashionable, as were his bushy side-whiskers and mustache. Curtseying to Mr. Holmboe s bow,
Jenny felt rather as if she were being introduced to an enormous ambulatory dandelion.
She might have been put off by this eccentric vision, but the blue gaze that met hers and darted quickly
away was both shy and sweet. Stephen s smile was kind, and his mannerisms closer to those of a boy of
fifteen than a young man of twenty-five. Within moments of their being introduced, it was evident to Jenny
that Stephen Holmboe possessed both energy and enthusiasm in abundance.
 Hullo, Sir Neville, he said.  Yes, I ll have a cup of tea. These ginger biscuits look smashing.
Stephen loaded one broad-palmed hand with sweets, took his cup in the other, and only afterwards
seemed to realize that seating himself without spilling something all over the carpet was going to prove
difficult. Jenny inclined her head toward a chair with an end table conveniently near.
 Perhaps there? she suggested.
Stephen grinned, managed to drop his cookies onto the table, and then set the tea cup down after.
 I certainly won t starve you, Stephen, Uncle Neville said tolerantly.  Cook has even supplied more
than sweets.
 Smashing! Stephen repeated.  Viands suitable for a king. I shall probably devour everything in sight
and then start on the upholstery. I think I forgot to eat today. Got absorbed in reading up for our
expedition. Lost track of time. Would have forgotten this except that you d dropped such ominous
hints and my sister dragged me out of my book.
Jenny helped herself to a small iced cake, more to cover her amusement than because she was very
hungry. Having expected another stiff and formal Englishman quite possibly one with a chip on his
shoulder, who would certainly disapprove of her she found this ebullient young man a relief. However,
she could understand why the conventional and conforming English might find Stephen annoying.
Neville dismissed the maid, settled a plate of dainties that he promptly ignored on the table near his
elbow, and became quite solemn.
 I do have some rather serious matters to confide in you both, he began.  Before I begin, I must impress
upon you how very important it is that none of this go any further than ourselves. I believe you will
understand why once I have finished, but I must have your word.
Stephen nodded crisply, boyishness vanished.
 You have my word, he said.  Not a peep to anyone.
 Mine, too, Uncle Neville. I ll swear on anything you d like.
 Your word is enough, Jenny, Neville replied,  as is Stephen s. If I didn t think you were trustworthy, I
wouldn t be confiding in you. However, I must warn you that this could be a dangerous secret to hold.
Neither of his listeners expressed any reluctance to hear, but still Neville paused for a long moment more
before going on.
 My story begins when I was still in active service in Egypt. My commanding officer called me to him and
told me I was being delegated to escort a visiting German archeologist, one Alphonse Liebermann, during
his travels into Upper Egypt.
Speaking tersely, yet sparing no detail, Sir Neville related how Alphonse Liebermann had been seeking
the lost burial complex of a pharaoh known to him only as Neferankhotep. He told about their journey up
the Nile, and about their arrival at the Hawk Rock. In less dispassionate tones, he related how on the
brink of their great discovery they had been assaulted by Bedouin tribesmen.
 We were forced to flee for our lives, Sir Neville concluded,  and without a great deal of luck and some
elaborate trickery we would not have escaped. The event soured Liebermann on searching for buried
tombs. We returned to Luxor and toured extensively before he returned home. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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