The Dig by John Preston Read Free Book Online Page A

progress here has been limited. And we felt that this might be a good moment to recall him, as it were.”
    “Surely that is up to Mr. Brown? You would need to speak to him.”
    “We have spoken to him,” interjected Maynard.
    Reid Moir turned to Maynard. He remained staring at him until Maynard changed color, then he turned back to me.
    “We did happen to have a quick word with him before we came here,” he acknowledged.
    “And what did he say?”
    “Brown is a very uncomplicated man,” said Reid Moir. “He sees the world in starkly black and white terms. That, of course, is one of his great virtues. His attitude is that, as you are paying his wages, his allegiance is to you.”
    “But you do not see it that way, Mr. Reid Moir?”
    “I too am an uncomplicated man, Mrs. Pretty — in my way. My only interest is the welfare of the museum. As I say, the excavation at Stanton is an important one. If successful, and we have, I believe, ample grounds for optimism, it might considerably increase our understanding of the entire Roman occupation of Suffolk. In the light of current events, one has to balance that against a more, you will forgive me for being frank, minor venture. One that, while fascinating in many respects, has so far failed to yield anything of significance.”
    Possibly lack of sleep had made me irritable, possibly not. “Let me make sure I understand you clearly, Mr. Reid Moir,”I said. “You are suggesting that Mr. Brown should leave my employ forthwith and resume working for you at Stanton.”
    “Not for me, Mrs. Pretty,” said Reid Moir with an indulgent laugh. “For the museum. Always the museum …”
    “Do forgive me.”
    He gave an absolving tip of the head.
    “I am aware that the excavation here must strike you as a very silly, even an indulgent affair,” I said.
    Reid Moir started to speak, but evidently thought better of it.
    “I do hope, though, that you will be able to humor me a little,” I went on. “After all, I have been an enthusiastic and, I trust, helpful patron of the museum in the past.”
    “Indeed you have, Mrs. Pretty. Indeed …”
    “Perhaps, therefore, I might presume on your goodwill for a little longer.”
    He remained quite still, with one stationary foot arched upwards.
    “How much longer did you have in mind, Mrs. Pretty?” he asked.
    Looking through the window, I saw that it had begun to rain. The rain clattered on the ivy leaves outside and kicked up little spouts of mud in the flower beds.
    “I would like Mr. Brown to excavate one more mound for me. Then, when he has finished doing so, he will be free to go back to Stanton.”
    “One more mound?” said Reid Moir, his voice a little less lacquered than before. “You mean, another one entirely?”
    “That is correct.”
    “But that could take — goodness — another three weeks. Perhaps even longer if this weather doesn’t clear. While I naturally do not want you to feel under pressure, Mrs. Pretty, I must point out that any protracted delay might jeopardize a potentially important find. The site at Stanton could well prove to be the largest Roman villa north of Felixstowe.”
    We gazed at one another. “Perhaps I have not made myself clear,” I said. “I would like Mr. Brown to excavate one more mound.”
    Reid Moir stared back at me. His gaze was direct, his foot still carefully crooked. Even with the door closed, I could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.
    “However, I do not wish to be unreasonable,” I went on. “If Mr. Brown has not found anything by the end of next week, say, then I shall release him to do your bidding.”
    This time he barely hesitated. “By the end of next week … The end of the month, as it happens. Very well, then.”
    “I am grateful for your indulgence, Mr. Reid Moir,” I said. “Now, was there anything else you wished to talk about?”
    “As a matter of fact there was.” He held out the book he had with him. “I thought you might care