The Death Collector Read Online Free PDF Page B

leaned across Protheroe’s desk to unleash his wrath.
    By contrast, Protheroe seemed unimpressed. He was leaning back in his chair, turning gently to and fro as he waited for his superior to finish. The fact that hewas polishing his spectacles on a large white handkerchief made it even more apparent that he was not paying full attention.
    â€˜And not only can I see no reason for you needing a second assistant, I cannot even begin to think where the funding would come from. Do you think I’m made of money, man?’
    â€˜Evidently not,’ Protheroe said quietly, putting his glasses back on.
    â€˜In fact, I’m not entirely sure that you need Berry here, let alone another assistant. What are you doing that can possibly warrant such extravagance?’
    Protheroe leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. ‘If I may make two points,’ he said. Defoe made a sort of snorting sound which Protheroe took to be permission to continue. ‘First, I believe my Department is the least expensive of any in the Museum.’
    â€˜That’s because you don’t
do
anything!’ Defoe roared, standing upright and folding his arms.
    â€˜And second,’ Protheroe continued without reaction, ‘what we do, and why we do it, is none of your business.’ He paused just long enough for the parts of Defoe’s face that were visible behind his beard to become the same colour as that beard. ‘I mean that in the politest way of course.’
    â€˜A law unto yourself,’ Defoe spluttered.
    â€˜Not so. Just because you do not hold sway over my
    Department’s activities does not mean that no one does. As you well know, I answer to an inner committee of the Royal Society for what I do. Unfortunately, and I mean that in administrative terms, I rely on you and the Museum for funding to carry out that work. Funding that is generously given, but a less than generous amount. I now need to increase that amount to enable me to employ a second assistant to help Mr Berry.’
    â€˜As if I have nothing else to do with the money,’ Defoe said. But his voice was quieter now, and Protheroe sensed that he was making some headway at last. ‘It will take a while to find and allocate funding,’ Defoe went on after a pause. ‘If it is possible at all.’
    â€˜You’re very kind,’ Protheroe said smoothly.
    â€˜But then I suppose it will take you a while to find a suitable candidate for the job. Whatever the job entails.’
    â€˜Oh I don’t think so,’ Protheroe said. ‘In fact I have someone in mind. Since he already works here at the British Museum, it would be simply a matter of transferring him across to me. Together, I assume with his salary, though naturally we would want to increase that in line with his new duties. Whatever they may be.’
    Defoe spluttered at this, and from the few words that escaped the beard Protheroe got the impression that he was far from happy with the idea of his approaching members of the Museum’s staff and offering them alternative employment, even under the same roof.
    But before the splutters and exclamations could be resolved into a coherent argument, Protheroe stood up. His mass of white hair quivered as he leaned across his desk. ‘I have approached the gentleman’s superior and I may well ask you to expedite matters shortly if I don’t get a favourable and timely response. Now if you will excuse me,’ he said sternly to Defoe, ‘there is a matter that demands my attention.’
    On the desk in front of Sir William was a pile of books. Although they were neatly arranged, several of the books were badly burned. Sir William did not wait for Defoe to leave before picking up one of the diaries and starting to read.

    Jasper Mansfield, the curator who organised George’s time and directed his work, seemed surprised that George had turned up for work at all after the events