18 October 2023
Wednesday. Private investigators again. They come from Cairo, they say, though they have Manly sand on their shoes.
They are working for Mrs Smith. Without proof that the Doctor is dead, she cannot claim on his life insurance, and she has paid a deposit to anyone who can settle the question, or bring back Khufu’s treasure instead. Either will do, apparently. I have never seen a widow so even-handed.
I do not approve. The Doctor is not dead until he has filed a report saying so, and he has not filed a report on anything since 1903.
Still, they were a pleasant party: six of them, which is as many as the Manly study holds, and every one of them came together. Nobody is ever put in with strangers here. I would not allow it. One does not share a curse with people one has not been introduced to.
Humphrey sat on the investigators’ hats. I did not stop him. I am a secretary, not a referee.
— H. Plumb (Miss), Expedition Secretary
