The Curious Case of the Werewolf by Gail Carriger Page A

question went red under Mr. Tarabotti's indifferent glance. He didn't bother with the monocle. She bobbed a trembling curtsy. Ladies always caught the blush-and-flutters upon meeting Alessandro Tarabotti.
    He bowed. "Miss Phinkerlington."
    "Leticia, you remember Sandy? Mr. Tarabotti, I should say. Italian chappy, went to Oxford with Eustace. Used to bowl for New College. Toddled down for a stopover one term break. The same time Daddy had himself that whole werewolf pack visiting." He turned back to Mr. Tarabotti. "Fancy meeting you here. In Egypt of all places!"
    "Indeed." Alessandro tried to remember why he would bother visiting this man's family. Had it been an assignment? Investigating the werewolves? Or had he been there to kill someone? Perhaps just a mild maiming?
    Baronet Phinkerlington leaned in conspiratorially. "You ought to see to your man there, Sandy. You realize, he's got his arm ‘round a jam jar of dead cat?"
    "Mmm, yes, preserved in some of my best formaldehyde."
    The baronet gave a nervous laugh. "Always were a bit peculiar, Sandy. Eustace seemed to like you well enough. I say, this may be Egypt, but trailing about dead cats – not the done thing."
    "I have an eccentric Aunt," replied Mr. Tarabotti, as though that were explanation enough.
    "Don't we all, my dear fellow? Don't we all?"
    "It's her cat. Or it was her cat, I should say."
    Miss Phinkerlington noticed the valet with the glass jar full of cat for the first time. She colored a muted sage and turned away, pretending interest in the bustling natives ebbing and flowing around them. A proper Englishwoman must find it a spectacle indeed, that tide of humanity in its multicolored robes, veiled or turbaned according to sex, loud and malodorous regardless.
    "Floote," Alessandro used Miss Phinkerlington's discomfort as an excuse, "shove off, will you? Find out what happened to our young friend. I'll see you back at the hotel."
    Floote nodded and disappeared across the bazaar, cat in tow.
    Baronet Phinkerlington seemed to take that as an end to the business. "Well, well, well, what a thing to see you here. Been a while, old chap. Came for the climate, myself. Wettest winter in a dog's age, decided on a bit of a change. Thought Egypt might suit."
    "Imagine England having a wet winter, remarkable."
    "Yes, yes, well, Egypt, here, a bit, eh, warmer, you understand, than I was expecting. But we've been taking the aether regular-like. Haven't we, Leticia? Keeps a body cool, that." The baronet jerked his head up at the three large balloons hovering high above Luxor. They were tethered by long cords to a landing platform dockside. Well, that explained the man's abysmal choice in eyewear. Tinted spectacles were recommended for high floating.
    The Baronet persisted in his social niceties. "And are you having an agreeable trip?"
    "Can't stand travel," replied Mr. Tarabotti, "bad for the digestion and ruins one's clothes."
    "Too true." Phinkerlington looked suitably somber. "Too true." Moving hurriedly on from a clearly distasteful topic, he asked, "Staying at Chumley's Inn, are you, Sandy?"
    Alessandro nodded. It was the only place to stay in Luxor. Alexandria and Cairo provided a number of respectable hotels, but Luxor was still provincial. For example, it boasted a mere three balloons, and only one with a propeller. It was a small village, really, in an almost forgotten place, of interest primarily to those with an eye towards treasure hunting. Which didn't explain why Phinkerlington and his sister were in Luxor. Nor, of course, why Alessandro Tarabotti was.
    "Catch a bit of a nosh later tonight, old man?"
    Alessandro decided it was probably better for his image to be seen dining in the company of British tourists, than to be observed too frequently about his own private business. "Certainly. But now, I'm afraid, I must beg to be excused. My man, you understand, is gadding about Egypt with a dead cat."
    "Of course, of course."
    Mr. Tarabotti bowed to Miss