Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,330

policies with respect to her. Can you hold the line, please, while I put you on speaker phone?”

“Holy God,” breathed Jeremy, blinking and gaping like a fish.

“Professor Martin? The hearing officers would like to speak to you now.” Meagan turned and locked eyes with the Dean.

“I’ll be right there. Ask the Dean not to do anything until I arrive!” Jeremy slammed the telephone down on his desk and quickly exited his office, forgetting to close and lock the door behind him. He jogged out of the building and across Queen’s Park, pausing only to avoid being run over by downtown traffic. By the time he’d traversed the few blocks to where the hearing committee sat, he was winded, disheveled, and incredibly annoyed at how out of shape he was.

“Stop,” he panted, bursting through the doors. He placed his hands on his knees so he could attempt to catch his breath.

“Thank you for joining us, Professor Martin.” The Dean’s tone was sarcastic.

“I came—as fast—as I could. What’s—going on?”

The Dean gestured to his assistant to fetch the ailing professor a glass of water, which he drank gratefully. The beverage gave him a moment to find Gabriel, who was sitting stoically next to his lawyer.

The Dean frowned. “It appears that things are amiss in your department. Professor Emerson has just confessed to pursuing Miss Mitchell and engaging in an amorous relationship with her while she was his student. I’d like to know how long you’ve known about this.”

“Excuse me?” Jeremy grabbed a chair and sat on it heavily.

“You told us Professor Emerson disclosed his relationship with Miss Mitchell to you this semester, but that you couldn’t recall when. I’m wondering if you had any inkling that they were involved last semester?”

Jeremy’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I—what?”

“Gabriel Emerson tried to cover up his affair with his student by transferring her thesis supervision and seminar work to Katherine Picton,” Professor Mwangi explained. “What did you know about this and when?”

Jeremy’s expression grew grim. “With respect, am I on trial here or is Gabriel? I was told that you wanted to ask me questions about a matter arising between Gabriel and Miss Mitchell. I was offered no indication that I was under suspicion, otherwise I would have informed the Faculty Association and brought my union representative.”

Professor Mwangi abruptly closed his mouth.

“Jeremy, there’s no need to be defensive. We’re simply interested in whether or not you can shed any light on the account Professor Emerson has offered us. That’s all.” The Dean offered a withering look in Robert’s direction.

“We can return to the question of the timeline in a moment. I’m interested in an email that Miss Mitchell sent to Professor Emerson in which she accused him of harassment and told him that she would be returning the M. P. Emerson bursary. What can you tell us about that?”

Jeremy’s eyes slid over to Gabriel’s.

He had no idea why Gabriel had confessed; it didn’t make sense. He was far more likely to avoid any kind of discipline if he said nothing. Having confessed, he’d handed his career to the Dean in an act that could only be described as academic hara-kiri. Moreover, he’d implicated Jeremy with his confession, and that was something he did not appreciate, not one bit.

“I know of no such harassment. In my position as Chair of Italian Studies, I have a spotless record of upholding university policies.” He glanced in Meagan’s direction. “And I’d like my administrative record to be included as part of this proceeding.”

The Dean waved a hand at his assistant, acquiescing to Jeremy’s demand.

He looked at the hearing officers. “Has Miss Mitchell filed a harassment complaint?”

The hearing officers shook their heads.

“May I see the email?”

The Dean nodded to Meagan, and she quickly passed a piece of paper to Jeremy.

He used this opportunity to buy some time for his over-wrought brain, hoping to get some clue from Gabriel’s body language as to what the devil he’d been thinking. But still, Gabriel would not look at him, simply sitting stone-faced, clenching his fists.

“Since Miss Mitchell never reported the harassment, I can only infer that she changed her mind. Perhaps she sent the email in haste and repented at leisure. It sounds as if she didn’t hold his behavior against him.” Jeremy handed the paper back to Meagan.

“What do you know about the bursary?” asked Professor Chakravartty.

Jeremy’s eyes flitted to the Dean’s. “I advised the Dean in an email that donor services was approached by a philanthropic organization from the United States, whose