From the queen's chamber, we backtracked along the low passage to the grand gallery; a curious, sloped hall that gradually narrowed as it rose to a high ceiling, with two raised ramps set with periodic notches, either side its inclined floor.

At the lower section of the gallery, Howard lifted a cover  to show us the junction with the well shaft's upper end.

We then climbed onto the side ramps, to navigate around the gap leading towards the queen's chamber.

"It looks almost mechanical," I said, hopping down to the middle section of ramp, "Like being inside the works of the laundrodeon, though without the automata."

Murphy laughed quietly. "I shall never forget how you looked that day."

I'd been much too cross with him to be embarrassed, but I realized wet cotton was, well, wet cotton. I had probably looked as scandalous as Alpha had climbing out of the Thames. I shoved at Murphy's arm, but it only made him laugh again.

"It does rather look like a rack for a pinion or a sprocket chain," David said from an upper ramp.

"There are theories that the space was used as an observatory or statue gallery," Howard said, "Without star-charts or statuary, they are just theories."

"I wager the acoustics are fantastic," Thierry said. I was certain in that moment he would burst into song. Thierry spun around, threw back his head, and sang out: "Just a gigolo, everywhere I go, people know the part I'm playing."

What surprised me was Murphy jumping, throwing up his arms, and ululating. The sound of that reverberated all through the room. 

It seemed everyone held their breath until the sound stopped, as if afraid he'd brought the walls down. I released my breath in a gasp when Murphy suddenly threw his arms about me. His fingers slid down my left arm and took the lamp from me. His chest pressed against mine as he leaned to place the alabaster vessel on the ramp.

Murphy took my left hand. "Now put your other hand on my back and hold me close."

"With everyone watching?" I asked through my teeth, but I slid my right hand to the back of his waistcoat.

The shape of his eyes showed his smile. "I can dance backwards," Murphy said. "Just try to look like you are pushing me along."

"Alpha, dance with me," Prim called, dropping to the middle of the slope.

"No," Alpha said from the left ramp, "Prim. It's not the best idea." He made a beckoning gesture to Thierry, who leapt up onto the ramp with him. "If Thierry will sing for us, I'll clap."

"I'll do it," David said.

Prim offered his hand.

Thierry began to clap, to teach Alpha the tempo.

Murphy pressed a hand to my back and drew me after him in a circular movement. I shuffled, unsure of the steps but trying to move after him.

"Don't worry if our legs get tangled." Murphy's heel dragged the back of my trousers. "That's rather the point."

"Minerva have mercy!"

Thierry sang as Murphy drew me up and down the gallery: 

Just a gigolo, everywhere I go, people know the part I'm playing.

Paid for every dance, selling each romance, every night some heart betraying.

There will come a day, youth will pass away. Then, what will they say about me?

When the end comes, I know, they'll say, 'just a gigolo,' as life goes on without me.

"Now catch me," Murphy said.

We were already embracing, so I did not know what he meant until he dropped. I rushed to catch him in both arms. Murphy's eyes looked into mine. I didn't dare move.

"Lift," he said.

Though he was making himself dead weight, I heaved Murphy up. He fell against me. His hands stroked my face.

"Now, spin me toward Prim."

Murphy gave me his hand as if in a handshake between us. I extended my arm towards Prim, allowing  Murphy to spin to him.

Prim made a show of shoving David away to catch Murphy.

Obviously, they both knew this dance. Murphy and Prim circled each other, made staged caresses, and quick fancy kicks.

"They're quite good," David said, coming to my side.

Murphy lunged as Prim seemed to turn from him, as if begging Prim to stay. When Prim pivoted back towards Murphy, they embraced. They did a few turns. Then faces toward us, Prim made a show of grasping the edge of Murphy's kilt.

Murphy tapped Prim's cheek with his open hand.

"I think that is your cue, Julien," David whispered.

"No," I protested, but Murphy was hysterically playing a damsel about to swoon, with wrist to his brow.

I dragged my feet up the ramp and pointed a finger at Prim.

He grasped Murphy by the shoulders, shook him, then pushed him towards me.

I rushed up the slope and caught Murphy beneath his arms.

"You're perfect," he said, touching his brow to my shoulder.

"Mashallah," I whispered.

"You don't have to say that. You don't need to change."

I nodded, still feeling I had need to catch my breath, as it seemed Murphy did as well. He was yet close enough that I felt the shift in his body. I felt the movement of air over my bare neck.

I let Murphy rest against me as the others began to collect themselves and our various lamps. Thierry took the umbrella from one of the side ramps.

"Julien warned us you could sing," Alpha said to him, "but we'd never heard it."

"I play piano, too," Thierry admitted, head bowed as he answered Alpha; it seemed unlike him.

"Alpha sings, too," Prim said holding an oil lamp in each hand.

"A little," Alpha said, "only in Greek."

"And our Egyptian friends dance," Prim said, "but I hadn't realized Murphy knew the Tango."

Murphy straightened, but kept one arm about my shoulders. "Jean-Daniel and I used to take money for dances to buy togs and novels."

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Chapter 77!  Thanks everyone, for reading!

The audio media for this chapter is the song "Just a Gigolo",  this version by Leo Reisman from 1931. I originally was going to use a French version by Damia, but I had trouble locating audio/video that matched the lyrics coming up in searches. There are so many variations of this song, it's possible Damia recorded more than one version herself. 

The Tango was popular in Europe by the 1930s, and I figured if, in the alternate-history setting, some so-called Iberian Colonies in the Americas exist, then the Tango probably still exists.

I was uncertain what was going to happen in this chapter. I knew I wanted a 'vintage' 1930s song to inspire it and I did plan to address acoustics at some point. When I learned more about this song, it seemed perfect. I also was surprised that Murphy was so, "This is my jam!" but, when I think about his character and his only-somewhat-revealed experiences as a student in Paris, I do think his reaction makes a lot of sense.

So, there's a spontaneous dance number. It's staying.