The Ape Who Guards the Balance (6 page)

It was our favorite apartment in that large, pretentious mansion. Rows of books in mellow leather bindings lined the walls, and Evelyn had replaced the ornate Empire furniture with comfortable chairs and sofas. A cozy fire burned on the hearth and the lamps had been lit. Gargery drew the heavy velvet curtains and then sidled off to a corner of the room where, with our tactful cooperation, he pretended to be invisible. I would have invited him to sit down and listen in comfort had I not known he would be shocked at the idea.

I had a few questions of my own. Conversation had been impossible during the return drive; Emerson kept shouting directions and suggestions at Ramses, who ignored them as coolly as he ignored my complaints that he was driving too fast.

Now Ramses said, “I also found it difficult to believe that Mrs. Pankhurst would proffer such an invitation, and at such short notice. However, we might not have acted on such doubtful grounds had not Aunt Evelyn showed me the letter. A single glance informed me that it had been typewritten on the same machine as the one Sethos had used.”

The only thing I dislike more than being lectured on Egyptology by Ramses is being lectured on detection by Ramses. However, a rational individual does not allow childish pique to interfere with the acquisition of knowledge.

“How?” I asked.

“Individual letters may become worn or scratched or cracked,” Ramses explained. “These flaws, however minute, are reproduced on the paper when the key strikes it.”

“Yes, I see.” I promised myself I would have a close look at one of the confounded machines. One must keep up with modern advances. “So you could identify the machine that wrote that letter?”

“If I could find it. That is of course the difficulty.”

“A difficulty indeed, since you have not the slightest idea where to begin looking for it.”

“What difference does it make?” Evelyn demanded. “You have brought her back safe. Thank heaven you were in time!”

“There was ample time,” said Emerson, who is disinclined to give heaven any credit whatever. “We went straight to Mrs. Pankhurst’s rooms in Clement’s Inn and learned, as we had expected, that she had sent no message. David wanted to go haring off to look for you, my dear, but I persuaded him of the folly of that.”

“Yes, I know how impetuous David can be,” I said, smiling at the young man. It had been Emerson, of course, who had wanted to drive furiously around London in a futile search for me.

“We had no choice but to wait for you near the designated rendezvous,” Ramses said. “We had been waiting for a quarter of an hour at least before you came, Mother, and were, I assure you, on the qui vive, but we failed to recognize the significance of the entangled vehicles. It is a common-enough occurrence. I do not doubt that on this occasion it was deliberately engineered, and that the drivers of the coster’s cart and the cab were Sethos’s confederates, as were the individuals in the railway van. The operation was very neatly planned and executed. They might have got you away if Father had not leaped instantly from the motorcar and forced a path through the crowd.”

Nefret, who was curled up in a corner of the divan, laughed. “I would like to have seen that. How many bicyclists did you trample underfoot, Professor darling?”

“One or two,” Emerson said calmly. “And I seem to recall climbing over a cart filled with some vegetable substance. Potatoes, perhaps?”

“Something squashier,” I said, unable to repress a smile. “I hope Bob can get those boots clean. You had better go up and change.”

“You too,” said Emerson, his brilliant blue eyes intent on my face.

“Yes, my dear.”

Drawing my arm through his, Emerson led me out.

I assumed, naturally, that he was impatient to express his relief at my deliverance in his usual affectionate manner. On this occasion I was in error. He assisted me with buttons and boots, as he usually did; but once my outer garment had been removed, he turned me round and inspected me more in the manner of a physician than an impatient spouse.

“You look as if you had been over Victoria Falls in a barrel,” he remarked.

“It looks worse than it feels,” I assured him, not entirely truthfully, for the assorted bruises were stiffening and my shoulder ached like fury. I must have landed on it when the rascal tossed me into the van.

Emerson ran his long fingers through my hair and then took me gently by the chin and tilted my face up to the light. “There is a bruise on your jaw and a lump on the back of your head. Did he strike you on the face, Peabody?”

Not one whit deceived by the unnatural calm of his voice, I strove to reassure him. “I can’t remember, Emerson. It was quite exciting while it lasted, you see. I fought back, of course—”

“Of course. Well, I have seen you in worse condition, but I am going to put you to bed, Peabody, and send for a doctor.”

I had no intention of submitting to this, but after some spirited discussion I agreed to let Nefret have a look at me. The look of shock on her face told me I must present rather a horrid spectacle, so I let her tend to me, which she did as gently and skillfully as a trained physician.

“There are no broken bones,” she announced at last. “But the brute handled you very roughly.”

“I was fighting back,” I explained.

“Of course.” She smiled affectionately. “She’ll be stiff and sore for a few days, Professor; I know you will make sure she doesn’t overdo.”

Emerson was more than pleased to assist me with buttons and ribbons. He insisted on putting on my slippers for me, and as he knelt at my feet he presented such a touching picture of manly devotion that I could not resist brushing the thick black locks from his brow and pressing my lips to it. One thing led to another, and we were a trifle late going down for dinner.

The children were in excellent spirits, particularly Lia, who could talk of nothing but our forthcoming voyage. I was amused to note that she was wearing one of Nefret’s embroidered robes and that she had arranged her hair in the same style as Nefret’s. It did not become her quite as well, but she looked very pretty, her cheeks pink with excitement and her eyes sparkling. The boys teased her a bit, warning her of snakes and mice and scorpions, and promising to defend her from those terrors.

They were so merry together that I did not notice at first that the child’s parents were silent and ill at ease. My brother-in-law is a man I truly esteem: a loving husband and father, a loyal brother, and a scholar of exceptional ability. He is not very good at hiding his feelings, however, and I could tell something was bothering him. My dear Evelyn’s troubled gaze kept moving from her daughter to me and back again.

They waited until after we had retired to the library for coffee before they broke the news. Walter began by informing Emerson that he had taken the liberty of reporting the incident to the police.

“What incident?” Emerson demanded. “Oh. What did you do that for?”

“Upon my word, Radcliffe, you take this very coolly!” Walter exclaimed. “A brutal attack on your wife—”

Emerson slammed his cup into the saucer. Not much coffee was spilled, since he had drunk most of it, but I heard a distinct crack. “Curse you, Walter, how dare you suggest I am indifferent to my wife’s safety? I will deal with Sethos myself. The police are of no damn—er—confounded use anyhow.”

I will summarize the discussion, which became somewhat heated. Emerson does not like to have his judgment questioned, and Walter was in an unusual state of excitability. It culminated as I had begun to fear it would, with Walter’s announcement that he could not allow Lia to accompany us that year.

Everyone began talking at once, and Gargery, who had been shaking with indignation ever since Walter accused Emerson of negligence, dropped one of my best demitasse cups. Finding her father adamant, Lia burst into tears and fled from the room, followed by Nefret. I sent Gargery away, since he was wreaking havoc with the Spode, and persuaded Evelyn that she had better go to her daughter. She gave me an appealing look, to which I responded with a smile and a nod; for indeed I understood the dear woman’s dilemma. She would have risked her own safety to defend me from danger, but the safety of her child was another matter.

Not that I believed there was danger to me or anyone else. I managed to express this opinion once I had got the men to stop shouting at one another. My arguments were sensible and ought to have prevailed, but I found to my annoyance that he who ought to have been my strongest supporter had turned against me.

“Yes, well, I understand your viewpoint, Walter,” Emerson said, with the affability that usually succeeds his fits of temper. “The child would not be in the slightest danger if she were with me—what did you say, Ramses?”

“I said ‘with us,’ Father. I beg your pardon for interrupting you, but I felt obliged to emphasize my willingness, and that of David, to lay down our lives if necessary—”

“Don’t be so confounded melodramatic,” Emerson snarled. “As I was saying, little Amelia would be perfectly safe with us, but perhaps this is for the best. I have decided to leave for Egypt as soon as possible. We will return to Kent tomorrow, pack our gear, and sail at the end of the week.”

“Impossible, Emerson,” I exclaimed. “I have not finished my shopping, and you have not finished your book, and—”

“The devil take your shopping, Peabody,” Emerson said, with an affectionate look at me. “And the book as well. My dear, I intend to get you out of this bloody damned city at once. There are too many damned people here, including one of the bloodiest. If Sethos follows us to Egypt, so much the worse for him. Now come to bed. I want to get an early start.”

Walter and Evelyn departed next morning with their unhappy child, leaving Mrs. Watson, their excellent housekeeper, in charge of shutting up the house and putting the servants on board wages. I expected Emerson would insist on driving the motorcar back to Kent, but to my surprise he gave in with scarcely a grumble when I said I preferred the comfort of the train. He ordered Ramses not to drive faster than ten miles per hour and presented Nefret with a preposterous motoring mask. Where he had found it, I cannot imagine. The tinted goggles were set in a frame of leather lined with silk, and it made her look like an apprehensive beetle.

            
(ii)
    
From Manuscript H

“Take it off,” Ramses said. “We’re out of sight now.”

Nefret, beside him in the front seat, gestured wildly. He couldn’t decide whether the muffled noises that emerged from the narrow slit over her mouth were laughter, or an attempt at a reply, or the gasps of a woman who was unable to breathe. “Get it off her, David,” he ordered in alarm.

David, who was in the tonneau, tugged at the straps until they gave way. There was no doubt about the nature of the noises he was making, and as soon as the hideous accoutrement came away from her face, Nefret joined him.

“Bless the dear man,” she gasped, as soon as her laughter was under control. Her loosened hair blew around her face until she captured and hid it under a close-fitting bonnet.

Upon occasion—egged on by Nefret—Ramses had got the Daimler up to fifty miles per hour. Such speed was unachievable in the crowded city streets, but still the traffic noises made conversation impossible until they stopped for tea in a village on the outskirts of the city. Nefret made both of them try on the mask—to the amusement of the other customers—and then they got down to business. It was the first chance they had had for a private conference since the previous day.

“The situation has become serious,” Nefret announced.

“Good Gad,” said Ramses. “Do you really think so?”

“Ramses,” David murmured.

“Oh, I don’t mind him,” Nefret said. “He’s just trying to be frightfully, frightfully blasé. You were wrong, weren’t you, dear boy? Sethos may not have known Aunt Amelia would be at the meeting, but we have not seen the last of him. He’s after her again!”

She bit into a scone.

“It would appear that that is the case,” Ramses admitted. “What I fail to understand is what prompted this renewed interest. It’s been years since we heard from or about him. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?” David asked intently.

“Unless
she
has heard from him in the meantime. She wouldn’t be likely to tell us about it.”

“She never tells us anything,” Nefret said indignantly.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Why don’t you? It’s those eyes of hers,” Nefret muttered theatrically, rolling her own. “That stormy gray shade is alarming even when she’s in a pleasant mood, and when she’s angry they look like—like polished steel balls.” She gave an exaggerated shudder.

“It isn’t funny,” David said.

“No,” Nefret agreed. “You didn’t see the poor darling last night; she was covered with bruises. If the Professor gets his hands on Sethos he’ll tear him to pieces, and I wouldn’t mind joining in.”

“Father has taken the necessary precautions,” Ramses said. “Getting her out of London and away from England as soon as is possible.”

“That’s not enough,” Nefret declared. “What if he follows her to Egypt?”

“He isn’t likely to.”

“So you say. What if he does? We need to know how to protect her! If she won’t give us the necessary information, we must ferret it out! Well, Ramses?”

Ramses smiled ruefully. “Confound it, Nefret, I do wish you wouldn’t read my mind. It’s nothing to do with Sethos. I was thinking of something else. Did you know Mother once made a list of all the people who held a grudge against her and Father? There were fifteen names on it, and that was several years ago.”

“Fifteen people who have wanted to murder her?” Nefret grinned. “How typical of her to make a neat, methodical list! Did she show it to you?”

“Not exactly.”

Nefret chuckled. “Good for you, Ramses. I know, it’s not
nice
to pry, but what other choice have we? Who were these people?”

Ramses prided himself on his memory, which he had cultivated (along with less acceptable skills) by hours of practice. He reeled off a list of names.