Doctor Who_ The Gunfighters - Donald Cotton [31]
And he had just arrived at this gloomy conclusion when his female dependants joined him, descending the stairs as women do at such times, both hands on the same rail, and assorted expressions of frozen horror on their chalk-white features.
Actresses do quite a lot of this, of course; but even amateurs can usually manage an approximation, when pushed; which Dodo and Kate considered they had been.
‘Are you responsible for that?’ demanded Kate, pointing to Seth’s mortal remains with a quivering, paste-bedizened forefinger.
‘Not any more,’ disclaimed Doc. ‘Rightly speakin’, he’s the concern of the mortician, as of now. I just washed my boots of him...’
Interesting enough, naturally; but Dodo had other, more urgent matters in mind. ‘Forget all that!’ she said.
‘Have you rescued Steven yet? Where is he?’
‘Well now, I’ll tell you how it is,’ he said, slowly, ‘if you’ll both kindly discontinue your well-meant whining.
As I see it, Miss Dodo, if your friend, Steven, is goin’ to be extracted from his unfortunate predicament, then steadier and more numerous hands than mine are called for; which, ideally speaking, should be backed up by the full majesty of rough justice; such as can be more suitably administered by Wyatt an’ Bat, whose responsibility such a recrudescence of blind blood lust rightly is.
‘They’re bound to notice what’s goin’ on, give ’em time; which time we are now goin’ to utilise by gettin’ the hell out of here; an’ installin’ ourselves’for the nonce in a nearby hide-away I know of.
‘So, Kate, you will now oblige me by bringin’ the buggy to the rear entrance – as has been your helpful habit on previous and similar occasions. An’ meanwhile, you, Miss Dodo, would help considerable if you would kindly button your flappin’ lip!’
‘But I must go to Steven and the Doctor!’ wailed Dodo.
‘They need me,’ she explained.
‘Cain’t think why they would,’ he said. ‘Time he’s facin’
his last reckonin’, a man don’t relish the jabberin’ o’
females. Leastways, such has been my frequent experience
– as I’ve often taken it on myself to inform Kate. So don’t argue – git!’
And toying meaningfully with a gun-butt, he shepherded his bleating little flock out of that place; and pretty soon they were raising the dust, safely installed in a Surrey – but with no immediate prospect of a binge on top.
They were headed for that unpopular resort and salt-spring spa – Purgatory Bend.
Doc had been right about Wyatt and Bat: they noticed what was going on in practically no time at all – and invited the Doctor to come and enjoy the view from the gaol-house window.
‘Now see what you’ve done?’ said Wyatt. ‘The Assyrians descend like the wolf on the fold!’
‘Do they?’ enquired the Doctor. ‘Oh, my goodness, so they do! But I refuse to accept any responsibility; I have done nothing whatever to encourage them!’
"Cept maybe ‘personate the meanest killer as ever made
’em look right foolish,’ agreed Bat, ‘an’ that’ll do it, every time.’
It was not, to be honest, a comfortable sight which advanced to claim their attention. The milling mob had squeezed the last drop of possible entertainment from the Holliday home, and was now swirling purposefully round the gaol-house, murmuring menace like bees at a barbeque
– or possums in a bakery, as Phineas might have put it.
There could, you’d have thought, be no mistaking their intentions; although, in fact, Eddie Foy, who was just leaving the stagedoor, did have the brief impression that they wanted his autograph. On second thoughts, however, he decided he’d best let his agent handle that kind of thing in future; and he went rapidly back inside, to smarten up the tricky bit in the second act. But I digress...
The Doctor presently noticed that the crowd carried Steven, trussed like a rupture, amongst them; and it soon became obvious that he was no willing participant in the proceedings.
‘You still in there, Holliday?’ called Ike, who had become the spokesman by general agreement.
Wyatt sighed. He’d been