The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [124]
‘I don’t know. Perhaps he is paying a social call. Some people do that, you know. Ah, Mr Wilson, how nice to see you. You know Mr O’Connell, I believe.’
Wilson nodded distantly at Kevin, who did not respond with even that minimal show of courtesy. He took a chair.
‘I stopped by to ask how you are feeling, after that dreadful business last night,’ he began. ‘And to inquire after the professor, who, I understand, was injured.’
‘That was kind of you. As you see, I am undamaged, and the professor is . . . The professor is well. I didn’t see you there, Mr Wilson.’
‘I was in the wings, so to speak,’ was the smiling reply.
‘Well, I am glad you weren’t hurt in the melee.’
Wilson raised his hand to his brow and brushed his hair back, displaying a purpling bruise.
‘I did encounter the priest – one of them. You see the result.’
I made noises expressive of regret and concern. Then Kevin, whose fidgeting had assumed the proportions of an epileptic attack, sprang to his feet. ‘It’s back to me job I must go,’ he announced, in the vilest brogue I had yet heard from him. ‘Wishing you good day, Mrs Emerson –’
‘No, sit down, Mr O’Connell. I assure you I have not forgotten you or your inquiry. Let us ask Mr Wilson if he knows anything, since he is a friend of Miss Minton’s.’
‘Something about Miss Minton?’ Wilson asked. ‘What is the trouble?’
‘She has disappeared,’ I said gravely. ‘At least I hope it is not as serious as that; but apparently no one has laid eyes on her since Friday.’
‘She is visiting the Dowager Duchess, her grandmother,’ said Wilson.
His calm infuriated Kevin. ‘Begorra, but she is not. The old lady hasn’t seen a hair of her, and neither has anyone else.’
Wilson stiffened. ‘I fancy she would not like casual acquaintances speculating on her whereabouts,’ he said coldly. ‘She has many friends; a wealthy young lady like that –’
‘Och, don’t be more of a fool than you can help, man,’ cried O’Connell. ‘I only found it out lately, but you, being such a particular friend of hers, must have known – she hasn’t a penny. The old Duchess is living on pride and pretence, keeping up appearances and subsisting on radishes and carrots she raises in the castle courtyard!’
Wilson was as surprised as I. His jaw dropped. ‘That – that is impossible,’ he sputtered. ‘She obtained her position on the Mirror –’
‘Through her own abilities.’ Kevin spat the words between his teeth. He appeared to be on the verge of striking young Wilson, but I knew – for I know the human heart – that his anger was directed against himself. ‘There was influence, surely, the old lady trading on past friendships, but, but . . . May the devil curse my tongue and may it wither and drop out for the things I said! She’s a poor wage earner, like meself, and where would she go – alone, with not a spare shilling in her little pockets, then . . .’
He shoved his clenched fists into his pockets and turned away.
Wilson had gone dead white. ‘But . . . if this is true . . .’
‘It’s true,’ said Kevin, without turning.
‘But . . . but Mr O’Connell is right . . . When one thinks of the dreadful things that can happen to a young woman like that . . . in this vile city . . .’
Dedicated student of human nature that I am, I had followed the dialogue with considerable interest. Poor Emerson, he would be so annoyed when he learned that the ‘cursed romantic interest’ he deplored was a feature of this case . . . Poor Emerson indeed. If he had gone where I suspected he had gone, he would have cause to rue the day.
But this was not the time to yield to those emotions; I had another little matter to settle first. Both young men appeared desperately distressed and I did not want to prolong their anguish any longer than was absolutely necessary. On the other hand, I did not want to make a dogmatic pronouncement when there was a possibility, however slight, that I might be mistaken.
‘I think I know where Miss Minton might be,’ I said.
Kevin whirled around. Wilson rose impetuously. In chorus they cried, ‘Where? What? Why –’
‘I said I thought