The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [139]
‘My dear,’ I began.
‘You are not what I would call a humble woman, Peabody, but you are singularly obtuse about some things. Think it through. I was already down – dead, for all she knew. Upon whom would that murderous weapon have turned next, Peabody? He came there to kill you, and she knew it. She took the risk of warning you, and at the end she fought to the death, not to save me, but to save you. You were the first woman in years – perhaps the first in all her life – to speak to her like an equal and to express concern for her well-being. Nothing in her life became her like the leaving of it.’
He pressed me close to him and I felt his breast heave with a long sigh.
It was a touching moment, and I respected his senti-ments, so I did not point out the flaws in his logic. If he chose to believe the poor soul had given her life for mine, let him enjoy the illusion; I knew better and would always cherish the memory of Ayesha because she had given her life for his.
After a moment of respectful silence I remarked, ‘Emerson, I have only one more question.’
‘That,’ said Emerson, ‘I find hard to believe. Well, my dear?’
‘You say you never thought I could be jealous.’
‘Quite right, Peabody.’
‘Then why have you been acting so confoundedly peculiar?’ I demanded. ‘If I ever saw guilt writ large upon a human countenance, it was writ upon yours. You have been painfully polite, disgustingly considerate – you never complained when I corrected your manuscript –’
Emerson gave me a hearty hug. ‘I said you were obtuse, Peabody. Don’t you know what was worrying me? Have you not read the inscription on the ushebti?’
‘Men-maat-Re Sethos . . . Emerson! Oh, Emerson, you were jealous too!’
‘Madly, furiously, desperately,’ Emerson declared, squeezing me till my ribs creaked. ‘Well, curse it, Peabody, it is an odd coincidence, to find that abominable name cropping up again, in a criminal case . . . It is only a coincidence – isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Emerson, it must be. Shall I swear to you, as you were good enough to swear to me, that never –’
‘No, Peabody. It is not necessary. I will never doubt you again.’
‘Oh, my dear Emerson!’
‘My darling Peabody!’
After a considerable period of time had passed, I got off his knee and straightened my dress. ‘You are closer to the bellpull than I am, Emerson. Will you ring for Gargery? It is rather early, but I think we might have a little whiskey and soda, to calm our nerves.’
‘Splendid idea, Peabody,’ Emerson declared. ‘And then what do you say to another of our little competitions in crime? We have enough information now, I believe, to construct a theory or two. I’ve seen you do it with much less, my dear.’
‘Thank you, my dear Emerson,’ I replied, with considerable emotion. ‘I accept the challenge in the spirit in which it was offered, and in the spirit which always rules us in these situations: May the best person win, devil take the hindmost, and no fair cheating.’
‘Would you care to begin, my dear Peabody?’
‘No, my dear Emerson, I yield to you.’
‘I expected you would,’ Emerson remarked. ‘Oh, there you are, Gargery. Bring the whiskey, if you please.’
‘And, Gargery,’ I added, ‘you will be glad to hear that everything is quite all right, just as the professor said.’
‘I can see that, madam,’ said Gargery, beaming. ‘Not that I ever doubted it would be.’
‘I tell you what, Peabody,’ said Emerson, after Gargery had brought the whiskey and departed, still beaming. ‘We might have Wilkins and Gargery trade places, eh? Wilkins would be much happier in a quiet, well-regulated household like this.’
‘It is worth considering,’ I agreed. ‘Now, Emerson, you were about to begin . . .’
‘Yes.’ Emerson went to the desk and began rummaging around. ‘Where did I put that confounded . . . ah, here it is.’
He handed me a sheet of paper. I glanced at it and burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Emerson, how amusing! No, my dear, don’t glower,