The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [141]
‘How unkind you are, Emerson.’
‘They are really very boring children, Peabody.’
‘I know. But we agreed to take them and do our best for them, and we must stick to our promise, Emerson.’
Emerson’s grasp tightened. ‘We have half an hour, Peabody. If we went upstairs directly . . . I could face the ordeal in a much better frame of mind after . . .’
I suppose I ought to have known better. But I defy any Reader to say she would have acted otherwise under the circumstances, which included a number of those little gestures to which I was susceptible under all circumstances and which were particularly poignant just then.
When we came out of the drawing room arm in arm I saw Gargery behind the curve of the stairs, grinning like the sentimental idiot he was; and then I saw no more of him, because Emerson swept me into his arms and ran up the stairs in, as I assumed, a burst of affectionate impatience. So impatient was he that he neglected to close the door, and I exclaimed, ‘Emerson, don’t you think . . . a little privacy . . .’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Emerson, breathing heavily. ‘One moment –’
Without going into improper details as to my position at the time, I will only say that I did not see the door close. I heard it, though. And then I heard another sound that affected me like a dash of icy water in the face. It was the sound of the key turning in the lock.
I bounded up from the bed. I was alone. I heard his footsteps retreating; he made no attempt to tiptoe. One touch of the knob confirmed what I already knew. He had locked me in.
I ran to the window and drew back the curtains. I was in time to see him leave the house. It was still bright daylight outside, though the shadows were lengthening. As he walked, with the rapid stride that could cover miles of desert terrain as quickly as another man might run, he shrugged into his coat. He was bareheaded. At the gate he turned for a moment and looked up at the window.
I doubt that he saw me, for the sun was directly opposite the house and when it was in that position it reflected blindingly from the front windows. But he knew I would be there. Raising his hand to his lips, he blew me a kiss. Then he broke into a run; within seconds he had vanished.
How long I remained at the window, prey to sensations I prefer not to recall, I cannot say; but it could not have been more than a minute before I heard the rattle of the key in the lock, and the voice of Gargery.
‘Madam? Mrs Emerson, are you there?’
‘Where else would I be, you idiot?’ I replied. ‘Unlock the door instantly.’
‘Yes, madam, of course. That is what the professor said I should do. But I don’t understand . . .’ The door opened. ‘I don’t understand what is going on,’ Gargery continued. ‘He said the lock was jammed, and went to get tools, but why it should be locked at all, and you inside, and the professor outside –’
‘“Outside” is the key word, Gargery, if you will excuse a vile pun. I don’t suppose he mentioned where he was going?’
‘To get tools, madam. He . . .’ Gargery’s jaw dropped. ‘Blimey!’ he exclaimed. ‘’E ’asn’t got away from us, ’as ’e?’
‘’E certainly ’as,’ I replied, in considerable bitterness of spirit. ‘He fooled us very nicely, Gargery – both of us. Never mind –’ For Gargery had begun pounding himself on the forehead with his clenched fist and was using expressions I had never heard him employ. ‘It was not your fault – and I apologize for calling you an idiot, Gargery. If you are, I am a greater one.’
‘Oh, madam.’ Gargery took a long, quivering breath and regained control of his speech. ‘I beg your pardon – I am afraid that in the ’eat – the heat – of the moment I forgot myself. There is no use going after him, I suppose?’
‘No, he has made good his escape. We can only wait, and exhibit that fortitude for which English persons of both sexes and all social classes are famous. It is time for tea, Gargery. I will be down shortly.’
‘Yes, madam.’ Gargery drew himself up to his full height. ‘And may I say, madam –’
‘No, Gargery, I would rather you did not. For my shell of