The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [143]
‘Well?’ I said impatiently.
‘Supposing,’ said Percy slowly, ‘supposing someone knew that someone had done something. Something he wasn’t supposed to do.’
I wondered how I could ever have complained about Ramses’ speech patterns. At least he knew more than fifty words, and could arrange them into a coherent sentence. Percy went on, even more slowly, ‘Something bad, Aunt Amelia. Really bad, I mean. Should the person – the person who knew about it – tell?’
‘Tell whom?’ I inquired.
‘Oh . . . someone else.’
I knew perfectly well what he was aiming at. He kept glancing sideways at Ramses, who returned his look with a concentrated glare of dislike.
‘I believe I understand you, Percy,’ I said. ‘You are posing a hypothetical question on a moral issue. There is never a simple answer to such questions. It depends on a number of things. For example, on whether the first individual had been sworn to secrecy, or had promised to keep silent. A Roman Catholic priest, hearing confession –’
‘It wasn’t like that, Aunt Amelia,’ said Percy.
‘And also,’ I continued, ‘on how serious was the action in question. If it was only a harmless prank –’
‘It was bad,’ said Percy – metaphorically licking his chops. ‘Very, very bad. Very, ver –’
Ramses rose up from the sofa and launched himself at Percy’s throat.
They fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, taking a small table down with them and spilling the biscuits, which had been on the table, far and wide. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Violet pounce, like a cat on a mouse, but I could do nothing about her until I got the boys separated.
It was not as easy as I had expected. The first time I reached out, someone kicked me – I could not tell which it was. They rolled from side to side, arms and legs flailing; Percy was yelping and crying out, but Ramses fought in ominous silence; the only sounds I heard from him were grunts of pain and/or effort. Seizing the teapot, I took off the lid and threw the contents onto the combatants.
The water was no longer boiling, but it was hot enough to induce a momentary lull. I took advantage of it to pluck Ramses from the tangle and pull him to his feet.
Percy promptly rolled out of reach and got to his hands and knees. In comparing the two, I was interested to observe that Ramses, though slighter and shorter than his cousin, had managed to hold his own. Perhaps his father had given him those lessons in boxing after all. His nose was bleeding copiously – considering the size of the member, it was not surprising that Percy should have managed to strike it – his hair was standing straight up, and it appeared that Percy had bit him on the thumb. But Percy was in worse case. He too was bleeding, from a split lip, and his face was beginning to swell.
Having eaten all the biscuits, Violet was able to turn her mind to another matter. She darted at Ramses and pounded him with her fists. ‘Nasty, nasty, bad,’ she screamed. ‘Nasty!’
Maintaining my grip on Ramses – who made no attempt to retaliate, only shielding his face with his arms – I put my free hand over Violet’s face and shoved. She flew backwards onto the sofa with force enough to drive the breath out of her.
There was no need for me to ring the bell. The sounds of battle had brought Gargery, as well as Mrs Watson, into the room. I turned Violet over to Mrs Watson and Percy over to Gargery.
‘Well, Ramses,’ I said.
‘I am confined to my room,’ Ramses remarked, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve.
‘Yes.’ I plucked a few tea leaves out of his hair. ‘Do you require assistance in washing, changing, and tending your bruises?’
‘No, thank you, I would prefer to deal with the matter myself. As you see, my nose has stopped bleeding. The application of cold water –’
‘A great deal of cold water, I should think.’
‘Yes, Mama. At once.’ He started from the room. Then he stopped and turned. ‘One question, Mama, if I may.’
‘I will discuss this disgraceful incident with you at a later time, Ramses. At present I have other things on my mind.’
‘Yes, Mama.