The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [40]
The ‘young lady’ was busily engaged in examining the family photographs ranged along the mantel. Though her back was turned to me, I recognized her at once from the inquisitive tilt of her head and the fact that she was scribbling in a pocketbook.
‘Young lady, did you say, Wilkins?’ I exclaimed loudly.
She let out a yelp and spun around. It was indeed Miss Minton, looking very smart in a neat blue tweed tailor-made and striped shirt. A straw sailor hat perched atop her head.
Wilkins tactfully withdrew and Miss Minton proved herself no lady. Without greeting or apology she rushed at me, brandishing her notebook. ‘You must hear me, Mrs Emerson, indeed you must!’
I drew myself up. ‘Must, to ME, Miss Minton? You know not to whom you speak!’
‘Oh, but I do – I do! Why else would I be here? Excuse me, Mrs Emerson, I know I am behaving badly, but I haven’t time to be polite, indeed I haven’t. I hired the only trap at the railway station, but I don’t underestimate his devilish resourcefulness, he will soon find other means of transport and follow –’ The speech ended in another small yelp or scream as a fusillade of knocking and calling broke out, clearly audible even through the closed door.
Miss Minton stamped her foot. ‘Devil take it! He is quicker than I would have believed possible. Mrs Emerson, will you –’
She did not finish; the turmoil without culminated in the bursting open of the drawing-room door. On the threshold stood Kevin O’Connell. Hatless, windblown, his complexion matching his hair in intensity if not in precise shade, his cheeks streaked with perspiration, he was momentarily bereft of speech by haste, exertion, and outrage.
Beyond him I saw Wilkins, seated on the floor of the hallway. Whether he had slipped, tripped, or been pushed, I did not know; but he continued to sit there without moving or blinking.
The two young people burst into speech at one and the same time. Miss Minton insisted that I do something – what, I could not ascertain. Kevin’s conversation consisted solely of imprecations directed at Miss Minton. A recurring refrain was ‘Ah, begorra, if you were a man, now . . .’
Needless to say I did not permit this to continue unchecked. After considering the situation I decided that Wilkins must wait; he appeared to be unharmed, only stupefied. I first shut the door. Then I said, ‘Be quiet!’
I have had ample opportunity to practise that speech with Ramses. Silence instantly ensued.
‘Sit down,’ I ordered. ‘You there, Miss Minton, and you, Mr O’Connell, take that chair, on the far side of the room.’
I remained standing as I continued severely, ‘Seldom have I beheld such an unseemly spectacle. You especially, Mr O’Connell, should know you risk severe bodily injury by bursting into the house in this manner. I only pray the professor has not heard the ruckus. He is not in a happy frame of mind these days.’
Kevin was sobered by the reminder. ‘Indeed, but you’ve the right of it, Mrs E.,’ he said uneasily. ‘To be honest I was so beside myself with rage at the way I was outmanoeuvred by this bold-faced wench –’
Miss Minton bounced up from her chair, her small fists clenched. I pushed her back into it. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses? Explain this intrusion at once. No, Mr O’Connell, be silent, you will have your turn to speak.’
The girl reached into her bag and took out a newspaper. She thrust it at me. Her eyes were bright with excitement. ‘The mummy has struck again. There has been another murder!’
V
KEVIN and Miss Minton continued to exchange whispered imprecations while I perused the newspaper. It was the latest edition of the Mirror, fresh off the press (as the ink that transferred itself to my fingers testified).
Miss Minton had been guilty of journalistic hyperbole in saying ‘another murder,’ since the death of the watchman had never been proved to be other than natural. However, the latest event must cast serious doubts upon that diagnosis, for the second death was unquestionably homicide. It is possible for a man to cut his own