The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [56]
The rest of Emerson followed his head. ‘Nothing but a blank wall,’ he muttered.
‘And a vast quantity of dust,’ I added, brushing at Emerson’s sleeve. ‘Really, Mr Budge, your housekeeping –’
Budge waved both fists. ‘Out!’ he shouted, purpling. ‘Out of here, all of you! This gallery is now closed to the public –’
‘That makes sense,’ Emerson agreed. He stared at the only other people who had remained in the room – those dedicated journalists, O’Connell and Miss Minton, and a third individual who was unfamiliar to me. ‘Cursed reporters,’ Emerson said. ‘Throw them out.’
Both stubbornly stood their ground, and the third individual stepped forward, smiling self-confidently. His close-fitting black frock coat displayed a trim, athletic figure, but he was not in his first youth. Deep lines scored his high forehead and sallow cheeks, and there were pouches of sagging flesh under his eyes. His silk hat and snowy linen were of the finest quality, and he twirled a gold-headed cane in his gloved fingers.
‘I’m sure your prohibition does not extend to me, Mr Budge,’ he drawled.
Budge’s manner changed abruptly. He babbled, he beamed, he all but grovelled. ‘Certainly not, your lordship. Your lordship, is always welcome. If your lordship would condescend –’
‘You’re a good fellow, Budge,’ said his lordship, with the condescension Budge had invited. ‘Won’t you present me? I know this lady and gentleman by reputation – as who does not? – but I have not had the pleasure of meeting them.’
Mr Budge stuttered through the introductions while his lordship studied me through his monocle. I took a firm grip on Emerson, who has been known to object violently to monocles, impertinent stares, and members of the aristocracy; but he only said mildly, ‘Lord St John St Simon. You are Canterbury’s youngest son, I believe?’
His lordship took off his hat and bowed. Though long strands of hair had been carefully stuck in place with pomade, they did not conceal the bald spot on the crown of his head. ‘You flatter me, Professor. I had not expected the activities of a dilettante like myself would be of interest to you.’
‘Your activities have been widely reported,’ said Emerson. ‘I believe you are an intimate of the young man whose father presented the famous coffin to the Museum?’
This was news to me, and I began to see why Emerson was standing there chatting when I would have expected him to be in hot pursuit of the false priest.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Budge importantly. ‘Lord Liverpool is a splendid young man, and a generous patron; dare I hope he accompanied you today, your lordship?’
‘He is somewhere about, I believe,’ Lord St John said, hiding a yawn behind his impeccable glove.
‘Indeed? Is he indeed? I must find him, then. Present my compliments . . .’
Emerson continued to stare at his lordship, and eventually even that supercilious gentleman showed signs of self-consciousness. Twirling his stick, he asked, ‘Well, Professor, what now? I expected you would be hot in pursuit of the priest. Tallyho, yoicks, and that sort of thing. Or do you agree with some of the reporters that he has supernatural powers and can vanish into thin air?’
‘Humbug,’ said Emerson.
‘Oh, quite, Professor. And yet he went behind this curtain and did not come out. I heard you say there is no door, no exit –’
‘Surely the answer is obvious, your lordship,’ I said. ‘All he had to do was remove the mask and wig – which are all of a piece – and the robe, and join the rest of the spectators. There was such confusion –’
‘In which case he must have left the room by that door,’ said Emerson, pointing. ‘Mingling with the others, he would pass through the Third Egyptian Gallery and thence to the stairs. They lead down to the Hall of Sculpture; from there he could reach the main entrance onto Great Russell Street. However, we may as well follow. One of the guards may have noticed someone carrying a large parcel or a bag.’
‘Containing the costume?’ his lordship said. ‘Excellent, Professor. Mrs Emerson, may I offer you my arm?’
‘As you can see, your