The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [60]
It was as well I acted when I did; the wretched beggar child had not escaped, but was held in the clutches of a very large constable. His shrill expostulations mingled with the growls of the police officer. ‘Move along, my lad, you can’t stay here. Ow – oh, you would, would you, you little –’
‘Constable,’ I called, hurrying down the walk. ‘Let the child go.’
‘But ma’am, he was lurking here, waiting to –’
‘No, I fancy he was trying to get back into the house,’ I replied. ‘Ramses, did you kick the policeman?’
‘I was forced to bite him, since I am not wearing shoes,’ Ramses replied.
‘Oh dear. Emerson, would you –’
Coins chinked again. The constable touched his hat and moved away, shaking his head. I reached for my son’s collar and then thought better of it, waving him inside the gate without touching him. In ominous silence we returned to the house.
In the full glow of artificial illumination the effect of Ramses’ appearance was little less than breath-taking. I had to give him credit; when he did something, he did a thorough job of it. His bare feet were black and blue – black with dirt and blue with cold – for the evening had turned sharply cooler. He wore the most indescribably horrible rags I have ever seen, the great rents in shirt and pantaloons gaping wide or held precariously together by huge pins; the cloth was sodden with a vile mixture of rain, soot, and mud. He smelled as bad as he looked. Mrs Watson backed away, pinching her nose.
Ramses snatched off his cap. (I was pleased to see that my lectures on the subject of manners had had some effect.) Reaching inside his foul shirt, he drew out a bedraggled bunch of daffodils – culled, I did not doubt, from the neatly tended beds in the park – and advanced on Violet. ‘I have brought you . . .’ he began.
Violet backed away, hands flapping, as if she were warding off an attack of bees or wasps. Her face was distorted. ‘Ugh, ugh, nasty, nasty,’ she screamed. ‘Ugh, nasty –’
Ramses’ face fell, but he mastered his disappointment manfully. Turning to me, he dragged another miserable bundle (mostly stems) from inside his shirt.
‘For you, Mama.’
‘Thank you, Ramses,’ I said, taking the slimy offering between my fingertips. ‘It was a kind thought, but I am afraid we are going to have to garnishee your pocket money to pay for the pourboires we are forced to offer persons you offend. It is beginning to mount up, Ramses.’
Emerson had been opening and closing his mouth like a frog. ‘Why is he dressed like that, Peabody?’ he inquired weakly.
‘I am practising my disguises,’ Ramses explained. ‘You remember, Papa, I was allowed to take the things we found in the lair of that master of disguise, the person known by his soubriquet of –’
I hastened to interrupt, for Emerson’s face was as black as a thundercloud. Any reminder of that incredible episode and even more incredible man had a deplorable effect on my worthy spouse’s blood pressure.
‘You must never leave the house without permission, Ramses,’ I said – knowing full well the prohibition was fruitless, for Ramses was already considering ways of getting around it. ‘Go upstairs and . . . Wait a moment. What is that scrape on your forehead? And don’t tell me
Percy did it.’
‘I had no intention of doing so,’ said Ramses.
Percy cleared his throat and stepped forward. ‘But it is my fault, sir, and Aunt Amelia – Ramses leaving the house without permission, I mean. I was teasing him to play with me; I wanted to go into the garden, to look for butterflies for my collection, you know – and when he wouldn’t, I may have said something about him being afraid to go out without a nursemaid or his mama . . . It was only a joke, sir, but I take full responsi –’
Ramses rounded on his cousin with a snarl that would have done credit to his admirable sire. Emerson caught him by the collar.
‘Don’t shake him, Emerson,’ I shrieked. ‘For pity’s sake, don’t shake –’
But it was too late.
We all went upstairs to change. The only one who had avoided the spatter of unspeakable liquid was Violet. As Ramses skulked past her she pointed