The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [79]
‘Never mind, Peabody,’ Emerson replied slowly. ‘Mr O’Connell has us by . . . has the right of it. We can’t prevent him from following us, so we may as well take him along. Another able-bodied man might be useful.’
‘Excellent,’ O’Connell exclaimed, his eyes shining. ‘Thank you, Professor. You won’t regret it, I assure you.’
‘I am confident I won’t,’ said Emerson. ‘But in deference to Mrs Emerson’s sensibilities we must wait until midnight, so we may as well relax. Another whiskey, Mr O’Connell?’
I would have expected a member of a profession noted for its cynicism to be more suspicious of Emerson’s sudden amiability, but in Kevin’s defence it must be said that when he puts himself out to be affable, no one is more affable than my dear husband. Subdued by chagrin at my unusual lack of reticence, I kept still and let Emerson do the talking. Admirable man! Not once, by word or glance, did he reproach me. Instead he exerted himself to win Kevin’s confidence and lower his guard – with immediate success. Conversationally, almost negligently, he mentioned the threatening message he had received earlier.
Kevin fell on it like a fish on a worm. ‘I say, Professor, but that is . . . it opens up all sorts of possibilities, don’t you think? For one thing, Ahmet was in police custody . . . no, that won’t wash, for there is no way of knowing when the messages were dispatched, eh? On the other hand . . .’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Confound it, I have forgot what I was going to say.’
‘Take your time, Mr O’Connell, take your time,’ said Emerson, with a benevolent smile. ‘We are in no hurry.’
‘Thank you, sir. I say, sir, but I do appreciate your confidence. I hope this is the beginning of a firm friendship, sir. I have always admired your . . . your . . .’
‘Have another whiskey,’ said Emerson.
‘Thank you, Emerson, old chap. Excellent whishkey . . . Now I remember what I was about to say. These usherbis – shaberis – oh, hang it, never mind, you know what I mean. These li’l statues. If you and Mr Budge got ’em, maybe some of the other chaps did too, eh?’
Emerson exclaimed, ‘There, you see, Peabody? I told you Mr O’Connell was a sharp young fellow. We had begun to wonder the same thing, Mr O’Connell, and were, in fact, about to send round to inquire. We got so far as to make out a list of possible recipients before your startling news distracted us.’
‘What a story,’ Kevin muttered, helping himself to the whiskey – for Emerson had placed the decanter handily at his elbow.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Emerson. ‘It is a pity there is not time enough to make the inquiries immediately. One would prefer to get the initial reactions of the recipients, before they have time to think it over, and perhaps refuse to talk to the press.’
With some little difficulty Kevin extracted his watch from his waistcoat and squinted at it. ‘There is time,’ he declared. ‘Plenty of time. Yes. You won’t be leaving until after midnight . . .’
‘Mrs Emerson’s religious scruples forbid it,’ Emerson said gravely.
‘Yes, quite. Very nice, too . . . I’ll tell you what, my dear chap – you don’t mind if I call you my dear chap?’
Emerson replied with the most malevolent grin I have ever seen on a human countenance, and with a slap on the back that almost propelled Kevin out of his chair. ‘Whatever you like, my boy.’
‘Good old Emerson,’ Kevin exclaimed. ‘You wait for me, eh? I’ll – I’ll just run off and do my errands and come back here. You wait for me, eh? I’ll hurry, that’s what I’ll do. Eh?’
‘Do that,’ Emerson replied. ‘Gargery, Mr O’Connell is leaving; fetch his coat, if you please.’
O’Connell had scarcely left the room when Emerson was on his feet. ‘Quick, Peabody.’
‘But Emerson,’ I exclaimed, scarcely able to contain my laughter, ‘my religious scruples –’
Emerson seized me by the wrist. ‘What religious scruples? What scruples? You have none, Peabody, and you know it.’
‘Not when duty and honour call,’ I replied – somewhat breathlessly, for