The Murders of Richard III - Elizabeth Peters [57]
The rector coughed. “We can hardly imprison the gentleman,” he said. His mild voice was shocked. “That would be violating the law. The police—”
There was an immediate, unanimous murmur of negation. Strangways smiled. “I’m perfectly willing to face the police,” he said.
“You would be.” Philip pushed forward. “Padre, think again. I’m the last man to object to publicity, but if we want to make thorough asses of ourselves for the benefit of the newspaper-reading public of the world, the surest way is to call the police in.”
“Quite right, quite right,” the doctor said. “It must not get out. Dignity…reputations…”
Strangways looked at Philip. The two men were the same height; their eyes met like blades crossing.
“Hearing you was a privilege,” Strangways said. “I may regret my lack of manners, but I don’t regret having had the chance to hear your Richard.”
Philip made an impatient gesture.
“These exchanges of courtesy bore me,” he said curtly. “Sir Richard, I agree that we can’t convict Mr. Strangways without proof; but surely you aren’t going to allow him to be present tomorrow?”
“No, no. Mr. Strangways will leave in the morning. For the present, I fear he will have to endure my company.”
“But…” Kent began.
“I’ve been anxious to talk with him,” Weldon went on; and Thomas was amazed to see the familiar gentle glow of Ricardian passion warm the little peer’s face. “I feel sure I can convince him of his errors.”
Strangways laughed. He turned to Jacqueline, who had been oddly silent. “If I can’t have your company, my dear, Sir Richard’s is next best. A duel of wits, eh? We’ll see who convinces whom.”
He stepped forward. Weldon took him by the arm, as he might have done with any of his friends. As they walked away, Weldon was already talking.
“There’ll always be an England,” said Jacqueline, staring after them.
III
Instead of breaking up after the Great Discovery, the party revived. The event had sobered most of the guests; they took immediate steps to remedy this distressing development. Frank made a beeline for the punch bowl. Kent stood gnawing his lower lip.
“What about a drink?” Thomas asked him.
Kent looked up. He was playing with the jeweled dagger at his belt, and the look on his face chilled Thomas.
“Look here, General,” he began.
“Oh, it’s all right,” Kent cut in. “If Dick wants to play the gallant fool, that’s up to him. Richard forgave his enemies, didn’t he? Yes, I’ll have a drink—but not that foul brew in the bowl. I need some brandy to take the bad taste out of my mouth. Coming, Rawdon?”
He stamped off, followed by the doctor and Mr. Ellis. Lady Isobel and Mrs. Ponsonby-Jones had struck up a temporary alliance, to express their ladylike disapproval of the whole transaction. Arm in arm, they advanced on the punch bowl. Jacqueline stood like a statue, her eyes slightly crossed, communing with something invisible.
Thomas turned to Philip.
“ ‘Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I,’ ” he said, smiling. “Kent thinks I ought to challenge Strangways, or something.”
“Wrong play, right interpretation,” Philip said. “There’s nothing wrong with the general except that he’s out of place in a civilized society. He’d have been first rate in the fifteenth century.”
The actor looked more cheerful than he had for hours. Thomas didn’t have to search far for the reason. Deny it though he might, Strangways was the obvious candidate for the part of the comedian, and he wouldn’t be fool enough to try another trick now that he had been unmasked. Philip was relieved of his worst fear—humiliation.
“Let’s all have a drink,” he said. “Come along, Liz…Jacqueline….”
The four of them went toward the dais. As they approached the table, Frank lifted his cup in a mock toast.
“This is a slight improvement over the last batch,” he said cheerfully.
“It could hardly be worse,” Philip said. He filled a cup and offered it to Jacqueline, who refused, and then served the others.
Across the room Thomas saw Weldon and Strangways seated on a bench in one of the