The Ape Who Guards the Balance (4 page)

Ramses opened the door of his room.

“You knocked?” he inquired in simulated astonishment. “Why this deviation from habit?”

Nefret swept into the room, the full skirts of her negligee trailing like a royal robe, and flung herself down on the bed. “Don’t try to put me on the defensive, Ramses, I will not let you do it. How dare you spy on me?”

Involuntarily Ramses glanced at David, who rolled his eyes and shrugged, indicating that he had no intention of getting involved in the argument.

“An unprovoked and unwarranted accusation,” Ramses said.

His cool response only made Nefret angrier. Color stained her cheeks. “The devil it is! You came sneaking round to the hospital to find out whether I was really there. Well, I wasn’t, was I?”

“Evidently not.”

They glared at one another. David decided it was time to intervene, before one of them said something really rude.

“I am sure Ramses only went by to see whether you wanted to accompany him to the suffragist meeting. Isn’t that right, Ramses?”

Ramses nodded. It was the best he could do; a spoken “yes” would have stuck in his throat.

“You needn’t have brought it up in front of Aunt Amelia and the Professor.”

“You started it.”

“By teasing you about Christabel?” Nefret was never able to stay angry for long. The corners of her mouth quivered.

“You know I don’t give a damn about the damned girl!”

“Oh, dear, what an ungentlemanly thing to say. But she—”

“Don’t begin again,” David exclaimed. He never knew whether to laugh or swear or sympathize when the two of them got into one of these exchanges; Nefret was one of the few people in the world who could make Ramses lose his temper, and David was probably the only person in the world who knew why. Hoping to distract them, he went on, “You came at an opportune moment, Nefret; we were discussing the reappearance of the Master Criminal, and Ramses was about to tell me what he knows of that mysterious individual.”

Nefret sat up and crossed her legs. “I’m sorry, Ramses,” she said cheerfully. “I shouldn’t have accused you of spying on me.”

“No.”

“It’s your turn to apologize.”

“What for?” He caught David’s eye and got a grip on himself. “Oh, very well. I apologize.”

“All forgiven, then. I am glad I came, for I am dying of curiosity about Sethos. To be honest, I had come to think of him as . . . well, not exactly a figment of Aunt Amelia’s imagination, but an example of her tendency to exaggerate.”

“Her fondness for melodrama, you mean.” Ramses seated himself on the floor, Arab-style.

Nefret grinned and took the cigarette he offered her. “Neither of us is being entirely fair, Ramses. Aunt Amelia doesn’t have to exaggerate. Things
happen
to her. She was holding something back, though. You can always tell because she looks you straight in the eye and speaks briskly and firmly. The Professor was concealing something too. What is the secret about Sethos that neither of them wants known?”

“I have told you some of it.”

“Bits and pieces. It was from him you learned the art of disguise—”

“That is not entirely accurate,” said Ramses. “I fell heir to Sethos’s collection of disguises, after Father forced him to flee from his headquarters, but I had to reason out his methods for myself and improve on them.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Nefret.

“Granted.”

“Ramses,” David began.

“Yes. I have told both of you what I know of the man from my personal encounters with him. On all those occasions he was disguised, and very well, too; his impersonation of a crotchety old American lady was absolutely brilliant. At the end of that particular adventure he succeeded in abducting Mother, and held her prisoner for several hours. I don’t know what transpired during that interval. I doubt that even my father knows for certain. That is why the mere mention of Sethos maddens him so.”

Nefret’s mouth hung open. “Good Gad,” she gasped. “Are you saying he—she—they—”

“I doubt it,” Ramses said coolly. “I have never known two people so attached to one another as my parents. It is very embarrassing at times,” he added, scowling.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Nefret said with a fond smile. “No, Aunt Amelia would never be untrue to the Professor, but if she was in that evil man’s power—”

Ramses shook his head. “She would not have spoken of Sethos with such forbearance if he had forced himself on her. However, there is no doubt in my mind that he was in love with her, and it is possible that she felt a certain unwilling attraction for him. I saw the letter he sent her after we had got her back; he promised her he would never again interfere with her or anyone she loved. I suspect, though, that she and Father have encountered him again since. There were some very odd aspects about that business a few seasons ago—you remember, Nefret, when they went out to Egypt alone and we were staying with Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Walter.”
*

Nefret gurgled with laughter. “Do you remember the night we let the lion out of its cage? Uncle Walter was absolutely furious!”

“With me,” Ramses said. “Not you.”

“It was your idea,” Nefret pointed out. “Well, never mind. But the villain in that case wasn’t Sethos, it was somebody else. I forget his name.”

“It is difficult to keep track of all the people who have tried to murder Mother and Father,” Ramses agreed. “This villain was a chap named Vincey, and since Father shot him during their final encounter, we may reasonably conclude he was guilty of something. Father doesn’t kill people if he can avoid doing so. But I still think Sethos was involved in that business, in a manner I can’t explain.”

Nefret scowled. “It’s ridiculous, the way we have to piece things together from bits of miscellaneous information. Why do Aunt Amelia and the Professor try to keep information from us? It’s dangerous, for them and for us. Uninformed is unarmed!”

She gestured vehemently, sprinkling the floor with ashes. Ramses removed the cigarette from her hand and extinguished it in the bowl they used for a receptacle. Its original function had been to contain potpourri. His mother knew he smoked, though he seldom indulged in her presence, since she disapproved. He knew he did it
because
she disapproved. David did it because he did, and Nefret did it because he and David did.

“I wonder if Sethos knew she would be there this afternoon,” David said.

“I am convinced he did not know,” Ramses said. “Mother had had very little to do with the WSPU, and her decision to attend this particular demonstration was made on the spur of the moment.”

“He must have seen her there, though.”

“It is difficult to overlook Mother.” They exchanged knowing smiles, and Ramses went on, “However, by the time she arrived it was too late to cancel the operation. No, David, I’m certain the encounter was accidental. He’ll be careful to stay out of her way hereafter.”

He fell silent. After a moment, Nefret said, “What does he look like? She’s a good observer; if she spent so much time alone with him, she ought to have noticed
something
.”

“Not a great deal. His eyes are of an indeterminate shade; they can appear black, gray or hazel. The color of his hair is unknown, thanks to his skillful use of wigs and dyes. The only facts of which we can be relatively certain are his height—a trifle under six feet—and his build, which is that of a man in the prime of life and excellent physical condition. Though he speaks a number of languages, Mother is of the opinion that he is an Englishman. Not very useful, you must admit.”

“Yet she recognized him tonight,” Nefret said.

“That was odd,” Ramses admitted. “I would think she had invented it, but for the fact that something unquestionably struck her at the time. She started to ask me if I had noticed anything unusual, and then thought better of it.”

“You didn’t?”

“I had not seen the fellow for years, and—”

“That’s quite all right, my boy, you needn’t make excuses. Six feet tall, in excellent physical condition . . . Hmmmm.”

“Just what are you suggesting?” Ramses demanded, stiffening.

She put a slim hand on his shoulder. “Calm yourself, my boy. I assure you I meant no insult to Aunt Amelia. But if she was attracted to him, however unwillingly, the counterreaction will be even stronger.”

“What counterreaction?” David asked.

Nefret gave him a kindly smile. “You don’t know much about women, either of you. A woman may forgive a man for abducting her, and she certainly will not blame him for falling in love with her. What she will
never
forgive is being made to look like a fool. That is what Sethos has done to Aunt Amelia.”

“I wish you wouldn’t spout aphorisms,” Ramses grumbled. “You sound like Mother.”

“That is not an aphorism, it is a simple fact! Don’t you see—the way Sethos used the suffragist movement struck a blow at a cause dear to Aunt Amelia’s heart. It will give fresh ammunition to those male supremacists who claim women are too naive and childlike to deal with the real world. The WSPU will be mercilessly ridiculed for admitting a pack of criminals into their ranks—”

“That isn’t fair,” Ramses protested. “Sethos has deceived the keenest criminal investigators.”

“Fair, unfair, what difference does that make to the press? And just wait until some enterprising journalist discovers Aunt Amelia was there. ‘Mrs. Amelia P. Emerson, the noted archaeologist and amateur detective, attacked a constable who was attempting to prevent a gang of thieves from entering the house!’ ”

“Oh dear,” David exclaimed, paling visibly. “They wouldn’t!”

“She didn’t actually attack the fellow,” Ramses mused. “But it wasn’t for want of trying. Oh dear indeed. Could we find an excuse to leave town for a few days, do you think?”

•

Two

•

I
am a rational individual. My emotions are under firm control at all times. Being only too familiar with the lies and exaggerations of journalists, I knew what to expect from those villains once the story of the robbery got out. I was prepared for the worst and determined not to lose my temper.

Nor would I have done if the
Daily Yell,
London’s most prominent proponent of sensational journalism, had not printed a letter from Sethos himself. It had been sent to the newspaper in care of Kevin O’Connell, who was an old acquaintance of ours. At times I considered Kevin a friend. This was not one of those times.

“For once,” Emerson remarked somewhat breathlessly, as I struggled to free myself from the steely arms that had wrapped round me, “I must come to O’Connell’s defense. You could hardly expect him to refrain from printing . . . Curse it, Peabody, will you please put down that parasol and stop squirming? I will not allow you to leave the house while you are in this agitated state of mind.”

I daresay I could have got away from him, but I would not have got far. Gargery stood before the closed door, arms outstretched and frame stiff with resolve; Ramses and David had been drawn to the scene by Emerson’s shouts and my indignant expostulations, and I entertained no illusions as to whose side they were on. Men always stick together.

“I do not know why you are behaving in such an undignified manner, Emerson,” I said. “Let me go at once.”

Emerson’s grip did not relax. “Give me your word you will come along quietly.”

“How can I not, when there are four of you great bullies against one poor little woman?”

Gargery, who is not especially large or muscular, swelled with pride. “Aow, madam—” he began.

“Mind your vowels, Gargery.”

“Yes, madam. Madam, if you want that reporter thrashed you should leave it to the Professor, or to me, madam, or Bob, or Jerry, or—”

Emerson cut him short with a gesture and a nod. “Come along to the library, Peabody, and we will discuss this calmly. Gargery, pour the whiskey.”

A sip of this curative beverage, so soothing to the nerves, restored me to my customary self-possession. “I suppose you have all read the letter,” I remarked.

Obviously they had, including Nefret, who had kept prudently out of the way until then. David said timidly, “I thought it a very gentlemanly and graceful gesture. An apology, even.”

“A cursed impertinence, rather,” Emerson exclaimed. “A jeer, a sneer, a challenge; rubbing salt in the wound, aggravating the offense—”

“He has a pretty turn of rhetoric,” said Ramses, who had taken up the newspaper. “ ‘The honorable and upright ladies of the suffragist moment—a movement with which I am in complete sympathy—cannot be blamed for their failure to anticipate my intentions. The police of a dozen countries have sought me in vain. Scotland Yard—’ ” He broke off and looked critically at Nefret. “You find it amusing?”

“Very.” Nefret’s laughter is quite delightful—soft and low-pitched, like sunlit water bubbling over pebbles. On this occasion I could have done without the pleasure of hearing it. Catching my eye, she attempted to contain her mirth, with only partial success. “Particularly that sentence about being in sympathy with the suffragist movement. Considering that one of his lieutenants is female, one must give him credit for living up to his principles.”

“What principles?” Emerson demanded, conspicuously unamused. “His reference to your Aunt Amelia proves he is no gentleman.”

“He referred to her in the most flattering terms,” Nefret insisted. She snatched the paper from Ramses and read aloud. “ ‘Had I known that Mrs. Emerson would be present, I would not have proceeded with my plan. I have greater respect for her perspicuity than for that of all Scotland Yard.’ ”

Emerson said, “Ha!” I said nothing. I was afraid that if I unclenched my jaws I would use improper language. Ramses looked from me to Nefret.

“What do you think, Nefret?”

“I think,” said Nefret, “that Sethos does not know much about women either.”

It gave me a certain mean satisfaction to find that Sethos had foiled Scotland Yard as effectively as he had fooled me. The inquiry had come to a dead end after Mr. Romer’s carriage and horses were discovered in a livery stable in Cheapside. The individual who had left it was described, unhelpfully, as a bearded gentleman. The carriage had been empty.