The Ape Who Guards the Balance Read Free Page B

assumption, Mr. Murdle,” said Ramses. “Force was not employed. The door was opened by Mr. Romer’s servant.”
    At that strategic moment the door opened again. There was no mistaking the identity of the man who stood on the threshold. The blaze of light behind him set his silvery hair and beard aglow. Just as unmistakable as his appearance was the resonant voice that had earned him his reputation as one of England’s greatest orators.
    “My lords, ladies and . . . er, that is . . . your attention, please. I have agreed to hear the petition of my old friend Mrs. Markham on condition that the rest of you disperse peacefully and without delay. Return your men to their duties, Sergeant.”
    Behind him I caught a glimpse of an exuberantly flowered hat before the door closed with a decisive bang.
    Mrs. Pankhurst’s was the first voice to break the silence. “There, now,” she said triumphantly. “Did I not assure you Mrs. Markham would prevail? Come, ladies, we may retreat with honor.”
    They proceeded to do so. The mob, disappointed at this tame ending, followed their example, and before long the only persons remaining were my son and myself and a single constable, who drew the violated gates together again before stationing himself in front of them.
    “Shall we go, Mother?” Ramses took my arm.
    “Hmmm,” I said.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Did you observe anything unusual about . . .”
    “About what?”
    I decided not to mention my strange fancy. If Ramses had observed nothing out of the way I had probably been mistaken.
    I ought to have known better. I am seldom mistaken. My only consolation for failing to speak is that even if Ramses had believed me, the constable certainly would not have done, and that by the time I forced someone in authority to heed my advice, the crime would already have been committed.
    Darkness was complete before we reached the house, and a thin black rain was falling. Gargery had been looking out for me; he flung the door open before I could ring, and announced in an accusing tone that the other members of the family were waiting for us in the library.
    “Oh, are we late for tea?” I inquired, handing him my parasol, my cloak, and my hat.
    “Yes, madam. The Professor is getting quite restive. If we had been certain Mr. Ramses was with you, we would not have worried.”
    “I beg your pardon for neglecting to inform you,” said Ramses, adding his hat to the pile of garments Gargery held.
    If he meant to be sarcastic, the effect was lost on Gargery. He had participated in several of our little adventures, and had enjoyed them a great deal. Now he considered himself responsible for us and sulked if he was not kept informed about our activities. A sulky butler is a cursed inconvenience, but in my opinion it was a small price to pay for loyalty and affection.
    Taking Gargery’s hint, we went straight in without changing, and found the others gathered round the tea table. My devoted husband greeted me with a scowl. “You are cursed late, Peabody. What kept you?”
    None of us likes to be waited upon when we are en famille, so Nefret had taken charge of the teapot. She was wearing one of the embroidered Egyptian robes she preferred for informal wear, and her red-gold hair had been tied back with a ribbon.
    Strictly speaking, she was not our adopted daughter, or even our ward, since she had come of age the previous year and—thanks to my dear Emerson’s insistence on this young woman’s rights—was now in control of the fortune she had inherited from her grandfather. She had no other kin, however, and she had become as dear to Emerson and me as our own daughter. She had been thirteen when we rescued her from the remote Nubian oasis where she had lived since her birth, and it hadn’t been easy for her to adjust to the conventions of modern England.
    It hadn’t been easy for me either. At times I wondered why Heaven had blessed me with two of the most difficult children a