Devil May Care (18 page)

When Ellie read this document over, she was forced to admire its neat arrangement and semilegal phrasing, but she couldn't see that it got them any farther and she said so.

DEVIL-MAY-CARE 147

"I haven't even begun to study it yet," Donald retorted.

"Besides, we aren't the only ones who will be bringing our wits to bear on this masterpiece. It may suggest something to Dad."

His elbows on the table, he studied the neatly written pages. Ellie fidgeted. She couldn't concentrate on anything, much less the implacable, black-and-white account of a series of outrageous events.

"It's getting darker," she said after a while.

"There's a big pile of purple clouds over there, to the west."

"A good thunderstorm may break the heat wave," Donald said, without looking up.

"It may break me, too. Donald, if I have to stay here tonight with the weather thundering and lightning and blowing outside ... I don't think I can do it."

Donald looked up.

"You mean you're ready to cop out?"

"Yes, I am. I've had it. What are you looking so glurn about? Your dad said I could stay at your place, and you seemed to agree ... "

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"So what's changed your mind?"

"Marjorie's granny." "Well, well," Ellie said. "Donald P. Gold, professional scoffer, has had his comeuppance. You think that was a genuine honest-to-God ghost, don't you?

Just wait till I tell your father."

"A logical person considers all possibilities," Donald said stubbornly. "It makes a certain amount of sense, you know. You could be the catalyst. Some students of psychic phenomena claim that the presence of a young person of a certain age ... I don't know how to put it without making you mad."

"I'm mad already," Eilie snapped. "I know the theory you're referring to, and the word is '."

In case it has escaped your attention, I'm long past that stage."

148 Elizabeth Peters

"It has not escaped my attention. Damn it, Ellie, I'm trying to apologize. I admit I didn't take you too seriously before; thought you had been fooled by stage-magician-type tricks. But if what you've been seeing was anything like what I saw tonight ... "

"In some ways this was unique," Ellie said thoughtfully. "The others frightened me--more or less--but this is the first time I've ever passed out cold from sheer terror. Oh, look here, Donald, there has to be some rational explanation for all this, including Marge's granny. Think."

"Hmm. An idea did pass rapidly in and out of my overworked brain when I saw that mess in the library.

I couldn't pin it down then. What do you think of when I say '' ?" "Books," Ellie said, humoring him. "Magazines.

Card--"

"Books. We assumed the books on the floor were knocked off the shelves during the struggle. But those are deep shelves, deep and solid. Suppose the burglar was disturbed while he was looking through the books--looking in such a frantic hurry that he dislodged some or them, threw them on the floor when he failed to find what he wanted?"

Ellie's mind remained blank. Her face registered this emotion, or lack of it. Donald exclaimed in disgust.

"That book you brought for Kate. Where is it? Not in the library, I hope. Because if it was--"

"No, it's in Kate's workroom, somewhere. You don't think--"

"It is the only thing that has been brought into this house, aside from your charming self," Donald said.

"Let's have a look at it."

It took them some time to find the volume. Ellie finally located it under a pile of unfinished embroidery, from which she had selected the piece she was working on. Donald snatched it from her hands.

"I think you're crazy," Ellie said. "What could DEVIL-MAY-CARE 14S there be about that book to cause all this commotion?

There are other copies of it around; Miss. Mary has one."

Turning pages, Donald dropped into a chair. The cat that was occupying it--the Siamese--got out just in time, but not without protest. Donald jumped a little when the claws sank into his ankle, but went on reading.

"Offhand it looks like a perfectly ordinary book," he muttered. "Incredibly dull, too. I wonder if I'm going to have to read every word of this tripe. Tell you what, I'll tear it in two and you can read--"

"Don't you dare! That's Kate's present. She hasn't even seen it."

Donald, who was nothing if not thorough in his enthusiasms, had taken the thin volume between his hands in the grip required for the vandalism he planned. Ellie's cry stopped him just in time, but his first quick twist had already had its effect. Ellie let out another exclamation as Donald inspected the inner front cover.

"You've torn it. The cover is split. Damn it, Donald --"

The expression on Donald's face stopped her.

"It's not torn," he said, in a queer voice. "It's come loose. There's something under it--between the leather and the paper that was pasted over the inside of the cover. I don't suppose there's such a thing as a letter opener in this chaos."

"There undoubtedly is. The question is, where?"

Prolonged search produced, not a letter opener, but a penknife, whicn Kate used for whittling. Ellie leaned over Donald's shoulder as he began working carefully at the book.

The paper that had been glued on to the inside of the cover, ir* order to conceal the rough edges of the outer leather binding, was a handsome colored sheet, Crinted in gold and green. The ease with which it x>sened along the outer edge suggested that it had ISO Elizabeth Peters been glued by an amateur, and that the old glue had dried and become brittle. When the paper was lifted along three of the four edges, Donald was able to extract the thing that had been hidden beneath it.

It was a single sheet of a substance that was not paper, but something thicker and more pliable. At first glance it resembled a page from an ancient illuminated manuscript, with an oversized initial letter twined with miniature devices in gi! t and scarlet and green. The rich black ink of the text was unfaded.

At the bottom of the sheet were other words, less regularly spaced; these had faded almost to invisibility.

"It's a P," Ellie said, breathing heavily on the back of Donald's neck.

"And an a," Donald said. He started to beat time with a finger. "Gimme a t, gimme an e, gimme a p-a-t ... "

"You are hopelessly frivolous."

"This is Latin, Ellie."

"Do you know Latin?"

"Just enough to write indecipherable prescriptions.

Shut up a minute and let me think. Pater nosier . , . qui erat in caelis ... " " ' Father,' " Ellie said. "I know that much Latin. It's the Lord's Prayer, Donald."

"I guess you're right. Looks like a page out of a medieval manuscript."

They looked blankly at one another.

"Why hide it in a book?" Donald asked finally.

"Is it valuable?"

"Damned if I know. I suppose it could be. But I've seen old parchment pages on sale in antique shops for--oh, a few bucks. They aren't that rare. Now if it were a page of some lost play by Aristophanes, or an unknown dialogue of Plato's--" "Then," said Ellie, unable to resist, "it would be in Greek."

Donald burst out laughing.

DEVIL-MAY-CARE 151

"Got me that time. Would you believe it if I said that many Greek masterpieces survive only in Latin copies?"

"I probably would. Is it true?"

"Damned if I know."

"The fact is, neither of us knows much. We need an expert."

"Then you agree that this little bit of piety has something to do with our problem?" Donald asked, waving it high in the air.

"I don't see how it could. What could be more harmless than the Lord's Prayer? If all that psychic stuff is true, then this should be a protection against evil spirits, shouldn't it? Not something to summon them up."

"True." Donald looked chagrined. "It's peculiar all the same, Ellie. Finding something like this carefully concealed in the cover of a book, I mean. And what has been happening here is also peculiar. Two peculiar things ought to be connected."

"We could drive over to the University tomorrow and find ourselves a medieval specialist," Ellie suggested.

"Good idea. Anyway, we'll have something interesting to show Dad when he gets here. What are you planning to give us for dinner?"

They had the meal well underway when the doctor finally arrived. Donald was deeply involved in an all gratin sauce that refused to thicken, so Ellie went to the door. She was shocked at the doctor's appearance; his shoulders sagged and his face was drawn with fatigue.

"Ted!" she exclaimed. "Is he--"

"No, no." The doctor smiled at her. "If I weren't trained to professional caution I'd say he was a little better. It's been a hard day, that's all."

"The weather is enough to wear anyone out." As she drew him into the house she glanced at the sky.

The cloud bank she had seen earlier was larger and

152 Elizabeth Peters more threatening; a streak of lightning crossed the swollen purple mass. "I wish it would rain."

"There's not a breath of air." The doctor mopped his forehead. "Where's Donald?"

"Cooking. You've really got him well trained. No, you come into the parlor, those chairs are more comfortable.

Take off your shoes and put your feet up and I'll get you a drink."

"Sounds great." The doctor collapsed with a sigh.

Donald came in as Ellie was removing the doctor's shoes, over his embarrassed objections. He gave his father a tall glass and a long calculating appraisal.

"Damn it, Dad, you look like death warmed over.

How many times have I told you--"

"I'm perfectly all right. Just a little tired." "Back in a minute," Donald said, and left the room.

Ellie followed him to the kitchen, where he was heaping a tray with crackers and cheese and other snacks.

"Take this in and make him eat something," he snapped, handing Ellie the tray.

"He works too hard," Ellie said. "Can't you persuade him to hire an assistant, or take a partner?"

"Why do you think I feel so damn guilty? He won't hire anybody, he's waiting for me. And I've added another year to the waiting period by my stupid behavior --"

"That's not the adjective I'd choose."

"I had no right to take the chance. Playing hero, making like Saint Donald among the lepers--but it's Dad who has to pay for my little ego trip. He's not getting any younger."

"You sound to me as if you're on another ego trip," Ellie said. "Enjoying your guilt feelings? They don't do him any good."

Donald's brows drew together. After a moment he relaxed and gave her a faint smile.

"Whatever happened to sweet female sympathy?

Go on, I'll bring your drink."

DEVIL-AMY-CARE 153

The words were ungracious, but he didn't sound angry. As Ellie carried the tray toward the parlor she couldn't help wondering how Henry would have responded to such a caustic criticism. No, she didn't wonder; she knew.

At first Donald was reluctant to discuss the "problem," as they referred to it, until his father had relaxed and had had something to eat. But Dr. Gold's interest could not be restrained. After all, Ellie thought, the "problem" probably seemed less tragic than the life-and-death issues he dealt with daily, and its outre nature was an intellectual challenge to a logical man.

"Well," he said, when Donald had finished bringing him up to date, "you two have certainly been busy, haven't you? And now we can look forward to an evening of heated debate. Some of your guests are going to be nasty; you realize that, don't you?" He had said "we." Feeling as if she had acquired an army of allies, Ellie said calmly, "Mr. Mcgrath, you mean? There isn't much he can do except yell."

"Not only Mcgrath," the doctor said. "Miss. Mary can be quite a handful when she gets her back up; so can Marjorie, in a different way. Actually, my dear, the only person you can count on to behave in a relatively civilized fashion is Senator Grant."

"It's interesting that you should say that," Ellie said. "I was looking over our outline, and it struck me that Grant's family is the only one that hasn't been represented yet--ghost-wise, 1 mean."

"Ghost-wise," Donald repeated. "Is that Washington bureaucratese?"

The doctor waved this objection away with an impatient hand.

"A good point, Ellie. Several other points have occurred to me. Can I see your outline?"

"In the kitchen." Donald rose. "Everything is ready 154 Elizabeth Peters but the steaks; you two can sit at the table and cogitate while I cook."

"I want to see that manuscript sheet, too," the doctor said.

Ellie went to fetch it and the book. When she returned she saw that the enticing odors had attracted others. A mob of furry bodies jostled and mewed at the kitchen door.

"We forgot to feed the animals," she said, opening the door and trying to keep her feet as the mob poured past her.

"So we did." Donald glanced out the window. "I'd better get it over with. It's going to rain like hell before long. Ten minutes. You two have another drink."

Turning off the broiler, he set to work. Throughout her conversation with the doctor Ellie was conscious of his movements--neat, quick, economical--as he passed back and forth, in and out of the house. When he opened the back door, a blast of steamy air came in, and Ellie saw that the topmost branches of the trees were beginning to sway in a rising wind. The sunset was a masterpiece of angry color, blood-red and purple and somber black split by streaks of coppery sunlight, and by an occasional lightning flash.

Thunder echoed distantly.

With the hot air from outside came William, a quivering mass of jelly covered by fur. Ellie hadn't realized that he was outside, with the terrible dangerous lightning; she had to soothe him and apologize to him before he finally settled down under the table with his huge head on her feet.

The doctor was a fast reader. He skimmed through their outline and then glanced at the page of manuscript.

"I'm not a Latinist," he admitted. "Looks like the Lord's Prayer to me, and I don't know what to make of it either. What are these marks at the bottom of the page?"