In the Teeth of Adversity (20 page)

“But –”

“Oh, I'll square it with your superiors first, if you like.” Sir Geoffrey brought up the heavy guns. “Who d'you want me to ring – the Commissioner? The Home Secretary? The –”

“No, no.” Rennolds collapsed back into his chair. “Perhaps you're right. I'll stay. I
don't
feel very well.”

“We'll be getting along then,” I said cheerfully. “It's been a pleasure to be your adjutant, Sir Geoffrey. If you ever decide to retire from medicine, you might think of giving PR a whirl. Perkins and Tate could use you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sir Geoffrey said modestly. Gerry was helping Penny on with her coat and I looked at Pandora. “Coming?” I asked.

Pandora seemed to be debating the point. She gave me a long, considering look.

A dog insists on making a hero out of his master. A cat is even more of a realist than a valet. A cat can face facts. She not only knows the truth, she makes sure that
you
know that she is coldly aware that she has thrown in her lot with a louse.

“I
said
I was sorry.”

She considered a bit more.

“Please yourself,” I said. “The rest of us are going home.”

As I turned, the familiar weight suddenly hit my shoulder, and a wet nose nuzzled my ear.

“Prryehyow,” Pandora said. I might be a louse, but I was
her
louse and she was sticking with me.

What would I want with a dog, anyway? It would be too much to try to live up to.

On my part, I had a sneaking suspicion that Pandora was not displeased at having been allowed – positively encouraged – to get in a few licks of her own at the hated enemy in the white coat.

Live and let live. Neither of us was perfect.

We followed Penny and Gerry, and as the front door closed behind us all, Pandora nestled down on my shoulder and began purring contentedly. We were going home.