The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters Page A

Professor darling?”
    “One or two,” Emerson said calmly. “And I seem to recall climbing over a cart filled with some vegetable substance. Potatoes, perhaps?”
    “Something squashier,” I said, unable to repress a smile. “I hope Bob can get those boots clean. You had better go up and change.”
    “You too,” said Emerson, his brilliant blue eyes intent on my face.
    “Yes, my dear.”
    Drawing my arm through his, Emerson led me out.
    I assumed, naturally, that he was impatient to express his relief at my deliverance in his usual affectionate manner. On this occasion I was in error. He assisted me with buttons and boots, as he usually did; but once my outer garment had been removed, he turned me round and inspected me more in the manner of a physician than an impatient spouse.
    “You look as if you had been over Victoria Falls in a barrel,” he remarked.
    “It looks worse than it feels,” I assured him, not entirely truthfully, for the assorted bruises were stiffening and my shoulder ached like fury. I must have landed on it when the rascal tossed me into the van.
    Emerson ran his long fingers through my hair and then took me gently by the chin and tilted my face up to the light. “There is a bruise on your jaw and a lump on the back of your head. Did he strike you on the face, Peabody?”
    Not one whit deceived by the unnatural calm of his voice, I strove to reassure him. “I can’t remember, Emerson. It was quite exciting while it lasted, you see. I fought back, of course—”
    “Of course. Well, I have seen you in worse condition, but I am going to put you to bed, Peabody, and send for a doctor.”
    I had no intention of submitting to this, but after some spirited discussion I agreed to let Nefret have a look at me. The look of shock on her face told me I must present rather a horrid spectacle, so I let her tend to me, which she did as gently and skillfully as a trained physician.
    “There are no broken bones,” she announced at last. “But the brute handled you very roughly.”
    “I was fighting back,” I explained.
    “Of course.” She smiled affectionately. “She’ll be stiff and sore for a few days, Professor; I know you will make sure she doesn’t overdo.”
    Emerson was more than pleased to assist me with buttons and ribbons. He insisted on putting on my slippers for me, and as he knelt at my feet he presented such a touching picture of manly devotion that I could not resist brushing the thick black locks from his brow and pressing my lips to it. One thing led to another, and we were a trifle late going down for dinner.
    The children were in excellent spirits, particularly Lia, who could talk of nothing but our forthcoming voyage. I was amused to note that she was wearing one of Nefret’s embroidered robes and that she had arranged her hair in the same style as Nefret’s. It did not become her quite as well, but she looked very pretty, her cheeks pink with excitement and her eyes sparkling. The boys teased her a bit, warning her of snakes and mice and scorpions, and promising to defend her from those terrors.
    They were so merry together that I did not notice at first that the child’s parents were silent and ill at ease. My brother-in-law is a man I truly esteem: a loving husband and father, a loyal brother, and a scholar of exceptional ability. He is not very good at hiding his feelings, however, and I could tell something was bothering him. My dear Evelyn’s troubled gaze kept moving from her daughter to me and back again.
    They waited until after we had retired to the library for coffee before they broke the news. Walter began by informing Emerson that he had taken the liberty of reporting the incident to the police.
    “What incident?” Emerson demanded. “Oh. What did you do that for?”
    “Upon my word, Radcliffe, you take this very coolly!” Walter exclaimed. “A brutal attack on your wife—”
    Emerson slammed his cup into the saucer. Not much coffee was spilled, since