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“Dead,” said Xemerius, finishing the sentence that Mr. George had left tactfully hanging in the air. “To be honest, you certainly looked dead. And that boy was beside himself. Yelling for vein clamps and stammering all sorts of other confused stuff. And shedding buckets of tears. What are you staring at?”
This last remark was for little Robert, who was gazing at Xemerius, fascinated. “He’s so cute. May I stroke him?”
“Not if you want to keep your hand, kid,” said Xemerius. “It’s bad enough having that perfumed coxcomb there thinking I’m a cat all the time.”
“Oh, really. Cats don’t have wings. I know that perfectly well,” cried James, with his eyes still shut tight. “You’re a cat out of my fevered dreams. A degenerate cat.”
“One more word, and I’ll eat you,” said Xemerius.
Gideon had taken a couple of steps away and dropped into a chair. He took off his wig, ran all his fingers through his dark hair, and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t understand it,” he said indistinctly through his fingers.
I felt just the same. How could this be possible? I mean, I’d just died, and now here I was feeling alive and well again! Can you imagine a thing like that? I looked down at the injury that Dr. White was treating. He was right—it really was just a scratch. The cut I’d given myself with the vegetable knife had been far longer and hurt much more.
Gideon’s face surfaced from his hands again. How green his eyes were in his pale face! I remembered the last thing I’d heard him say, and once again I tried to sit up, but Dr. White wouldn’t let me.
“Can someone please take this unspeakable wig off her?” he said brusquely. Several hands at once began taking the hairpins out, and it was a wonderful feeling to be free of the wig again.
“Careful, Marley,” warned Falk de Villiers. “Remember Madame Rossini!”
“Yes, sir,” stammered Mr. Marley, almost dropping the wig in alarm. “Madame Rossini, sir.”
Mr. George took the hairpins out of my hair, and gently undid the braid. “Better like that?” he asked. Yes, it was much better.
“Curlylocks, Curlylocks, wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash dishes nor yet feed the swine,” sang Xemerius in a silly voice. “Your hair’s a mess—pity you don’t have a hat, that’s the answer to a bad hair day. Oh, I’m so glad you’re still alive and I don’t have to look for a new human. It’s making me talk nonsense! Curlylocks, indeed.”
Little Robert giggled.
“Can I look now?” asked James, but he didn’t wait for an answer. After one glance at me, he closed his eyes again. “Upon my word! It really is Miss Gwyneth. Forgive me for not recognizing you when that young dandy carried you past my niche just now.” He sighed. “That in itself was odd enough. You never see people properly dressed in this house now.”
Mr. Whitman put an arm around Gideon’s shoulders. “What exactly happened, my boy? Were you able to give the count our message? And did he give you instructions for the next meeting?”
“Oh, get him a whisky and leave him in peace for a few minutes,” growled Dr. White, sticking two small strips of plaster over my wound. “He’s in shock.”
“No. No, I’m fine,” murmured Gideon. He cast another quick glance at me, then took the sealed letter from his coat pocket and handed it to Falk.
“Come along,” said Mr. Whitman. He helped Gideon to his feet and led him to the door. “There’s a bottle of whisky up in the principal’s office. And a sofa in case you want to lie down for a while.” He looked around. “Coming with us, Falk?”
“Certainly,” said Falk. “I hope old Gilles has enough whisky for us all up there.” He turned to the others. “And don’t take Gwyneth home in that bedraggled state, is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear, sir,” Mr. Marley assured him. “Clear as day, if I may say so.”
Falk cast his eyes upward. “No one’s stopping you,” he said, and then he, Mr. Whitman, and Gideon disappeared through the doorway.
* * *
IT WAS MR. BERNARD’S evening off, so Caroline opened the door to let me in. She was talking nineteen to the dozen. “Charlotte’s been trying on her elf costume for the party, it’s ever so beautiful, and she was going to let me pin the wings on, but then Aunt Glenda said I must go and wash my hands first because she was sure I’d been petting dirty animals again—”
She got no farther, because I grabbed her and hugged her so tightly that she could hardly breathe.
“That’s right, go on, squash her!” said Xemerius, flying into the house after me. “Your mum can always get another little girl if you hug this one to death.”
“My darling, sweet, dearest, cute little sister,” I was murmuring into Caroline’s hair, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh, I love you so much!”
“Okay, I love you too, but you’re blowing into my ear,” said Caroline, cautiously wriggling free. “Come on, we’re in the middle of supper. There’s going to be chocolate cake from the Hummingbird Bakery for dessert.”
“Oh, I love, love, love chocolate devil’s food cake!” I cried. “And I love life that gives us such wonderful things!”
“Aren’t you overdoing it a bit? Anyone would think you’d just been having electric shock treatment.” Xemerius sneezed grouchily.
