Robert’s manservant had set a small fire inthe corner stove to take the night chill off, and Marc had justwalked over to dampen it down when he heard a sharp cry. It hadcome from next door, and sounded as if someone had jabbed somethingsharp into Clement Peachey. Marc ran out into the hall. The cry hadevolved into a string of oaths, none of them complimentary. Marcopened Clement’s door and went in.
“What happened?” Marc said, but already theanxiety had gone out of his voice. Peachey was not injured. In facthe had not risen from his desk. He was holding aloft what appearedto be the firm’s seal, the one used to press hot wax onto the manyofficial documents and letters he dealt with daily. He was glaringat it as if it had of its own accord chosen to alter its shape. Heglanced up at Marc, scowled, then looked down at the documentbefore him. Marc could see what might have been shards of clearglass scattered over it.
“Macaroons,” Peachey said bleakly. “Some damnfool glued bits of macaroon to my seal!”
Uncle Seamus had struck early.
***
It took Marc five minutes to get Peachey to cooldown and even longer to have him see the comic side of UncleSeamus’s prank. Robert was never far from a bowl of macaroons. Somewags at court referred to the firm as Macaroon and Sullivan. Thatits seal, its “coat of arms,” should include the macaroon couldwell be seen as both fitting and funny.
“That’s all very well, Marc, but we’ve got abusiness to run. While the two Roberts are off playing politics,it’s me here and you in court who keep the firm solvent. TellSeamus Baldwin for me that I don’t intend to let any frivolousprankster loose in here amongst my papers and files. I do have asense of humour, but it has no place in a law office!”
That may be the most appropriate place forit, was Marc’s thought, but he said, “I just heard Robert godown to his chamber. Uncle Seamus may be with him. I’ll sort thismatter out right now.”
Marc left Peachey picking macaroon shards offthe company seal and started down towards Robert’s office.
“What the Sam hell!” It was Robert, his voiceraised to an unaccustomed level. He never swore, but was obviouslycoming close to doing so.
Robert’s outcry was followed by a hugeguffaw.
Marc stepped into the room to find Robertwith his wooden macaroon bowl clinging, it appeared, to all five ofthe outstretched fingers of his left hand.
“Gotcha!” Uncle Seamus roared, and clappedhis hands to his belly. The old gentleman was impeccably turned outin his finest suit. Extra pomade and a centre-part had brought hissheaf of grey-white hair close to respectability. His boots hadbeen polished till they bled. But nothing could really be done todisguise the gnome’s body or the impish dance of his blue eyes. Thedeep wrinkles of his troll-like features were contorted now into amost unlawyerly grin.
“Molasses!” Robert sputtered at Marc. “He’sstuck my macaroons to the bowl and poured molasses around them!They’re ruined!”
“It’s just a jest,” Uncle Seamus said whenhis laughter had subsided somewhat. “How many times have I seen youreach into your bowl blindly with your left hand? The temptationwas just too great, nephew. You’ll have to excuse an old man’sfancy, eh?”
“I’ll have one of the girls bring you a toweland some water,” Marc said.
“Thanks, Marc. Otherwise I’d have to go nextdoor and clean up.”
“You can see the humour of it, can’tyou, Edwards?”
Marc could, but felt it impolitic to sayso.
“Was that a cry of woe and despair I heardcoming from Solicitor Peachey’s abode?” Uncle Seamus said, theimpish grin unfaded.
“I’m afraid that Clement did not see thehumour in the defacement of his seal,” Marc said.
“Good grief, Uncle, what have you done toPeachey?”
“More macaroons, I’m afraid,” Marc said.
“Spare me the details.” Robert looked upseverely at Uncle Seamus. “You promised father you’d behave,” hesaid as if he were speaking to a mischievous child. “We do needyour expertise in Clement’s office, you know. And yourexperience.”
“Ah, don’t fret, Robbie. ‘Tis only the firstday. I thought I’d introduce myself with a parlour trick or two.And you’ve got to admit, I pulled them off splendidly.”
“I’d better be careful where I put myfingers,” Marc said, letting his amusement show.
Uncle Seamus laughed, “I never repeat myself,lad.”
“I want you to promise, Uncle, that therewill be no repeats of any sort.”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But Idid promise to shoulder my weight in here, and I shall.”
“That’s all I can ask of you, then,” Robertsaid. Having removed the bowl from his fingertips, he was nowholding his sticky digits aloft and brushing the air with them.
“I’ll escort you down to meet Mr. Peachey,”Marc said. “You may need my protection.”
“I heard you were once a dashing youngsoldier,” Uncle Seamus said, “so I’ll feel more than safe with youat my side.”
“Off with you, then,” Robert saidaffectionately. “I’ve got to get ready for a trip toBrantford.”
Fifteen minutes later, Marc sat at his deskand prepared to begin his own day’s work. He had engineered asuccessful meeting between Clement and Uncle Seamus, with thelatter offering something that might have been interpreted as anapology, enough of one at any rate to effect a détente. Marchimself was careful not to rush blindly into any drawers orcrevices, but he seemed to have been spared the pleasure of anotherparlour trick. Perhaps Uncle Seamus would settle down. As far ashis family were concerned, this high-humoured impishness waspreferable to the depression he had suffered after his retirementand brought with him to the New World. And indeed these high jinksmight prove to be a necessary precursor to a healthier, morebalanced outlook on life. Certainly he would be loved here by thosearound him, and children obviously adored him.
Marc heard the housemaid who had broughttowels and hot water to Robert five minutes ago now retreating downthe hall towards the vestibule.
“Ow!” A squeal and then a giggle.
And then a guffaw.
My word, Marc thought, what have I gottenmyself into?
***
When Cobb got home shortly after seven that evening,Dora had a hot supper waiting for him. She and the children hadeaten theirs earlier. Delia was in the front room reading andFabian was outdoors playing in the last of the autumn light. Whichsuited Cobb just fine. He was bubbling with excitement over thepossibilities held out to him this morning by the Chief Constable,and although he took great pains to hide it, he was dying to reportthe good news. He had just finished his baked apple and wasclearing his throat to speak when Dora said:
“Hurry up and finish, Mister Cobb. I gotsomethin’ important to tell you.”
“It can wait, can’t it?”
“If it could, I wouldna said otherwise, nowwould I?”
“I suppose not.”
“Well, you suppose correct.”
Cobb sighed, and gave up. “What is it, then?I hope you ain’t gonna tell me no gory dee-tales about yerbaby business! You know the rules!”