Read Online Silhouette in Scarlet by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online

off the noun. ‘I beg, dear girl, that you won’t shout. I believe I’ve lost him, but one can never take too
many precautions.’
    ‘Who is “him”?’ I inquired. I spoke softly. I didn’t want to attract ‘his’ attention either.
    A less subtle comedian might have made some stupid joke about grammar. John just brushed the voluminous hair back from his face and grinned. I understood the necessity for the fluffy blouse; he
was no weight lifter, but his biceps could never have passed for a woman’s, and his shoulders were broad enough to require camouflage. And, as I studied his pensive profile, I also understood
the dark makeup.
    ‘I see you’ve already had a little set-to with him,’ I said.
    Wincingly John touched the bruise on his jaw. There were others around his throat, almost hidden by the ruffles.
    ‘You needn’t sound so pleased. He caught me off guard. It won’t happen again.’
    ‘I’ll bet. Who is “him”?’
    ‘No one you’d care to meet, and no one you need worry about. It’s a private matter. Nothing to do with the present – er – ’
    ‘Swindle,’ I suggested.
    ‘Matter. Affair?’ He turned an inquiring, amused blue eye in my direction.
    ‘You’re not my type,’ I said. ‘Particularly not in that outfit. How you’d have the gall to think I’d fall for your machinations again, after –
’
    ‘Keep your voice down. I admit I owe you an explanation about Paris – ’
    ‘And a lot of other things.’
    ‘And a lot of other things. But this isn’t the time or the place. Though I’m ninety-nine per cent certain that my friend doesn’t want to kill anyone except me –
’
    ‘There is that one per cent,’ I said apprehensively.
    ‘There is. And where you are concerned, my heart’s dearest, those odds are too high. I’ll drop in this evening, around midnight. Three knocks, then a pause, then two
knocks.’
    I started to say something sarcastic, but he looked so ridiculous pawing at his hair, with those preposterous breasts jutting out at an impossible angle as he bent over the case, that my sense
of humour got the better of me. I didn’t want him to see me laugh, so I turned and sat down on one of the velvet-covered couches surrounding the pièce de résistance, the case
containing the chalice.
    ‘What are you going to look like next time I see you?’ I asked.
    John sat down beside me. ‘Not like this. I’ve already shaved twice today, and my skin is quite sensitive.’
    ‘You make a very pretty girl.’
    ‘I knew you were going to say that. What’s your room number?’
    ‘First tell me what this friend of yours looks like.’
    Half a lifetime of eluding the law had made John quick at catching undertones. He turned so abruptly that I jumped. My purse slid off my lap and spilled half its contents onto the floor.
    ‘Have you acquired a friend too?’ he asked intently.
    ‘I may have.’
    ‘Medium height, heavy-set, brown hair and beard, horn-rimmed glasses?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Sure? He could have shaved the beard – ’
    ‘No chance. Mine is blond, seven feet tall.’
    ‘Hmmm. Do I perchance scent a rival?’
    ‘Definitely. Speaking of scent, what is that perfume?’
    ‘Like it?’ John turned a ruffled shoulder to me and batted his eyelashes. They weren’t false. His eyelashes are one of his best features, and he knows it.
    ‘Love it.’
    ‘Then I know what to get you for your birthday. Gather up your gear and get lost, darling. I’ll see you tonight.’
    ‘But I want to know – ’
    ‘Later.’ He began picking up my scattered possessions. Instead of kneeling, he moved in a shuffling squat – afraid to dirty the knees of his white slacks, I suppose. I was
about to join the pursuit when all of a sudden he went absolutely rigid. His knees hit the floor. Stiff as a marble statue of a supplicant he knelt, staring at the papers he held.
    During the course of our Roman adventure I had seen John face assorted perils – guns, dogs, maniacal