“Oh?”
“That’s the impression I got from Mother, though she didn’t relay the messages word for word.”
“Oh!”
“Will there be anything else?”
“No. Go ahead and call it a night, Beek. It’s been quite a day … for all of us.”
“Indeed it has, sir.
“Good night, Beeker.”
There was no response.
Strange. Usually his butler was quite fastidious about such social pleasantries.
Mildly puzzled, Phule opened his eyes to discover Beeker still in attendance, but looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.
“Something bothering you, Beek?”
“Well, sir … you know I rarely pry or question your actions, but …”
The butler hesitated, as if at a loss for words.
“Yes, what is it?”
“In your bout this evening … I mean, I’ve watched you fence in competitions before, sir, and flatter myself to think I know something of your abilities and style …
Beeker’s voice trailed off again.
“And?” Phule urged.
“And … for my own curiosity, you understand, and in strictest confidence … I was wondering … Well, sir … did you throw your bout? Deliberately fence for the tie, I mean?”
Phule exhaled a long breath, closing his eyes and sinking deeper into the tub before answering.
“No, I didn’t, Beek. I thought about it … that’s why I let him pull up even instead of finishing him off when I got the lead … but I chickened out at the end. If I could have been sure of the tie, I would have gone for it, but it would have been chancy at best. In the final analysis, I decided I didn’t have the right to risk the company’s success on a gamble, so on the final touch I was genuinely going for the win. The way it turned out-getting the tie I really wanted-was pure luck, nothing else.”