Oh, she’d been there, all right. There wasn’t any doubt about that. Every surface of the cell was covered with handwriting, scratched with a sharp stone. You couldn’t mistake the Cat’s hand—she wrote with big bold letters, probably because she was half blind.
You couldn’t mistake the language, either. Pure Cat. The Trio were positively awestruck.
“Never seen sech command of y’profanity,” marveled Geronimo Jerry.
“Genius, genius, th’Cat,” whispered Erlic, in tones you usually hear in a church.
” ‘Tis not alone th’mastery o’ the curse,” admired McDoul, “but th’beauty o’ th’anatom’cal depictions—an’ th’lass ne’er repeated herself the onc’t! Imposs’ble, o’ course, th’most o’ th’acts ascribed to th’Judge—but th’imagination! Ne’er could’ve thought o’ th’half o’ them, m’self.”
It was true enough. They’d gagged the Cat at the trial, but she’d wiled away her time in the cell completing her speech. He’d chosen the wrong time to say it, but you couldn’t deny that O’Neal had been right. The Cat was not ladylike.
So, she’d been there, all right. But where was she now? It was a complete and total mystery.
It took me two hours, but I finally convinced Greyboar that we didn’t have any choice but to leave. The Cat was gone, the Old Geister knew where, when or how, and that was that. Wouldn’t do any good for us to linger around and get caught.
So we left, not without the strangler moaning and groaning and running back, oh, maybe two hundred times, to make sure the Cat hadn’t magically reappeared. Once in the Cardinal’s bedchamber, we waited while the dwarves sealed up the entrance in the closet so as to leave no trace of the tunnel. Then, the three of them crammed themselves into the chest—that was how we’d planned on taking the Cat out, of course—and we left the mansion.
Getting out was a piece of cake, even with us carrying the extra chest with the treasure. During our stay in the Cardinal’s quarters, the servants had had plenty of time to terrify themselves with speculation about whatever horrid consultations were going on between the Cardinal and the Inquisition. As soon as they realized we were coming out, they disappeared. We marched through the mansion totally unobserved. We even had to let ourselves out.
Less than a day had passed. Sunrise was still just a hint on the horizon, so we made our way through the streets without being observed by anyone. Five minutes after leaving the Cardinal’s mansion we were going through the front door of the townhouse we’d rented. And discovered again that the Cat was a strange, strange woman.
Chapter 21.
Justice and Injustice
Because there she was, big as life—sitting in a chair in the
main room, casual as could be.
Greyboar charged over and clutched her like a drowning man clutches a life preserver. It was a touching scene. Or at least, it would have been, if the Cat hadn’t been furious with him.
I believe I’ve indicated she had quite the command of the earthier aspects of the language? Well, we were all given another demonstration.
The gist of her displeasure, stripped of the rhetoric, was: What was the big idea, you ape, this stupid rescue attempt? Have I ever asked for any help? No, and you’ll never see the day I do, either. I am not pleased. Indeed, I am displeased. Most displeased. Most extremely displeased.
It wasn’t often you got to see the strangler groveling and apologizing and begging for forgiveness, let me tell you. He was usually on the other side of the equation, don’t you know? I loved every minute of it and so did the Trio. Not that we didn’t keep a straight face, mind you. If Greyboar’d seen us grinning ear to ear, he wouldn’t have done anything about it. Not at the moment. But the Trio and I were students of the wise man, not the least of whose saws is: “Idiots never remember the fatal word—later.”
Eventually, the Cat was appeased. She even relented enough to give Greyboar a big kiss. Naturally, the big dummy immediately blew it.
“But how’d you get out of the cell?” he asked.
That started another round of the Cat’s—what can I call it? Swearing doesn’t begin to do the woman justice. Whatever, the gist of it was: You unspeakable (actually, this part was full of speech) great baboon, you know I hate being cooped up. Think there’s a box in the world can keep me in? That’s what Schrödinger thought, too. I left, that’s how I got out. You stupid (well, and then on and on and on).