“Ain’t he adorable?” Punch laughed as he dangled Scaramouche in front of himself.
“In a ferocious kind of way,” Julian grinned.
“Here, what are you doin’ back in here, Master?” Mr. Punch asked. “I figured once you got out, you’d want to spend some time with our chums, you would.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” Julian said as he stepped closer to Punch. “However, given the fact that we were administered a rather strong sedative tonic, I’m quite surprised that I lasted as long as I did before falling asleep.”
“True,” Punch nodded. “I’d not thought of that, but I guess it were your anger what kept you alert.”
“Anger has a way of interrupting everything else, doesn’t it?” Julian sighed as he peered at the continually wriggling miniature Scaramouche.
“Until you take the wind from its sails.” Punch laughed. “Then, it’s just a little nothin’.”
“Indeed.” Julian nodded.
“I heard what you were sayin’ to Robert.” Mr. Punch said softly. “Coo! I didn’t know you could raise such a fuss. It were real nice to hear.”
“Thank you,” Julian smiled. “It seems to have served its purpose.”
“What should we do with him?” Punch asked. “Maybe we ought to lock him up somewhere. Pity there ain’t a cabinet in here like what you used to keep me in back when we was a Fallbridge Hall. Here, you still got that wee key what Naasir gave ya? Maybe we can open up that cupboard in the wall where the memories live.”
“It’s an intriguing idea, dear Punch,” Julian nodded again. “However, it may not solve the problem.”
“Whatever do you mean, Master?” Punch asked. “When somethin’s bad, you lock it away. True? Look at Iolanthe. She were bad and they put her in a cage. So, why not do the same to Scaramouche? He’s a bad one, he is.”
“He’s only as bad as we allow him to be. Locking him away and trying to ignore him—or forget about him—might just be what allowed him to get as big and fierce as he was.”
“Oh, like hatchin’ an egg.” Punch nodded. “Before you know it, you got a chicken what’s peckin’ at your guts.”
“Something like that.” Robert said. “Certainly, that’s a decidedly more colorful way of phrasing it.”
Scaramouche chirped and groaned, still hanging from Mr. Punch’s pinch.
“I think, Punch, we should let him roam free in here. We can keep watch on him and make sure that he only gets smaller and weaker. Perhaps, one day, he’ll disappear.” Julian explained.
“I ‘spose.” Punch frowned.
“Besides, dear Punch, when the time comes for us to awaken, it’ll be you who manages the body. So, I’ll be the one who’s in here with him most of the time.”
“You ain’t goin’ back out?”
“I don’t think so.” Julian shook his head. “Not for now. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No!” Punch smiled. “I’m glad to do it.”
“I think it’s time to drop him,” Julian winked, pointing to Scaramouche. “Let him scurry off an nurse his wounds. We’ll keep an eye on him.”
“As you wish,” Punch shrugged, letting Scaramouche’s newly tiny body fall to the floor. He squeaked as he landed and skittered off like a rodent.
Punch laughed heartily.
“Well done, Punch.” Julian sighed. “Well done.”
Meanwhile, Robert and Cecil were chatting in the back parlor. Barbara Allen had wisely left the brothers to discuss all of the many matters that plagued their family. Their intimate chat was interrupted by a knock on the front door.
Cecil shook his head. “Meridian will send whoever it is away.”
But, she didn’t. Within seconds, Meridian was entering the back parlor.
“Trouble’s knockin’, Sir.” Meridian groaned as she opened the door.
“Which one?” Robert asked.
“Don’t tell me that Marie Laveau dares to come to this house!” Cecil spat.
“Not that smart.” Meridian shook her head. “It’s Arthur and his friend.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-263? If so, you can read them here.
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