Giovanni grinned and sat on Punch’s bed.
Mr. Punch straightened his back and narrowed his eyes at Giovanni, affecting his best imitation of Julian’s voice.
“Suddenly, you’re borrowing your behavior from Mr. Dickens?” Punch asked, his dialect a perfect reproduction of Julian’s soft, mannered speech and pronunciation. “What am I to believe? Am I now Ebenezer Scrooge and you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come? How very literary, we are. But, isn’t this tactic a tad passé? Such theatrics owe more to ten years ago than they do 1853.”
Robert looked curiously at Mr. Punch, for a moment, thinking that Julian had reemerged from the depths of their shared psyche. Still, despite Punch’s excellent affectation, he was not fooled—concluding that Mr. Punch had hoped that a more formal, aristocratic behavior would somehow intimidate the man who seemed to take such delight in menacing them.
Still, Giovanni said nothing.
“At some point,” Mr. Punch continued, still acting as the Duke, “you’re going to have to speak. I’m not a reader of minds, and, truly, you’ll find that this will reach a more expedient and satisfactory conclusion if you only communicate what it is exactly that you want.”
Giovanni just grinned.
“Have you come to murder us?” Punch asked. “If so, you’d best get on with it. You’ll find that the threat of death does not faze me. I’ve been so close to death lo these many years that I’m too familiar with it to fear it. In my heart, I have already died a thousand times. When my life does pass, I shall great the Reaper as an old friend and embrace him. So, your silent threats have no effect on me.”
Again, Giovanni was silent.
“Well, at least our unwelcomed guest is comfortable.” Mr. Punch sighed—a bit of his own voice creeping into his speech. He corrected himself quickly.
“What is it that you want?” Punch continued. “You have already stated that you’ve not come for the child. That’s all the better since you’ll never get him. So, what is it? Money? Gold? I’ve little else to offer. I have no authority to speak of. No power. I’m not involved with politics and my association with the Crown is purely a personal one with underpinnings of business. If you think I can secure an audience with Her Majesty for you, you’re mistaken. All I have is money and property. If any of it would please you, just say so and I’ll offer it to you so that we may have some peace. In fact, there’s a fine case of jewels just in that wardrobe. You’re welcome to it, if only it would hasten your departure.”
“Why does he speak this way?” Giovanni said finally, looking at Robert.
“How else should he speak?” Robert replied.
“Like himself.” Giovanni growled, his accent thick. “Now he talks as a proper man. Where is his comic voice like a ruffian?”
“You should be more concerned with your own speech,” Robert sighed.
“Coo!” Punch yelped, casting aside his pantomime of the Duke. He shook his head. “I’m gonna have to hit him on the head, Chum. Can we fit ‘im through the window there? Push ‘im right into the sea, we will. The sea monsters will feed on his blood.”
“No.” Robert mumbled. “We can’t fit him through the porthole. And, you won’t be striking him. I’ve already injured this man once; let me finish what I started.”
“You both speak of killing me, yet, you don’t know why I’m here?” Giovanni laughed. “That seems uneven, yes?”
“No.” Punch scrunched up his nose, or, to be more accurate, Julian’s nose. “You killed me pa, you did. As far as I can see, you earned a beatin’.”
“Would the two of you please sit?” Giovanni asked. “I simply wish to propose something which might benefit all of us.”
“You’ve had a chance to do so.” Robert hissed. “And, yet, you tried to intimidate us with your damned silence. Now you must answer for it!”
Before Robert could say or do anything more, the cabin door burst open and Pete—the man who had protected Marjani, Columbia and Gamilla below-decks, lumbered into the room, towering over all of them. He was followed by three of the other men who had assisted him below.
“Here!” Punch gasped.
“Marjani sent me.” Pete nodded.
“What?” Robert shook his head.
“You the Duke?” Pete asked Robert.
“No.” Robert replied, startled.
“He?” Pete pointed to Punch.
“Yes.” Robert nodded.
“Who dat?” Pete asked.
“An intruder.” Robert responded.
“He’s bad, yeah?” Pete asked.
“Yes.” Robert nodded again.
“Fine.” Pete staggered over to Giovanni, picking up by his armpits and raising him off of the bed.
Giovanni wriggled, but could not break Pete’s grip.
“Where you fellas want him?” Pete smiled.
Did you miss Chapters 1-457? If so, you can read them here.
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