“Hello, Edgar. How goes your endeavors of rape and pillage? Been busy have you? I imagine your work to be piling up now that you’re down a partner. Your nephew, was it? You know. The one who—raped—my—daughter!” John had difficulty keeping the lethal venom from lacing his words.
Pellton shook his head and emitted a muffled, “No, John.”
“Shut up!” Tom kicked him in the ribs. “You’re going to listen and not talk.”
“Back to your nephew, Edgar.” John forced himself to take on an instructive tone of voice. “I think we should talk about him, don’t you? I heard he’s gone missing. You must be beside yourself with worry over him. The poor lad. I wonder what’s happened to him?”
Pellton cringed and closed his eyes.
“Do you take The London Times, Edgar? I would imagine you do, being a peer of the realm and all. It is de rigueur for a man such as yourself, I suppose.”
John turned up the flame on the interior lamp so he could see and held up a newspaper. He gave it a sharp crack.
“There was the most intriguing article today. Well, it wasn’t even an article really. More of a snippet. And I had to search carefully to find it being those inconsiderate newsmen at The Times crammed it out of the way and down at the bottom of page thirteen.”
John cleared his throat.
“Let’s see what it says, shall we, Edgar?”
Pellton whimpered like a baby. Tom kicked him on his other side.
“‘Defiled Body Dumped at Sea.’ That’s the title line, Edgar. Shall I read more?”
Silent sobs came from Pellton on the floor.
John scanned the article before flinging the paper to his lap in theatrical disgust. “Good God! This is downright revolting! What has the world come to? I am sure I do not know! It says here, a man’s body was found in the Channel by fishermen yesterday morn. Dark hair, average height, wearing no identification except for a red waistcoat with the initials S.S. sewn inside. They estimate the poor creature had been in the water for a fo
rtnight in the least, near frozen for the cold temperatures.”
Pellton grew quiet, his sobbing ceased. He was listening.
John continued to make his point to his enemy. “Good, Edgar. I am glad you are paying attention to the story. I’m about to get to the interesting part. The paper says his body was defiled, and I quote, ‘The male genitalia had been cut off and the anus impaled with a staff of wood.’” He set the paper down on his lap.
“Ouch.” Tom whistled. “That couldn’t have felt nice.” Tom peered at Pellton on the floor. “In fact, it must have been gawd-awfully painful. To think that this S.S. person had to sit there while they cut off his cock and balls and then get buggered up the arse with a sharp stick! Shit, I think a fellow would bloody well want to die after all that!”
“Language, Tom,” John admonished his son.
“Apologies, Pater.” Tom shook his head. “Still, this S.S. must have made some terrible enemies to have wound up fish feed and minus his Nebuchadnezzar.”
“Yes, son, you are right about that.” John turned to Pellton. “What do you think, Edgar? Do you agree with Tom that S.S. made some vengeful enemies?”
Pellton nodded his head up and down. He now had a dark stain at the front of his trousers.
“I am glad we are of a like mind on this, Edgar, because it is very important that you understand the lengths that fathers and brothers and husbands will go to avenge their womenfolk.”
John rapped on the roof to signal Ned.
“I am afraid this visit is nearing its end, Edgar. My son and I are engaged this evening—a Christmas party with my daughter and her good husband’s family. In fact, we must fly in order to be punctual. There will be fifty people there at least. Peers, politicians, the crème of society, all witness to our attendance this night.”
The carriage turned a corner and slowed.
“Sorry, Edgar, but you are not invited to the party. You must get busy packing, my friend. Well, not really my friend anymore. I guess you never were my friend, or you wouldn’t have conspired to hurt my daughter and devise evil abuse on her. My Anne was wise to you, Edgar. She saw right through your thin veneer of gentility straight in to the vile poison that pumps from your monstrous heart. Anne hated you, and she loved me.”
The carriage pulled to a stop.
“If you make it through this night alive, Edgar, do go home and pack your things. Leave England and never return. I mean this in all truthful sincerity. If you ever set foot on British soil again, your fate will be similar to what this unfortunate S.S. knew. Remember the words of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Edgar, ‘Pray you avoid it.’”
Pellton’s eyes bulged in disbelief as he comprehended the threat.