“Yes.”
“I see. All right,” he said. “Are you feeling better now?”
“I will soon,” she’d told him unsteadily. “I have a broken wrist but—but the purpose of the trip was salvaged, and somewhere out there, heading for the mountains—I’m sorry, Bishop,” she’d said, her voice breaking again, “I’m just so tired. And those mountains—”
“It had to be the mountains?”
“He thought so, yes, but the most important message right now is Forbes, Bishop, and whoever—well, betrayed you.”
There had been a long pause and then Bishop said, “We’ve got to get you home as quickly as possible. I’ll immediately get in touch with the airlines and demand top priority passage for you. In the meantime, however, we’ll start things rolling at once on Forbes, with all the repercussions that will bring, for which our eternal thanks, Mrs. Pollifax. Obviously our man in you-know-where is no longer ours.”
“No,” she said, and then, “Could you, when you learn on what plane I’ll be returning, let Cyrus know in Connecticut?”
“Gladly,” he said and he, too, rang off.
Several hours later she had been on her way to the airport, and she had been deeply touched by the fact that Iris and Malcolm insisted on accompanying her to the air terminal. They had parted warmly, with promises to write, and before moving through the electronic gate she had turned to watch them go—both so tall and slim, Iris still pushing back her tempestuous hair—and she had seen that they were holding hands.
It had occurred to her at that moment—suddenly and with sadness—that Jenny would now feel that Iris had captured the last man on the tour: first George, then seemingly Peter and seemingly Joe Forbes, and now Malcolm, and she would never know the truth.
As so few of us ever do, she thought, and walked through the gate to fly home to Cyrus.
* * *
It was a small and private wedding: Mrs. Pollifax’s son, Roger, and her daughter, Jane; Miss Hartshorne; a few members of her Garden Club, and a few members of Cyrus’ bird-watching club. Bishop had called to announce that wild horses and assassinations abroad wouldn’t keep him away. “Besides,” he’d added on the phone, “Carstairs is entrusting me with a wedding gift that he thinks you may like and it’s too fragile to mail.”
The day was very warm—it was late August, after all—but the chapel was cool. Cyrus, giving her an enormous hug, said, “It’s a promise—wander off any time you please, Emily, but damn it, m’dear, never again without me.”
“Never,” she vowed fervently.
There was a slight delay while the organist searched frantically for a missing sheet of music; they waited patiently in the small room near the rear of the chapel until it became apparent that a mild commotion was taking place outside the door.
Cyrus opened it and Mrs. Pollifax heard Bishop’s voice say, “Hello there, from the size of you I think you have to be Cyrus?”
Mrs. Pollifax spun around and cried, “Bishop! Oh do come in!”
He stuck his head inside the door. “It’s me, bringing your wedding present. Everybody decent and ready?”
And he walked in, followed by a young man on crutches, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a broad grin.
“Peter!” cried Mrs. Pollifax.
“Yes,” he said, beaming at her.
His face was burned from overexposure, there was a clownlike white paste daubed on his nose, his jaw was peeling, and there was that crutch that he leaned on as he moved toward her. But he was alive. He was well. He’d survived.
“Thank God,” she whispered. “Oh Cyrus—Cyrus, this is—”
“No need to say,” remarked Cyrus. “It’s Peter, of course. Hello young man.”
“Told her to marry you,” Peter said, with a grin.
Cyrus nodded. “She’ll be able to sleep nights now, young man … No more nightmares.”
So Cyrus had guessed, Cyrus had known. Hugging Peter, her eyes filled with tears, she reached out and groped for Cyrus’ hand and then with her other hand she reached for Bishop’s too.…
With special thanks to David Ownby, China guide, for sharing his knowledge of the country, and for his translations and advice.
By Dorothy Gilman
Published by Fawcett Books:
UNCERTAIN VOYAGE
A NUN IN THE CLOSET
THE CLAIRVOYANT COUNTESS
THE TIGHTROPE WALKER
INCIDENT AT BADAMY
CARAVAN
THE BELLS OF FREEDOM
THE MAZE IN THE HEART OF THE CASTLE
GIRL IN BUCKSKIN
THALE’S FOLLY
KALEIDOSCOPE
The Mrs. Pollifax series
THE UNEXPECTED MRS. POLLIFAX
THE AMAZING MRS. POLLIFAX
THE ELUSIVE MRS. POLLIFAX
A PALM FOR MRS. POLLIFAX
MRS. POLLIFAX ON SAFARI
MRS. POLLIFAX ON THE CHINA STATION
MRS. POLLIFAX AND THE HONG KONG BUDDHA
MRS. POLLIFAX AND THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE
MRS. POLLIFAX AND THE WHIRLING DERVISH
MRS. POLLIFAX AND THE SECOND THIEF
MRS. POLLIFAX PURSUED
MRS. POLLIFAX AND THE LION KILLER
MRS. POLLIFAX, INNOCENT TOURIST
MRS. POLLIFAX UNVEILED
Nonfiction
A NEW KIND OF COUNTRY
MYSTERY
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Mrs. Pollifax on the China Station Page 20
