The Serpent's Shadow

that he was trying to keep 'control' of her was the wrong one to give at this moment. 'But do go on—that wasn't the whole thought. You're much wiser than he is. I suspect you can calculate exactly what he'll think and do long before he knows his own mind, so long as you distance yourself and look at it as an intellectual problem.'

That's the ticket to restore her confidence; get her to think logically again.

Her brow furrowed deeply, but this time it was in thought. 'Yes, he thinks any woman in trouble must run to a male, I'm sure, since he can't imagine a woman depending on herself—I don't have a father to run to—so I'll run to a lover!' She flushed again, but this time there was triumph mixed with the embarrassment. 'And when I do that, he'll know who that lover is! He'll want revenge, and revenge not just on me!'

'My thought precisely.' Peter nodded. 'So what you need to do is to throw him off guard entirely. You don't want to avoid him. That will give him a taste of satisfaction, which will only make things worse for you. Now, you know him better than I, so what possible way could you act toward him that would confuse him, rather than angering him?'

'What do you mean?' she asked, wrinkling her nose in puzzlement.

'You aren't going to hide from him, so how will you act when you have to greet him?' he replied. 'For instance—oh, you could treat him with the same kind of gentle condescension you would a naughty, but feeble- minded child.'

'That would puzzle him then, but it would infuriate him later,' she objected. 'But I do see what you mean. Oh, I wish I knew more about him—I think the reason he's about the hospital so much is because he's up to something, but I don't know what it is.'

Peter laughed. 'Never mind, you don't have to! That's the jolly thing about having to outwit someone like him, with things to hide. All you have to do is throw out a vague hint and his own mind will fill it all in. He'll be certain you know what he's been up to! And that's our key, and the place where Almsley can help us out, because Almsley is welcome in every sort of social circle, and he knows exactly the kind of person we need to help us out. A high- ranking churchman.'

'A what?' she asked, now completely lost.

'A high-ranking churchman. Someone important, as high as a bishop by preference.' The plan all fell into place now, and Peter was as delighted with it as a child with a new toy, and just as eager to share it with his chosen playmate. 'Firstly, we need to establish you in Doctor Clayton-Smythe's eyes as not only completely above reproach, but as someone to whom Clayton-Smythe is indebted. Now what does a hospital need above all else?'

'Money,' she replied instantly. 'Always money. And I think I can see where you are taking this; high-ranking churchmen are in charge of a great deal of charitable money and have access to people who can supply a great deal more if pressed. I already know that Clayton-Smythe wants money for a larger charity ward; it will make him look so very admirable and high-minded. Having a bigger hospital makes him look more important. He might even get that knighthood he's been hoping for.'

'For that matter, being able to refer to a bishop familiarly will appeal to his vanity as well,' Peter pointed out. 'So Almsley will find us one of his tame churchmen who is currently feeling the need to feed the sheep. You'll have tea with the dear old gent, talk about your experiences in India with your father, charm him, then point out that the need right here in London is just as great, if not greater, than in India. You will be the one to take the gentleman around the hospital, then turn him over to Clayton-Smythe like a good little girl. I will arrange for Parkening to be there at the same time.'

She shook her head a little, but only in puzzlement. 'I don't know how you'll manage that.'

'Well, I won't, Almsley will,' Peter amended. 'Don't worry, he'll do it. Your job will then be to stay with Clayton-Smythe and the padre until you run into him. Then you go to work on Parkening with your hints.'

Puzzlement became understanding, then matured to what was definitely a variety of unholy glee. 'Yes,' she said simply. 'I think I can do that.'

The bishop was a much wiser and kinder man than Maya had expected; she had the feeling from the twinkling in his eyes that Peter Almsley had told him something of the truth about the situation, and also that he wouldn't have betrayed her for the world. And what was completely unexpected and delightful, he and her father had been at both the same public school and at Oxford. Not in the same college; that would have been too much to expect—but the bishop knew her father at a distance at least, and was able to tell her one or two anecdotes about Roger Witherspoon's misspent youth among Oxford's hearty gamesmen. By the time they went off to the hospital, he felt like an old family friend.

Clayton-Smythe had tried to be rid of her twice, but the bishop had managed to somehow dismiss the effort without Clayton-Smythe noticing—and now the Head was convinced that having her along on the tour was his idea.

'Doctor Witherspoon is an immense asset to the Poor Children's ward,' he was saying, with a kind of too- hearty condescension that made her grit her teeth. 'The woman's touch, don't you know. Little b—babies aren't afraid of a strange woman the way they are of a strange man, of course. And the young woman that's her protegee is a positive genius with 'em; she'll be a fine children's doctor in time.'

'That would be my friend Miss Amelia Drew,' Maya said helpfully. 'She's studying at the London School of Medicine for Women. Her teachers all expect her to earn her medical degree within the coming year.' She looked earnestly up at the bishop and the Head, clasping her hands together as if in entreaty as she noticed Simon