'What sort of thing is that?' asked Margaret Handforth-Jones.
'West Coast dentistry? That's where all the big techniques are—the real high-powered technical gold work, and crown-and-bridge, and precision attachments, it's all done in the West. They think they're the best, and they probably are—technically.'
'You don't sound as though you approve,' said Sir Thomas. 'Yeah, well…' Mosby tailed off. It was a hell of a way-out thing to be discussing at this stage of the proceedings? and not at all what he'd expected.
'Go on,' urged Margaret, 'it sounds fascinating.' 'It does?' Mosby wondered at such politeness, but maybe it was the custom here to show an interest in one's guest's profession, even when it was a gruesome one like dentistry. 'Well, I think maybe I have a prejudice… but to my mind they ignore the underlying physiology and pathology. I mean, they take the teeth, which are solid substructures, and they build complex and beautiful bridge work, but they ignore the physiology of the living substances which are supporting these teeth. And I have a feeling—I've no real evidence, but it seems like common sense to me—that if you overload the teeth with this sort of very expensive treatment, then you could be playing tricks on your mouth and there'll be a price to pay at the end of it.'
'You mean the shortened life of the teeth themselves?' said Sir Thomas.
'You're absolutely right, that's exactly it. And I think—'
'Honey!' Shirley cut through his enthusiasm warningly. 'You're going to make everyone's teeth ache before you've finished, you know you are—' She smiled apologetically at the company. 'He has this
Which was true enough, reflected Mosby, aware suddenly that for one happy moment he'd forgotten who and where he was.
Anthony Price - Our man in camelot
'Then you really are a dentist?' said Handforth-Jones.
Mosby looked at him in surprise. 'Is there any reason why I shouldn't be?'
'No real reason at all. Very useful thing to be… much more useful than an archaeologist, as my wife will no doubt remind us all.' The archaeologist grinned amiably. 'We just didn't believe you were, that's all.'
'Why on earth not?' said Shirley.
'Oh, your husband isn't to blame,' Sir Thomas hastened to reassure her. 'It's more the company he keeps. We've learnt to have the gravest doubts about anything David puts his hand to.'
'David?' Shirley frowned. 'I don't get you.'
'Actually, it was King Arthur who made us suspicious, as much as David,' explained Handforth-Jones.
'The idea of David wanting to help anyone research Arthurian history—we just couldn't swallow that at all.'
'Why not?' asked Mosby.
'Not his cup of tea.' Handforth-Jones wagged a finger at Audley. 'I remember what you said about the South Cadbury excavation, the one that Sunday paper called 'The Camelot Dig'… It was in this very room—and you said to call it that almost qualified for prosecution under the Trade Descriptions Act.'
Audley shrugged. 'A man can always change his mind.'
'Not you, David, not you,' said Margaret.
'I'm always open to conversion, Maggie. You're not being fair.'
'Fair?' Margaret echoed the word derisively. 'Why, you're the most unconvertible man I know—the original Doubting
Thomas. 'Show me the marks of the nails' ought to be your family motto.'
Mosby sensed, rather than actually saw, Sir Thomas stiffen.
'Ye-ess… the marks of the nails,' Sir Thomas repeated the phrase slowly to himself. 'If I taught you anything years ago it was to be sceptical, and that was a lesson you learnt almost too well… Which does raise an alternative possibility. And a much more interesting one, don't you think, Tony?'
Handforth-Jones met the glance. 'An alternative?' His eye in turn switched first to Audley, then to Mosby, then back to Audley again. It was like watching a chemical reaction. 'Yes, I take your point. It could be a case of 'What has it got in its pocketses?' And that would be much more interesting. More logical, too.'
'Are we playing some sort of game?' asked Shirley.
'They're always playing games of one sort or another,' said Margaret. 'What sort of game are you playing now, darling?'
'A logic game. David was down in Devon finishing off the great work on William Marshall. Not to be disturbed by his friends—right?'
'Right,' agreed Sir Thomas. 'And David, as we all know, is likely to be exceedingly scornful of the Arthurian interpretation of early sixth century history—right?'
'And Dr Sheldon is exactly what he says he is.'
'So the peace and quiet of Devon is abandoned—'
'And William Marshall is abandoned—'
'And little Cathy is off-loaded on her grandma?' Margaret joined the game tentatively. 'Would that be significant?'
Anthony Price - Our man in camelot
'It would,' agreed Sir Thomas. 'It signifies business, not pleasure. Not—' he looked at Audley narrowly
'—official business, because Faith is along for the ride, but business all the same.'
