There was a shocked silence, and then the footman sprang forward to help his master up. Once upon his feet, Charles shoved him away and turned on Roberta, drawing his hand back to strike her. I was nearest, and I spun the man round and pushed him backwards, again and again, until we fetched up against the far wall. Then I took up a poker and held the blackened tip under Charles' misshapen nose. "Leave this house this instant, or it will end badly for you," I growled. "One word of this to anyone, and I will hunt you down and flay the skin from your bones. Understand me when I say I have nothing to lose. Nothing!"
I put everything I had into the threat, and Charles crumpled like a piece of wet parchment. Eyes wide and fearful, he nodded quickly before turning and stumbling for the hall, blood dripping from his damaged nose. The footman was all but grinning with delight, but he straightened his face quickly before following Charles from the room.
Mrs Fairacre looked in at that moment, attracted by the uproar. She saw Roberta wincing and massaging her hand, and hurried across to help her. Meanwhile, the professor clapped me on the shoulder. "I see you do have some backbone after all, Mr Jones. Of course, if I were a younger man I'd have given him what-for myself."
"Of course, sir."
Then the professor spotted my valise. "All packed and ready, eh?"
"Yes sir." Deep inside, hope welled. Surely now he would allow me to stay?
"Mrs Fairacre will send a runner for a cab," said the professor, crushing my hopes. "You can finish your breakfast in the meantime."
I turned to Roberta, and I noticed her looking at me in confusion. "Mr Jones, would you say that behaviour was out of character?"
"No," I said firmly. "Charles is a thorough cad."
She smiled. "I meant your behaviour, Septimus. The way you lost your temper and threatened him."
"I'm sorry, but I feel it was justified."
"All the same, I'd like to check something before you leave."
I sat down and ate a few mouthfuls of breakfast, but in truth my appetite was gone. Fortunately, Roberta came back quickly, and to my surprise I saw she held the spectacles with mismatched eyeglasses. She put them on and studied me through the lenses, and then she gave a cry of alarm. "Father, you will not believe this! Mr Jones is possessed!"
– — Ω — –
"What is it you say?" demanded the professor. "Possessed?"
"It's the truth!" declared Roberta. "Poor Septimus carries a minor spirit within him. It must have guided his actions all along!"
"Let me see!"
The professor reached for the glasses, but Roberta swatted his hand away. "Will you take my word, just this once?" she demanded.
Chastened, her father nodded. "It all makes sense now," he said slowly. "The cowardice, the craven behaviour… what other evidence did I need? I should have known the boy wasn't a traitor!"
"Come, Septimus. Come quickly, and I will rid you of this demon immediately!" Without waiting for an answer, Roberta took my hand and practically dragged me from the room.
"I'll help you!" called the professor.
"No! I can manage on my own."
"But—"
"Father, do you truly believe I need your help?" By now Roberta and I were climbing the stairs, and the professor's protestations faded. When we reached her floor she opened the door and led me to the bed, where she forced me to sit. By now I was in a blind panic, for I could almost feel the tendrils of an evil spirit invading every part of my body. How long had it been there? How long had it been driving my every thought?
Meanwhile, Roberta had closed the door, and now she wedged a chair beneath the handle. I grew truly frightened, because I guessed she'd trapped me in that room so that my controlling spirit would have no escape. The extraction was going to be bad, truly bad, and I felt my heart pounding as I imagined the horrors to come.
Now Roberta was at her workbench, rummaging amongst the equipment. She picked up several tools, some with curved blades and others with pincer-like ends, and not one of them gave me any comfort. Then she took up an object and came back to the bed. It was a bronze cylinder, of the sort used to capture spirits, and as she sat next to me I could not take my eyes off the rounded, gleaming vessel. Soon, the monster inhabiting me would be drawn out, kicking and fighting, and then it would be trapped in that vessel for all time.
And what of me? Would I feel any different? "W—will it hurt?" I whispered, my eyes wide.
Roberta looked at me. "Will what hurt?"
"Removing my spirit. Freeing me from this evil possession."
"Oh Septimus, you complete fool. There is no spirit!"
I stared at her, stunned.
"It's a ruse," she whispered. "And do please keep your voice down, lest father hear your idiot questions and guess at the truth."
"A ruse?" I breathed. "But…" Then, all of a sudden, I realised just how adroitly she'd played her father this time around. If he believed I'd betrayed him while under the influence of a spirit, he could no more blame me than he could Mrs Fairacre! I stared at Roberta in admiration, and not for the first time I realised she truly did have the mind of a criminal genius. "So what do we do now?" I whispered.
"Now we sit for a while. A few minutes should suffice, and then I shall inform my father that the extraction was successful. He will apologise to you, and after that he will ask you to stay on with us."
I lowered my head, quite overcome. "Thank you," I murmured.
"You are most welcome."
"But you do leave me a little confused, for yesterday you told me you never wished to see me again."
"I was angry then, and rightly so. I was
