Chapter 18

“But he knows an awful lot about the evidence I dug up.”

“Andrew will give him a cover-up explanation they’re working out,” Lou said. “That will convince Boyd there’s nothing more to worry about. Of course, we may have to change his mind about a few things, but we can do that, probably through you, since you know him best. There’s nothing for you to worry over, Ken. Nothing at all.”

“Good,” Malone said. He leaned over and kissed her. “Because I’m not in the least worried.”

Lou sighed deeply, looking off into space.

“Luba Malone,” she said. “It sounds nice. And, after all, my mother was Irish. At least it sounds better than Garbitsch.”

“What doesn’t?” Malone said automatically. Then he blinked. “Hey, _I’m_ Malone!” he said. “How could you be Malone?”

“Me?” Lou said. She caroled happily. “I’m Malone because I love you, love you with all my heart.”

“That,” Malone said, “does it. A woman after my own heart.”

Lou made a low curtsy.

“And a woman of grace and breeding,” Malone said. “Eftsoons, if that means anything.”

“You know,” Lou said, “I like you even better when you’re being Sir Kenneth. Especially when you’re talking to yourself.”

“My innate gallantry and all my good qualities come out,” Malone said.

“Yes,” Lou said. “Indeed they do. All over the place. It’s nice to go back to Elizabethan times, anyhow, in the middle of all these troubles.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Malone said. “There’s always been trouble. In the Middle Ages, it was witches. In the Seventeenth Century, it was demons. In the Nineteenth it was revolutions. In—”

Lou cut him off with a kiss. When she broke away Malone raised his eyebrows.

“I prithee,” he said, “interrupt me not. I am developing a scheme of philosophy. There have always been troubles. In the 1890’s there was a Depression and panic, and the Spanish-American War—”

“All right, Sirrah,” Lou said. “And then what?”

“Let’s see,” Malone said, reverting to 1973 for a second. “In 1903 there was the airplane, and troubles abroad.”

“Yes?” Lou said. “Do go on, Sirrah. Your liege awaits your slightest word.”

“Hmm,” Malone said.

“That, Milord, was a very slight word indeed,” Lou said. “What’s after 1903?”

Malone smiled and went back to the days of the First Elizabeth happily.

“In 1914, it was enemy aliens,” said Sir Kenneth Malone.