J.T. Edson - Blonde Genius

Penelope did not as much as twitch a hand or foot as the adjudicator knelt and delivered his final judgement of the evening. Nor, on being told to break the hold, could Tess do more than crawl tiredly to her hands and knees. However, her assistant ducked between the ropes and hurried forward to help her stand up.

A numbed hush descended over the huge room following the sight of the head girls final predicament and defeat. It continued all through the tannoy system’s announcement that Tearaway Tess Duberville had won the final and deciding fall, by an aeroplane spin and pinfall, of the Debate.

It was left to Miss Benkinsop and Amanda to set an example of true, grand old British sporting spirit.

“Jolly well done, Tess!” Miss Benkinsop called, as she and the School Swot came to their feet. “Bravo!”

As became leading members of the Profession, Spender and Fiorelli joined Miss Benkinsop and Amanda in according the victress her just acclaim. Possibly Fiorelli was more sincere than Spender in his applause, for the English executive had just lost a sizeable sum of money.

“Excuse me, Miss Benkinsop,” Amanda said quietly, once the audience had started to display a more satisfactory response. “May I go to Penelope?”

“Of course,” assented the headmistress, guessing what the School Swot had in mind. “Go right away.”

Darting to the side of the, dais, Amanda swung herself up and over the ropes with the grace and agility of a trained Debater. Throwing a quick glance at Tess, who had been led by her assistant to the red corner and was slumped against the post, Amanda joined Miss Hammerschlagen at Penelope’s side. Looking as if she could hardly believe the evidence of her eyes, the gym teacher knelt by the recumbant head girl and stared unbelievingly at the School Swot.

“ Gott in himmel! ” Miss Hammerschlagen gasped, reverting to her native tongue in her perturbation. “What happened? How could Penelope lose like this?”

“That’s what I want to find out!” Amanda admitted, speaking German as fluently as the gym mistress.

At that moment, the school’s Matron arrived. Clad in a spotless white smock, she carried a doctor’s bag.

“Can I help, Amanda?” she asked.

“Would you attend to Tess, please, Matron?” the girl requested. “I’ll look after Penelope.”

“That would be best,” Matron admitted, and went to do as the School Swot had suggested.

Having known that Fiorelli intended to make some heavy wagers on the outcome of the Debate, Carrela and Schulze responded like loyal employees. Members of the Profession had been known to protest strenuously when the time had come to settle debts of honour. So the two men wanted to be available in case their employer required moral support in his claims for payment.

Leaving their places, the two enforcers hurried along the aisle in the direction of the guests of honour. As they approached Garibaldi, he stood up. Taking out the original cigarette-holder, he handed it to Schulze. Without stopping, or in any way acknowledging the gift, the Teutonic enforcer thrust it into his right-hand pocket. Breathing something like a sigh of relief, the Italian remained on his feet. He watched the activities on the dais, while joining lustily in the three cheers which Miss Blenkinsop was presenting—with the audience’s help—to Tess.

Kneeling demurely, Amanda reached forward and gently drew open Penelope’s eyelids: She noticed a slight, but not entirely unexpected, discrepancy in the size of the pupils. However, in view of the serious nature of the situation, she decided not to leave anything to chance.

“Could you please time me while I take Penny’s pulse, Miss Hammerschlagen?” Amanda asked, still speaking German to make sure that she would be understood.

“ Ja wohl! ” barked the gym mistress, acting almost as respectfully correct as when she addressed Miss Benkinsop.

Taking hold of each of Penelope’s wrists between a thumb and forefinger, Amanda nodded to Miss Hammerschlagen. Consulting her massive wristwatch, the gym mistress waited until the second hand reached the figure twelve, then nodded.

While the seconds ticked away, Amanda concentrated—oblivious of everything that went on around her—all her faculties upon taking the two pulses’ rates of beating simultaneously. Even for the School Swot, that was a difficult and demanding feat. Only by doing so, however, could she hope to satisfy herself that her theory on Penelope’s actions was correct.

“Stop!” commanded Miss Hammerschlagen, when the minute had ended. “You are satisfied, no?”

“I am satisfied, no,” Amanda said half to herself and in English. “I was correct in my assumption. The trouble is, there’s no way I can prove it. Let that be a lesson to you, Amanda Tweedle. It doesn’t always pay to be too thorough.”

Having acknowledged the plaudits of the audience, Tess refused to leave the dais. Instead, she walked on leaden feet to where her opponent was still sprawled supine and motionless. At least, with Amanda caring for her, Tess was satisfied that her friend was in the best possible hands.

“How’s Penny, Amanda?” Tess asked worriedly. “I haven’t hurt her, have I?”

Like most of the more robust, “rule bending” type of Debaters, Tess Duberville had a heart of gold.

“Not too seriously,” Amanda replied. “She’s just completely exhausted.”

“I know how she feels,” Tess admitted, standing slump-shouldered and, in her weariness, caring little for the rules of good deportment. “You’re sure she’ll be all right?”

“She’ll be fine, if a little sore and sorry for herself, in the morning,” Amanda assured the worried-looking girl. “But you won’t be feeling too hot, unless you go and take a hot shower, then let Matron attend to you.”

“All right.” Tess submitted. “I’ll do that.”

Turning, the captain of the A.S.G. returned to her corner. Amanda looked at Miss Hammerschlagen and asked if she would be good enough to take Penelope to the Sanatorium.

“ Ja wohl! ” barked the gym mistress, looking as if she was on the point of springing to attention. “You will be coming to make a more thorough examination?”

“As soon as I can,” Amanda promised. “There’s something else I must do first.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Leaving Miss Hammerschlagen and Matron to attend to the Debaters, Amanda went to the side of the dais, She selected a point close to where Garibaldi was still standing. Since the Italian had committed such a serious breach of good manners by “chatting up” the School Swot, Ginzberg and the other members of the audience had treated him as a social leper and avoided him like he was a Collector of Income Tax. Unperturbed by his isolation, the man stood alone with his long cigarette-holder thrusting jauntily from his lips.

Apparently Amanda had lost the agility which she had displayed when bounding on to the dais. Dropping to the floor of the gymnasium, she stumbled awkwardly. Flailing with her hands, in an attempt to retain her balance, she knocked the holder from Garibaldi’s mouth and stumbled against him.

If the Italian thought anything about the School Swot’s clumsiness, he probably put it down to an excuse to make up for her earlier coolness. She had, he concluded, done it deliberately so as to be near to him and make his more intimate acquaintance.

While Amanda was undoubtedly interested in Garibaldi, he would have been anything but pleased if he had surmised her real reason.

“Oh!” Amanda squeaked, looking even more than usually like an exceptionally naпve, helpless and very charming elfin sprite. “How clumsy of me. I’m so terribly sorry, sir.”

“That’s all right, little one,” Garibaldi answered, determined to make the most of having her so close. Much to the horror of the men and women nearest to him, he dropped his hands towards the School Swots hips. “You didn’t hurt m—”