2 The Affair of the Mutilated Mink Read online

  Rex stood motionless. In the blackness there was not much else he could do. In his best actor's voice he barked, 'Who is that? What are you doing here?'

  There was no reply.

  Rex backed a little towards the bed. Able to see nothing, dressed as he was and barefooted, he felt uncomfortably vulnerable. He spoke again, with a brash confidence he was far from feeling, 'OK, the joke's gone far enough. Clear off and I'll forget about it.'

  He felt a rush of cold air hit him as with a creak the door opened wide. He heard footsteps approaching.

  He shouted, 'I know who you are—'

  Then a blinding light seemed to engulf him. Rex gave an exclamation and staggered back, dropping the objects he had been holding, as the room again went black.

  For a second he flinched, waiting for an attack. But suddenly a sense of the indignity of his situation swept over him. Was this the way for the great Rex Ransom, dashing hero of thirty swashbuckling adventures to behave - skulking in a darkened room, waiting submissively to be set upon?

  Never!

  Rex gave an exclamation of rage and strode blindly forward, swinging random punches. For seconds he punched the air. Then one of his fists made contact with a face. It was a glancing blow, probably in the vicinity of the eye. But it gave him a surge of satisfaction, especially as it drew from his adversary a muffled gasp.

  Rex gave a yell of triumph, 'One for all and all for one!'

  The words were quite inappropriate, but they were the only ones he could think of. Then he realised that the intruder was retreating before him, making for the door. Since extinguishing his flashlight, he must be as blind as Rex himself. There was a chance of collaring him.

  Rex kept moving forward. But then he heard the door to the sitting room slam, and a second later his outstretched fingers touched the door panels. He fumbled for the knob and pulled the door open. He heard somebody blundering across the sitting room, towards the corridor door. Rex groped for the light, but before he could get it on he heard that door in turn open and close.

  About to go after him, Rex instead paused. He couldn't possibly go outside in this state, not at Alderley. He turned and went back into the bedroom, switching on the light. As he did so he thought he heard some sort of commotion from the corridor or landing outside. He grabbed for his dressing gown.

  Gerry sat on the study floor. She had heard not a sound since the small rumpus from upstairs a minute before. Very quietly she let out her breath. He was gone; she was sure of it. Carefully she got to her feet, felt her way to the desk, groped for the reading lamp and switched on.

  Apprehensively she peered round. The room seemed in order. She'd been half expecting to see the safe door open and the desk drawers on the floor. But there was no sign at all of the intrusion, or of her titanic struggle with the intruder. Which was, in a way, rather irritating. She crossed to the window and examined it. It was intact and locked - virtual proof that it was no outsider she'd been dealing with.

  The bulb from the centre of the room had been removed and was on the desk. Gerry fetched a chair to stand on and replaced it. Then she found her flashlight and left the study, switching off the light. She went to the kitchen, replaced the knife and made her way upstairs in the dark. For the moment she couldn't quite think what to do next. The obvious thing would be to rouse her father and take him to confront Gilbert. On the other hand, a scene of that sort would upset the Earl terribly. And Gilbert wouldn't try any more funny business tonight. Perhaps, then, it would be better to do nothing now and make a decision about her next move in the morning.

  Gerry had nearly reached the top of the stairs when the light on the landing above her went on. She gave a start and blinked upwards, fearfully. Then she said, 'Mr Ransom!'

  Rex gazed down at her, in obvious surprise. 'Lady Geraldine.'

  She said, 'I — I thought I heard a noise.'

  'Yes, so did I.'

  He looked immaculate in an elegant mohair dressing gown, not a hair of his head out of place — and certainly not like someone who'd just got out of bed.

  'It sounded like a sort of scuffle,' she said. 'But I expect it was just somebody stumbling in the dark.'

  'Probably. Well, in that case I think I'll get back to bed. Good night, Lady Geraldine.'

  'Good night, Mr Ransom.'

  Rex returned to his room and at last got into bed. He lay on his back, staring up into the darkness. But it was a long time before he slept.

  Chapter Eight

  On Friday Alderley awoke to an even colder day. In addition; there was a strong north wind and the sky was a surly grey. The weather had none of the crisp, bracing quality of the Thursday.

  Somehow this change seemed to be reflected in the atmosphere indoors. So, at least, it seemed to Lord Burford at breakfast. He was down early and had only just started his meal when to his great surprise the first person to join him was Gerry.

  'Good gad!' he said. 'You all right?'

  'Couldn't sleep.' She sat down and started buttering a piece of toast.

  Her father looked astonished. 'No bacon and eggs?'

  'No, I'm not hungry.' She spoke absently.

  'Can't sleep and off your feed? You must be sickenin' for something.'

  But Gerry wasn't listening. She was staring intently at the door, which was just opening. Then she visibly relaxed as Rex came in. He said good morning and sat down. There were dark circles under his eyes, and though he responded cheerfully to the Earl's remarks, his good humour was clearly forced. He too kept his eyes fixed on the door.

  Sebastian and Cecily, Haggermeir, Paul and Hugh arrived during the next ten minutes and all seemed strangely preoccupied. Each was subjected to the closest scrutiny by Rex.

  Then the door opened again and Gilbert entered. Lord Burford looked at him and gave an exclamation. 'My dear chap! What have you been doing to yourself?'

  His words drowned Rex's quick intake of breath, and no one noticed the sudden expression of triumph in Gerry's eye. For down Gilbert's left cheek ran a long strip of bandage. And his right eye was a most magnificent shade of purple.

  Gilbert said nonchalantly, 'Two quite separate mishaps. I walked into a cupboard door and then, while shaving with my old cut-throat, I slipped, and gashed myself. However, they say suffering is good for the creative artist.'

  He went to the sideboard and helped himself to two large kippers.

  Rex said, 'If you'll excuse me.' He stood up and strolled out. So now he knew. Gee, that punch he'd landed must have been harder than he'd realised. And thank heavens for it, for now he could act.

  Gerry left the breakfast room a few minutes later and returned to her bedroom to think. The cut on Gilbert's cheek proved beyond doubt that it was him she'd slashed at in the study. But what was she going to do about it? She couldn't bring herself to tell her father. After so much apprehension, the Earl was now enormously enjoying the house party. To be told one of his guests was a crook would be to rekindle his fears of a repeat of that other disastrous weekend — and take away all his pleasure at the visit of Rex Ransom. What was more, without absolutely cast-iron proof, Lord Burford would certainly not just send Gilbert packing. He would merely worry. And if she told her mother, the Countess would undoubtedly go straight to the Earl.

  Gerry was tempted to ask Paul's advice. But it seemed hardly fair to invite him to stay and then involve him in her problems.

  No, she had to resolve the affair on her own. And really there was only one straightforward course: to confront Gilbert privately and give him the opportunity to make some excuse and leave. It would be a horrible task; bad enough at the best of times, but now complicated by her idiotic behaviour toward him the previous day. Whether or not she now revealed that she had been the girl at the garage, he'd have good grounds for putting round the story that Lady Geraldine Saunders was a candidate for the looney bin. And any accusation she made about his searching the study would just seem additional evidence of this.

  However, there was no way out
. Gilbert was up to no good, and had to be got rid of. At least he didn't, thank heaven, know about her nocturnal visit to his bedroom.

  Gerry went downstairs again, deciding to wait outside the breakfast room and waylay Gilbert when he came out. She'd been there for five minutes when she saw Laura Lorenzo, who'd breakfasted in her room, descending the stairs,

  Laura this morning was wearing a lettuce-green tweed jacket and corduroy trousers. She smiled charmingly. Ah, buongiorno, Lady Geraldine.'

  'Good morning. I hope you slept well.'

  'Oh, si, I did, grazie.'

  'Sorry you've got such a pokey little room, right down at the end of the corridor.'

  'Oh, that does not matter. It is a beautiful room. And such a lovely fire! For the first time since I arrive in England I am warm enough.'

  Then over Gerry's shoulder she exclaimed. 'Signore Geelbert!'

  Gerry swung round to see Gilbert emerging from the breakfast room. But before she could speak to him, Laura had swept past her. 'Scuzatemi, Lady Geraldine. Signore Geelbert, a queeck word with you.'

  'What? Oh, of course, pleasure.'

  Laura took him by the arm. 'Perhaps we can go somewhere quiet.' She led him away.

  * * *

  'So, Signore Geelbert, that is quite definite?'

  'Quite.'

  'Bene, bene. I'm glad we understand each other. I just wanted to make quite sure. Now I must leave you. I have not long here and there is much that I must see to. Goodbye.' She went out.

  Gerry saw Laura leave the small music room, where she'd been having her tête-à-tête with Gilbert, and walk off. She waited a moment and entered the room herself.

  Arlington Gilbert was seated at a table near the window. He looked up as Gerry entered and his face took on an expression halfway between alarm and excitement. Gerry said, 'I want to speak to you, Mr Gilbert.'

  He stood up. 'Oh?' His face now displayed a kind of apprehensive attentiveness, as though he was trying to work out which of Gerry's personalities was on display this morning. 'What about?'

  'I think you know quite well.'

  'I assure you, I—'

  'Let's stop playing games. That cut on your face: you didn't get it shaving; I did it.'

  He positively boggled at her. 'You?

  'Oh, don't pretend you didn't know who it was!'

  'I had no idea!'

  'Well, now you do. And I want an explanation.'

  'You want an explanation? Don't you owe me an explanation - and an apology?'

  Gerry gave a gasp. 'Me apologise to you? What on earth for?'

  'Well, do you normally go around attacking your guests in the middle of the night?'

  'No - just defend myself when they sneak around in the dark and manhandle me.'

  He gave a roar. 'I did not manhandle you! You ran into me.'

  'I did nothing of the sort!' Then Gerry took a grip on herself. This was most undignified, and not at all as she had envisaged the conversation. More quietly she said, 'Who ran into whom is immaterial. What I want to know is what you were doing there.'

  'I can't answer that.'

  She said incredulously, 'You refuse to tell me?'

  'I do.'

  'But you had absolutely no right to be there!'

  'No right? Jupiter's teeth, what sort of place is this? Alcatraz? Do you set a curfew, make certain areas off limits to your guests?'

  'No, of course not! But we don't expect them to go snooping around in the dark.'

  'I was not snooping!'

  'Then why didn't you switch the light on?'

  'Why didn't you?'

  'You'd taken the bulb out!'

  'I had not!' He said this with such vehemence that for a moment she couldn't manage to argue; after all there was no way to prove it.

  Rather lamely she said, 'Well, somebody did.'

  'Not me. And anyway, what were you doing spying on people in the middle of the night?'

  'I wasn't spying.'

  Suddenly his face cleared. 'Oh, I see?' He chuckled slyly. 'Date with one of the boyfriends, was it?'

  'Certainly not!'

  'Tell that to the marines.'

  'I was looking for you, you fool!'

  She could have bitten her tongue off as soon as the words were out, but simply stared dumbly at him.

  Gilbert gave a start. 'Looking for me?'

  'Yes, but—'

  'Well, well, well,' he said slowly. 'I must say this puts a different complexion on things. And I won't say I'm not flattered. I am, of course, attractive to women, and I'm quite familiar with these sudden irresistible urges they get.'

  Utterly speechless, Gerry just stood, her mouth open, the dozens of scathing words she wanted to utter stuck in her throat like a log jam on a river.

  Gilbert continued thoughtfully, 'Now, I must try and work out just what happened, because it's all very confusing. I take it you went first to my room?'

  Gerry gulped. 'I—'

  He smiled. 'I can see you did. Don't be embarrassed - it's quite natural. You found my room empty, and, of course, were bitterly disappointed.' He took a step towards her. 'I'm terribly sorry, Geraldine, but I couldn't know you were coming. And now that I understand the situation, I don't mind telling you what I was doing. But one thing first: when we ran into each other, you must have realised you'd found the person you'd been seeking. Why then did you claw my face?'

  At last, presented with a straight question, Gerry managed to reply. Through clenched teeth she hissed, 'I did not claw your face!'

  'But my dear, you said—'

  In a sudden bursting of frustration, anger and humiliation, Gerry yelled, 'I didn't claw your face. I did it with a carving knife!'

  For seconds Gilbert didn't react at all; his face wore the same slightly pulled but patiently indulgent expression. Then it was as though something clicked. His jaw dropped.

  He said hollowly, 'You came looking for me with a - a carving knife?'

  'Yes! Now listen—'

  But Gilbert had gone pale. Hurriedly he stepped back. He said, 'Keep away.'

  Desperately Gerry shouted, 'You great imbecile, you don't understand—'

  'Oh, yes, I do - only too well. I was warned about you, Lady Geraldine. I didn't know what the warning meant. But I do now. You're mad. Certifiable. You ought to be locked up!'

  'Will you listen?' Gerry screeched. 'You've got it all wrong. I want to know what you were looking for. Either tell me or leave this house at once.'

  'Well, I wasn't looking for a victim to stab! And don't worry, I'm going. Now. Nobody's safe with you around. It's monstrous that you're walking about free. The power of the aristocracy! Disgraceful! I shall show it up!'

  And being careful to remain facing her, Gilbert sidled round her, backed to the door and went hurriedly out.

  Gerry sank helplessly into a chair. She felt exhausted. Oh, crumbs, what a ghastly mess she'd made of that!

  But at least he was going. To spread abroad heaven knew what sort of rumours about her. He'd make her out to be a maniac certainly - but whether on reflection he'd paint her as merely a nymphomaniac, or homicidal as well, she wasn't sure.

  Suddenly Gerry's lips started to twitch. Then she gave a giggle. Next a chortle. Within seconds she was bent double in her chair, helpless with laughter.

  * * *

  Laura opened the door to the library and looked in. The only person inside was Paul, who was kneeling on the floor, peering under a chair.

  She said, 'Oh, mi scusi.'

  'It's all right.' Paul stood up. 'I was just looking for my fountain pen. Thought I might have dropped it in here yesterday. But no luck. It's rather a nice one: gold, twenty-first birthday present from my godmother.'

  'Ah, then it would be a peety to lose it.'

  'Were you looking for somebody in particular?' he asked.

  'It is no matter. I am seemply exploring this beautiful house.' She looked round her. 'Would it be eendeescreet of me, signore, were I to ask whether perhaps one day it will be
your home?'

  'Mine?'

  'Forgeev me, but I got the impression that you and the Lady Geraldine were — were . . .'

  'Oh, I see.' Paul grinned. 'Well, I'd certainly like to think we were. But I'm not banking on it.'

  'Ah, you have a rival?'

  'You could say that.'

  'Signore Quartus, I think? And you hate each other, yes?'

  'Great Scott, no!'

  'But if you are both in love with the same woman . . .'

  'That doesn't mean we hate each other. After all, we're not Latins, who—' He broke off, in confusion. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean—'

  Laura laughed, a rich appreciative laugh. 'Not crazy, hot- blooded Italianos? No, Signore Carter, you are certainly not that. You especially are very English, are you not? And so you stay in the same house as your rival, and you are very polite, and if the Lady Geraldine eventually chooses him you will smile and shake him by the hand and tell everyone what a frightfully decent chap he is. Right?'

  Paul laughed. 'I sincerely hope the situation doesn't arise. But if it does, it wouldn't do any good to cut up rough. Just have to grin and bear it.'

  'And suppose veectory should go to you. Will Signore Quartus also green and bear it?'

  'I expect so. I mean, what else could he do?'

  'Oh, quite a lot of theengs. You see, signore, you say you do not hate Hugh Quartus. But I look at his face once or twice last night, and I theenk very much he hate you.'

  Paul felt decidedly embarrassed. 'I say, steady on.'

  'You theenk perhaps that because I am an actress I seek the melodrama everywhere, eh?'

  'Oh, I wouldn't presume to say such a thing.'

  'Which means you do theenk it. Perhaps you are right.' Laura leant forward and helped herself to a cigarette from a box on a nearby table. 'Will you have one?'

  She pushed the box towards Paul.

  'No, thanks, I don't smoke.'

  'Ah, no, of course not: you are an athlete, are you not? Deed I not hear it said that you competed for England at the Olympic games?'