The Affair of the Mutilated Mink (8 page)

Rex Ransom sat before the dying fire in the magnificent bedroom of the Royal Suite, sunk in gloomy forebodings. At last he stirred and gave a little groan. Keeping up his gay manner throughout the evening had really taken it out of him, and on coming to his room he had flopped down without even removing his evening jacket. Now he felt awful. He had let the room get cold, and he was stiff, uncomfortable and more depressed than ever. There was coming over him, too, that dreaded feeling of oppression, the sense of something pressing in on him. He had to do something about it quickly. He stood up, took off his coat and started to remove his cufflinks.

Three minutes later, stripped down to shorts and undershirt, Rex stared down at the two objects he was holding. How he hated them. Yet they were so necessary to him. He couldn't carry on without them.

At that second, to his alarm, he heard a slight sound from the next room.

The Royal Suite consisted of three connecting rooms: a sitting room, nearest to the grand staircase; next to it the bedroom; and then a dressing room. Rex had told Merryweather to have a fire lit only in the bedroom. It was from the sitting room that the noise had come.

There was nothing sinister about the sound - just a sharp tap, as though someone's foot had knocked against a piece of furniture. But why should anybody be in there, creeping about in the dark?

Rex swung round towards the adjoining door and saw to his consternation that it was open a couple of inches. He took a step towards it. Then he stopped. For there appeared through the crack a black-gloved hand.

Taken utterly aback, Rex stood momentarily transfixed as the hand, followed by a black-sleeved arm, moved like a deadly snake along the wall. Suddenly he came to his senses, gave a shout of anger and took two hurried steps towards the door. But he was too late. The hand had reached the light switch and the room plunged into darkness.

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.'