‘When I am worried,’ Antonia said, ‘I can’t eat a thing.’
‘
Are
you worried? You poor thing! Where
is
Ella? It isn’t like her to abandon her duties. Shall we go to the kitchen – or shall we start knocking on our fellow guests’ bedroom doors? Let’s go and rouse Aunt Nellie, shall we? No,’ Payne suddenly said. ‘Let’s go to the library.’
‘Why the library?’
‘I want to check if the body is still there.’ Payne patted his pocket. ‘I’ve got the key.’
She looked at him sharply. ‘Why? What’s the idea?’
‘Last night I dreamt that the body had disappeared. It was a damned unsettling dream. It isn’t often that I fall prey to silly fancies, as you know, but I’d like to go and check anyway. All bloody nonsense.’
‘
Case Without a Corpse
. That’s the title of an obscure detective novel by the rather dubious Rupert Croft-Cooke.’ Antonia spoke with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. ‘Pen-name: Leo Bruce.’
‘Why dubious? Oh – there was something he was involved in – a scandal of some sort – young girls, was it? Or was it choirboys? How interesting. One always imagined detective story writers to be the cleanest-living of all writers.’
‘I believe most of us are,’ Antonia said.
‘Let’s check if the corpse is still there, shall we?’
The library door was ajar. They halted. Antonia pulled at her husband’s arm.
‘Yes. I see it too,’ Payne said in a low voice. ‘I don’t think we are having a joint hallucination. This suggests the existence of another key.’
Light seeped through the door. Antonia didn’t think it was a lamp. The light flickered – unless her eyes were deceiving her – not
candles
? What kind of devilry was that? Not a
wake
, surely?
Angels and Ministers of grace defend us, Antonia thought.
Payne had also seen the light and he stiffened. He glanced round – he needed a weapon – just in case. A table lamp with a heavy bronze base on a side table drew his attention – he picked it up, winding the flex round his wrist.
‘Keep behind me,’ he whispered.
He pushed the door open.
He felt Antonia grip his elbow.
The sight that met their eyes made them stop and stare.
Antonia gave a little cry.
Gott is tot …
Doctor Klein was in his room and he was singing. It was an old and rather obscure German song with an untranslatable title. Something about the death of hope, the death of love, the death of God …
Tears as large as pearls ran down his white face. A cinema buff might have been put in mind of Cocteau’s
La Belle et
La Bête
: Belle’s teardrops turning into glittering diamonds, much to her delight.
But in Doctor Klein’s heart there was no delight, only darkness.
God, I declare, is dead.
God is dead.
Did you hear the news?
God is dead.
We have killed God.
How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?
Who will wipe this blood off us?
What water is there for us to clean ourselves?
What festivals of atonement?
What sacred games shall we have to invent?
Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us?
Doctor Klein looked at his reflection in the mirror, at his opening and closing mouth. He waved an imaginary conductor’s baton.
He thought of his hostess and fellow guests. They were all –
dead.
Dead souls … They were not aware of it of course …
He too was dead
…
There hadn’t been a sound, then suddenly some kind of peculiar chant. Damned annoying, John de Coverley thought. It was clear what they were up to.
They were trying to drive him mad.
They had taken his gun away, then his eyeglass had vanished and, as though that were not enough, they had locked him in his room. He had no idea how he managed to remain so calm. Could they have been putting something in his food and drink – some drug – some kind of bromide – to induce docility?
The chap who had come out of his wardrobe the night before hadn’t given him any explanation. A military-looking sort of chap with quite an air about him. Terribly polite. Hadn’t turned a hair. As though emerging from people’s wardrobes was the most natural thing in the world. He had just stood there, looking at him in what appeared to be a speculative manner. He seemed to be particularly interested in his hands.
John regarded his bandaged hands with a puzzled frown.
Antonia and Hugh went on staring.
Aeons passed …
The cake was shaped like a giant question mark of the kind favoured by the incorrigible Riddler. The icing was of a virulent green colour. There were ten burning candles sticking out of it.
‘Happy anniversary,’ Sybil de Coverley said. She gave them a dazzling smile.
She was wearing white lace gloves.
And everybody joined in. Antonia looked round in dismayed disbelief which quickly turned to anger. They were all there: Mrs Garrison-Gore, looking exhausted and self-deprecating; Oswald, grinning broadly, though showing signs of irritation; Ella, with her familiar air of defensive aloofness; Feversham, elegant and debonair; Maisie, a terrified smile on her face; Lady Grylls, looking sheepish …
No, not everybody – Doctor Klein was again absent.
They were all in it …
‘There you are! We knew you’d come this way sooner or later! We’ve been cooped up here since dawn!’ Lady Grylls cried in exaggerated glee. ‘Hate hiding, unless it is from the Taxman, ha-ha. I beg you not to hate me. The whole thing was all Mrs Garrison-Gore’s idea anyhow. I mean this particular scenario. The double bluff and so on. I haven’t got the brains for such diabolical twists.’
Oswald Ramskritt said, ‘Shall we open the champagne? I think it’s time.’
‘No, no. Antonia and Hugh will need to blow out the candles first,’ Sybil de Coverley said. ‘The candles have started dripping. Do blow out the candles, quick, otherwise the cake will taste foul! Poor Ella took so much trouble making this cake.’
Major Payne surveyed the scene with a mirthless smile; thus the ancient satirist must have contemplated the Ship of Fools. ‘I’d rather someone explained first. My aunt or Miss de Coverley or Mrs Garrison-Gore, perhaps?’ He didn’t make any great effort to keep the stiffness out of his voice. His eyes fixed on Mrs Garrison-Gore.
Mrs Garrison-Gore failed to return his look. She appeared to be entranced by the bowl of dry daffodils on a side table. She was wearing what looked like window curtains fashioned out of stately brocade. Her hair gave every appearance of being freshly permed. She must have brought her own electric tongs, Payne reflected inconsequentially. Everybody seemed to be ridiculously over-dressed. Were he and Antonia expected to be impressed by their sense of occasion? Ella was wearing a high-collared dress in silvery-grey. His aunt was clad in a powder-blue cashmere and wore her pearls. Feversham sported an immaculately cut three-piece Prince of Wales check suit, a butterfly collar and a bow tie.
‘Shall we open the champagne?’ Oswald said again. He sounded impatient. ‘I don’t know about you folks, but I have a thirst. I had a whisky before I came down. I was feeling tense. I guess it’s given me a thirst.’ He wore a sharkskin suit with buttons that looked like opals, perhaps
were
opals, which, in Payne’s very private opinion, was the most bounderish kind of outfit a chap could ever think of.
‘Major Payne is perfectly right. We need to provide an explanation for our seemingly outrageous conduct.’ Feversham sounded very much the
grand seigneur
. His monocle flashed. He appeared to have assumed a position of authority. ‘We agreed that we should adhere to the rules, didn’t we?’
‘What rules?’ Oswald asked.
‘The rules of fair play, my dear fellow.’
‘I don’t remember any rules.’
‘We have been terribly good at it so far, why spoil it at the very end? Major Payne and his charming wife are entitled to an explanation.’ Feversham gave a little bow in Antonia’s direction.
‘I think the storm’s starting again.’ Ella was gazing out of the window.
‘
How tedious is a guilty conscience – methinks –
How did that go on?
Methinks
– something or other? What exactly did the bishop – or was it some mad radical? – see when he looked into his garden pond?’ Lady Grylls glanced round. ‘I do believe he was a character in one of the bloodiest tragedies ever written, if memory serves me right.’
‘
Methinks I see a thing armed with a rake, that seems to strike at me.
It was the mad Cardinal in
The Duchess of Malfi
,’ Payne explained in a distant voice. ‘Not a mad radical.’
‘Hugh always manages to convey his vast knowledge with grace and wit,’ Lady Grylls said ingratiatingly.
‘I am sorry, but this whole thing’s started to get on my nerves. I think I’ve had enough of this nonsense,’ Ramskritt said in a very loud voice. His face was red and a vein pulsed in his temple.
Sybil said again that the candles were dripping.
‘No they are not – not any longer!’ Stooping over, Feversham blew out all ten candles at once. ‘
Voilà
. No more dripping.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that, Fever.’ Sybil slapped him playfully across the wrist. ‘It’s a bad omen when someone else does it. Oh well, too late now.’ She beamed at Hugh and Antonia. ‘Such fun, having you, as they say, fall into the trap.’
‘We did fall into the trap, yes, but I would hesitate to call it fun,’ Payne said.
Sybil patted Mrs Garrison-Gore’s arm. ‘Congrats, Romany. Well done. Jolly good show. You made it work! What do you think, Nellie? Mission accomplished, eh?’
‘I am not at all sure. Hugh looks as though he’d like nothing better than to strangle me,’ Lady Grylls wailed. ‘Perhaps it was a little thoughtless of us. I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Good to see you are after all alive, Miss de Coverley,’ Payne said.
Ramskritt turned to Ella who was standing on his left and hissed, ‘Go and change at once. You are dressed with disfiguring austerity. Why do you insist on making yourself look like a nun? You know how much I hate this dress.’
‘But –’
‘At once I said. And don’t give me murderous looks or the Vatican will hear about it.’
Antonia was standing beside Ella and she could hardly believe her ears.
Ella left the room without a word.
‘So that was a hoax,’ Antonia said. ‘A double bluff.’
‘I would like to think we were all involved in an experiment of considerable psychological complexity,’ said Feversham.
‘It was a hoax. We were summoned on a fool’s errand devised around a double bluff,’ said Payne firmly.
‘Sorry folks, but I am getting bored.’ Ramskritt yawned ostentatiously. ‘Perhaps Mrs G-G could entertain us? Come on, Mrs G-G, give us some more old lamps for the new.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.
‘Only that you are a brilliant storyteller. A proper Schehera – you know the one I mean.’ He glanced round. ‘I managed to read some bits from her latest book and I can tell you it is an awesome achievement. As a man of business, I am particularly impressed by Mrs G-G’s
enterprise
. I am thinking of phoning her publishers and telling them, in case they aren’t aware, and then they may increase her advance!’
‘I wasn’t at all sure whether the double bluff would work,’ Mrs Garrison-Gore said with a frown. ‘Elaborate ruses tend to go wrong. I kept changing the plotline. If I may call it that. I know you have had double bluffs in some of your novels,’ she addressed Antonia.
‘I have had characters discuss the
possibility
of a double bluff, but I have never actually employed a double bluff as a plot device.’ Antonia hoped she didn’t sound too tart.
‘Deception within the deception … What the hell did you have round your throat?’ Payne asked Sybil. ‘Why didn’t I feel any pulse? A rubber band, I suppose?’
‘
Yes.
The most horrid thing.’ Sybil shuddered histrionically. ‘Looked positively indecent. I also had to put on a contraption around my chest, like corsets, to make my heartbeat hard to detect. And I wore flesh-coloured tourniquets around the wrists. Fever had thought of
everything
. Fever managed to outwit you.’
‘He most certainly did,’ Payne conceded.
‘I hit on the concept of the double bluff when Lady Grylls told me you were bound to smell a rat right away. At some point before the “murder”,’ Mrs Garrison-Gore went on. ‘Lady Grylls was to admit to you that it was all a game. Then the “murder” was to take place, but it would seem to come at the
wrong time
– and it would have every appearance of being a
real
murder.’
‘I bet Major Payne looks so terribly miffed because he fell for the wheeze,’ Sybil said.
‘That may indeed be the case, though we were also shocked and upset by what happened last night. In fact we found it a nerve-taxing experience. We felt responsible for your death, you see.’ Payne spoke in a tired voice. ‘We felt guilty for failing to prevent it. Does anyone actually imagine that we enjoy dabbling in violent death?’ He looked round. ‘Well, we don’t.’
There was an awkward pause.
‘I am so sorry, Hughie,’ Lady Grylls said in a tremulous voice. ‘Can you find it in your heart to forgive an old and foolish woman? It was terribly insensitive of me. I made a big mistake. I can see that now. Can’t we kiss and make up?’
‘I will have to think about it,’ Payne said.
‘My dear, do you despise me?’ Lady Grylls turned to Antonia.
‘Of course not.’ Antonia smiled. ‘We aren’t really cross. It’s just that I slept badly –’ She broke off. Why make a public spectacle of self-pity?
‘Sybil could have stopped me but she didn’t. Why didn’t you stop me, Sybil?’ Lady Grylls chided her friend. ‘I can plead galloping senility as an excuse – but there is nothing wrong with
you,
my dear, is there?’