To Say Nothing of the Dog (43 page)

Finch looked nervously at Eglantine. “Is there somewhere we could speak privately, sir?” he said.

“Eglantine,” I said. “How would you like to run the Treasure Hunt for a few minutes?”

She shook her head virtuously. “I wish to dig. The person in charge isn’t allowed to win prizes. I wish Number Two.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This gentleman was ahead of you. Mr. Finch, what square would you like?”

“Square?” Finch said.

“A square to dig in,” I said, indicating the sandbox. “As there are thirty squares, most people choose a
date.
If it’s one of those listed here,” I added, remembering the date might be the thirty-first. “Did you have a specific
date
in mind, Mr. Finch?”

“Oh,” Finch said, the light dawning. “The date. I would like square Number—”

“He hasn’t paid,” Eglantine said. “You must pay tuppence first to dig.” Finch fished in his pockets. “I’m afraid I haven’t any—”

“Butlers get a free try,” I said. “What number—?”

“That isn’t
fair,”
Eglantine wailed. “Why should butlers get a free try?”

“It’s a church fête rule,” I said.

“You didn’t give Mrs. Mering’s butler a free try,” she said.

“He took his on the coconut shy,” I said, handing Finch the shovel. “The
date,
Mr. Finch?”

“Fifteen, please, Mr. Henry,” he said quickly.

“Fifteen?” I said. “Are you certain?”

“You can’t choose Fifteen,” Eglantine said. “It’s already been chosen. And so have Sixteen and Seventeen. You can’t choose a number which has already been chosen. It’s against the rules.”

“Fifteen,” Finch said firmly.

“But that’s impossible,” I said. “The fifteenth is tomorrow.”

“And you can’t buy Six or Twenty-two,” Eglantine said, “because I’m going to buy them.”

“Was she absolutely certain?” I said.

“Yes, sir,” Finch said.

“What about the month? Could it have been July? Or August?” even though I knew it wasn’t. Verity had told me that day at Iffley the trip to Coventry had been in June.

“I would pick one of the corners,” Eglantine said. “Thirty or One.”

“And you’re certain it’s the fifteenth? Tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir,” Finch said. “Mr. Dunworthy sent me through immediately to tell you.”

“I’ve got to tell Verity,” I said. “Finch, shut up shop.”

“You
can’t,”
Eglantine wailed. “I get three more chances.”

“Let her dig in three more squares and then close down,” I said and took off for the jumble sale stall before either of them could protest, skirting round the back way so I wouldn’t be waylaid by Mrs. Mering or the Chattisbourne girls.

Verity was selling the stringless banjo to a young man in a derby and a handlebar mustache. I picked up an unidentifiable utensil with a large serrated wheel and two sets of curved blades and pretended to know what it was till the young man left.

“A Mr. Kilbreth,” Verity said. “Spelled with a ‘K.’ ”

“The forensics expert’s deciphered the date of the trip to Coventry,” I said before anyone could come up and interrupt us. “It’s the fifteenth of June.”

She looked shocked. “But that’s impossible. The fifteenth is tomorrow.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“How did you find out? Did you go through again?”

“No. Finch came and told me.”

“And he’s certain?”

“Yes. So what do we do?” I said. “I don’t suppose I could simply suggest an outing to Coventry tomorrow morning? To see the sights?”

Verity shook her head. “The day after an activity like this is spent rehashing it with the Chattisbournes and the curate and the Widow Wallace. They’d never be willing to go off and miss that. It’s the best part of the fête.”

“What about fish?” I said.

“Fish?”

“We could tell the Colonel and Professor Peddick there are excellent shallows or deeps or gravel bottoms for bream or something. Isn’t Coventry on a river? The Colonel and Professor Peddick can’t resist anything with fish involved.”

“I don’t know,” Verity said thoughtfully, “but you’ve given me an idea. I don’t suppose you can crack your toes, can you?”

“What?”

“That’s how the Fox sisters did it. Never mind, we can do it with—” She began rummaging through the jumble sale items, looking for something. “Oh, good, it’s still here,” she said, and picked up the metal sugared-violets box.

“Here, buy this,” she said, thrusting it at me. “I haven’t any money.”

“What for?”

“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Buy it. It’s fivepence.”

I obligingly handed her a shilling.

“I was going to buy that,” Eglantine said, appearing out of nowhere.

“I thought you were over at the Treasure Hunt digging,” I said.

“I was,” she said. “Squares Ten, Eleven, and Twenty-seven. The treasure wasn’t in any of them. I don’t believe it’s in any of them. I don’t believe you ever put the treasure in it.” She turned to Verity. “I told you this morning I wanted to buy the sugared-violets box.”

“You
can’t,” Verity said. “Mr. Henry's already bought it. Be a good girl and go find Mrs. Mering for me. I need to speak with her.”

“It is just the right size to keep buttons in,” Eglantine said. “And I told you this morning I wanted to buy it.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a nice book?” Verity said, offering her
An Old-Fashioned Girl.

“Here’s tuppence,” I said. “If you’ll go fetch Mrs. Mering, I’ll tell you where the treasure is.”

“That’s against the rules,” she said.

“Giving a clue isn’t,” I said. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “The battle of Waterloo.”

“The day or the year?”

“That’s for you to figure out.”

“Will you give me clues to the squares the shilling is in?”

“No,” I said. “And fetch Mrs. Mering before you start digging.”

She ran off.

“Quick, before she comes back,” I said, “what’s your idea?”

She took the sugared-violets box from me, removed the lid, and held the box and lid apart, like a pair of cymbals, and then brought them together with a tinny rap.

“A séance,” she said.

“A séance?” I said. “That’s your idea? I’m sorry I didn’t let Eglantine buy the box.”

“You said the Colonel and Professor Peddick couldn’t resist anything having to do with fish,” she said. “Well, Mrs. Mering can’t resist anything to do with the spirits or séances—”

“Séance?” Mrs. Mering said, swooping up in her Coat of Many Colors. “Are you proposing a séance, Verity?”

“Yes, Aunt Malvinia,” Verity said, hastily wrapping the box and lid in tissue paper, putting it in the wicker swan, and handing them both to me.

“I’m certain you’ll enjoy your purchases, Mr. Henry,” she said, and turned back to Mrs. Mering. “Mr. Henry was just telling me he has never sat in on a séance.”

“Is that
true,
Mr. Henry?” Mrs. Mering said. “O, then we must certainly have one tonight just for you. I must ask the Reverend Mr. Arbitage if he can attend. Mr. Arbitage!” she called, and hurried off.

“Give me the violets box,” Verity whispered.

I turned slightly so no one could see our hands and passed her the tissue-wrapped box. “What are you going to use it for?”

“Table-rapping,” she whispered, sticking it in her reticule. “Tonight we are going to receive a spirit message telling us to go to Coventry.”

“You’re certain this will work?” I said.

“It worked for Madame Iritosky,” she said. “And D. D. Home and the Fox sisters and Florence Cook. It fooled the scientist William Crookes
and
Arthur Conan Doyle. Mrs. Mering thought
you
were a spirit. It will work for us. What could possibly go wrong?”

Mrs. Mering bustled up, robes fluttering. “The Reverend Mr. Arbitage is conducting the cake raffle. I shall have to remember to ask him later. O, Mr. Henry,” she said, taking my arm. “I know we shall have a good séance. I can feel the presence of the spirits hovering near already.”

Actually it was Baine, who had come up behind her and was waiting for an opening to speak.

“Perhaps it is the same spirit you heard the night before last, Mr. Hen—what
is
it, Baine?” Mrs. Mering said impatiently.

“Madame Iritosky, madam,” he said.

“Yes, yes, what about her?”

“She’s here.”

“Into the Valley of Death. . . .”

“The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N

In the Foyer—A Summons—Baine Unpacks and Makes an Interesting Discovery—In the Kitchen—Astounding Anecdotes of Jane’s Second Sight—Preparations for the Séance—I Sympathize with Napoleon—Jewels—Dueling Mediums—A Ghostly Manifestation

Madame Iritosky was waiting in the foyer with nine pieces of luggage, a large black enameled cabinet, and Count de Vecchio.

“Madame Iri
tos
ky!”Mrs. Mering gushed. “What a delightful surprise! And Count! Baine, go and fetch the Colonel and tell him we have guests! He will be so pleased! You know Miss Brown,” she said, indicating Verity, “and this is Mr. Henry.”

We had followed her up to the house, Verity muttering, “What’s
she
doing here? I thought she never left her house.”

“Eet eez a pleasure, Signor Henree,” Count de Vecchio said, bowing to me.

“Why did you not let us know you were coming?” Mrs. Mering said. “Baine could have met you at the station.”

“I did not know myself until last night,” Madame Iritosky said, “when I received a message from the Other Side. One cannot ignore a summons from the spirits.”

She didn’t look like I’d expected. She was a short dumpling of a woman with a button nose, untidy gray hair, and a rather threadbare brown dress. Her hat was shabby, too, and the feathers on it looked like they had been appropriated from a rooster. The sort of person I would have expected Mrs. Mering to have turned up her nose at, but instead she was practically fawning over her.

“A message from the spirits!” Mrs. Mering said, clasping her hands. “How thrilling! What did they say?”

“ ‘Go!’ ”
Madame Iritosky said dramatically.

“Avanti!”
Count de Vecchio said. “They rapped eet out on the table. ‘Go.’ ”

“ ‘Go where?’ I asked them,” Madame Iritosky said, “and waited for them to rap an answer. But there was only silence.”

“Silencio,”
the Count said helpfully.

“ ‘Go where?’ I asked again,” Madame Iritosky said, “and suddenly, there on the table before me was a white light that grew and grew until it became . . .” She paused dramatically. “. . . your letter.”

“My letter!” Mrs. Mering breathed, and I moved toward her, afraid we were going to have another swooning on our hands, but she recovered herself after swaying a moment. “I wrote to her, telling her of the spirits I had seen,” she said to me. “And now they have sent for her!”

“They are trying to tell you something,” Madame Iritosky said, gazing at the ceiling. “I feel their presence. They are here among us now.”

So were Tossie and Terence and Baine. And Colonel Mering, looking extremely irritated. He was wearing waders and carrying a fishing net. “What’s this all about?” he grumbled. “Better be important. Discussing the Battle of Monmouth with Peddick.”

“Miss Mering,
amor mia,”
the Count said, going immediately over to Tossie. “I am delighted to meet with you again.” He bowed over Tossie’s hand like he was going to kiss it.

“How do you do?” Terence said, stepping in front of her and extending his hand stiffly. “Terence St. Trewes, Miss Mering’s fiancé.”

The Count and Madame Iritosky exchanged glances.

“Mesiel, you will never
guess
who’s come!” Mrs. Mering said. “Madame Iritosky, allow me to introduce my husband, Colonel Mering!”

“Colonel Mering, thank you for welcoming us into your home,” Madame Iritosky said, bobbing her head and her rooster feathers at him.

“Hrrumm,” the Colonel muttered through his mustache.

“I told you I had seen a spirit, Mesiel,” Mrs. Mering said. “Madame Iritosky has come to contact it for us. She says the spirits are among us even now.”

“Don’t see how,” Colonel Mering grumbled. “No room for them in this damned foyer. Have a house. Don’t see why we have to all stand out here with the bags.”

“O, of course,” Mrs. Mering said, seeming to notice for the first time how crowded the foyer had got. “Come, Madame Iritosky, Count, let us go into the library. Baine, have Jane bring tea, and take Madame Iritosky’s and Count de Vecchio’s things up to their rooms.”

“Including the cabinet, madam?” Baine said.

“The—” Mrs. Mering said and looked, surprised, at the pile of luggage. “My, what a lot of luggage! Are you going on a journey, Madame Iritosky?”

She and the Count exchanged glances again. “Who can say?” Madame Iritosky said. “Whither the spirits command, I obey.”

“O, of course,” Mrs. Mering said. “No, Baine, Madame Iritosky will need her cabinet for our séance. Put it in the parlor.”

I wondered where on earth it would fit, in among all the ottomans and firescreens and aspidistras.

“And take the rest of their things upstairs,” Mrs. Mering went on, “and unpack them.”

“No!” Madame Iritosky said sharply. “I prefer to unpack my own things. The psychic lines of force, you know.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Mering, who probably hadn’t any more idea of what psychic lines of force were than the rest of us, said. “After tea, I want to take you out to the grounds and show you the place where I first saw the spirit.”

“No!” Madame Iritosky said. “My powers are quite diminished by the long journey. Trains!” She shuddered. “After tea, I must rest. Tomorrow you may show me the entire house and grounds.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Mering said, sounding disappointed.

“We will examine Muchings End for spiritual habitation,” Madame Iritosky said. “There is definitely a spirit presence here. We shall establish communications.”

“Oh, what fun!” Tossie said. “Will there be manifestations?”

“Possibly,” Madame Iritosky said, putting her hand to her forehead again.