The Incident at Fives Castle (An Angela Marchmont Mystery #5) (4 page)

‘Oh! I beg your pardon,’ she exclaimed in embarrassment. ‘I—I didn’t realize anybody was here.’

It was quite evident what she thought they were doing. Angela and Freddy turned in surprise, and Angela, to her horror, felt herself going red.

‘It’s quite all right, Lady Strathmerrick,’ she said hurriedly and somewhat confusedly. ‘Freddy was just helping me with my earring.’

Even to her own ears it sounded feeble. The Countess darted her a glance of disbelief and withdrew before anything else could be said, leaving the two of them standing there, staring after her.

Once the ladies and Freddy had retired to the drawing-room, the rest of the men relaxed a little. Port was handed round and cigars were lit.

The Earl of Strathmerrick, while of little actual importance in the real business of government, was known for his impressive acumen in bringing the right people together at the right time, and acting as a sort of go-between for key events in the national and international sphere. It was at Fives Castle that an important treaty had been signed which, it was thought, had prevented another war from starting immediately after the last one had ended. It was here, too, that during three days of talks between two great men, one of them had agreed to abandon his ambitions and allow the other a free run at becoming Prime Minister in return for an unspecified reward. Most people were unaware of the Earl’s reputation, but to those in the know, if Lord Strathmerrick invited people for a weekend at Fives Castle it was a sure sign that something important was afoot.

This vital auxiliary of world affairs now lit his cigar and gave a cough.

‘Filthy weather,’ he began. ‘When did you say Klausen was going to arrive, Jameson?’

‘He didn’t say,’ replied Henry. ‘He was very vague about the whole thing.’

‘Well, it may be too late now,’ said the Earl. ‘I gather the road is impassable already. Why do these scientific chaps have to be so damned secretive? It’s all very well keeping it from the world at large, but if he’s going to convince us that he really has come up with the goods, then he’s going to have to do better than this. How do we know he’s really going to turn up and that this isn’t all some kind of childish joke on his part?’

‘Come now, Strathmerrick,’ said Sandy Buchanan. ‘I don’t think there’s any cause for concern yet. Klausen is merely demonstrating a healthy sense of caution—not unreasonable when one’s dealing with something as potentially explosive as this.’

Aubrey Nash laughed shortly.

‘Yes, “explosive” is the word, all right,’ he said.

‘Tell me, Nash,’ said Buchanan. ‘What do your superiors think of it all?’

‘Oh, they’re very interested indeed,’ the Ambassador assured him. ‘Of course, this whole thing has been arranged at the last minute, so they had to put me onto it as there was no time to send someone over from the Department of State—but make no mistake, if Klausen’s discovery can be proved to be the real thing, then they will be very keen to come in with the British Government on the development side—very keen.’

‘What is the nature of this weapon, exactly?’ said Claude Burford. ‘I mean, I know it’s some kind of powerful explosive, but I don’t quite understand how it’s meant to work.’

‘Oh, neither do we,’ said Buchanan with a laugh. ‘We are having to take Klausen on trust. All I can tell you is that he has been conducting experiments on certain chemical substances with the aim of breaking them down into their constituent atoms. I believe he has been attempting to make these atoms react to each other in such a way as to create energy. Beyond that, however, I’m as much in the dark as you.’

Gabe Bradley now addressed the Foreign Secretary: ‘If this weapon is as powerful as Professor Klausen seems to think, then I guess the United States and Great Britain won’t be the only countries to be interested in it, is that right, sir?’

‘Yes,’ said Buchanan. ‘We already know of two or three other countries that are working on the same thing. According to our intelligence sources, one country in particular—I think we can all guess which one—has come close to a solution. It’s vital that we get there before them—all the more so, as we know that until recently someone here was informing them of our progress.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Aubrey Nash. ‘The famous Whitehall spy scandal that blew up so spectacularly last year.’

‘And cost Ogilvy both his ministry and his seat in Parliament,’ agreed Buchanan. ‘His constituents would never forgive him for his part in allowing a spy to operate so close to the heart of the Government, practically in full view of everybody. He pleaded incompetence, of course, but there were mutterings at the time that he must have been involved himself, which is nonsense, although I must say he didn’t exactly cover himself with glory. His wife was very ill at the time, however, so that must be his excuse for not paying attention to what was happening right there under his very nose.’

‘They caught the fellow, though,’ said Claude.

‘Yes, but not before he’d passed on who knows what highly confidential information to his superiors,’ said Buchanan. ‘It was all extremely embarrassing for the Government and quite frankly it’s a wonder we survived the scandal.’

‘Are you quite sure the whole thing was cleared up?’ said Aubrey Nash. ‘I seem to recall there was some suggestion that this spy, whatever his name was, was not working alone.’

‘We’re as sure as we can be, which is not very,’ said Henry Jameson frankly. ‘Golovin was clever—he knew his job all right, but he swore he was a lone agent.’

‘And you think he may have passed on news of Klausen’s work?’ said Nash.

‘It’s possible,’ said Jameson, ‘although he can’t have passed on anything of great importance in that respect, since even we don’t know very much about it. Klausen didn’t want to reveal all until he was quite sure of his facts.’

‘And now he is?’

‘So he says,’ said Jameson. ‘He told us only last week that he’d finally confirmed his theories. He was terribly excited about it and wanted to share the news immediately. That’s why this meeting was arranged at such late notice. I’m sorry if you had to cancel your other plans.’

Aubrey Nash waved his hand.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said. ‘We had nothing planned that couldn’t wait. This is much more important.’

‘I only hope he manages to get here, then,’ said the Earl. He looked worried.

‘I’m sure he will,’ said Jameson. ‘Besides, he promised to telephone if there were any difficulties.’

‘What if he doesn’t come, though?’ said Gabe Bradley. ‘It’s a pity he didn’t let us have a copy of the documents before the meeting.’

‘Oh, he did,’ said Sandy Buchanan, and the other men looked at him in astonishment. Henry Jameson was sure the Foreign Secretary was enjoying the sensation he had caused.

‘Then why didn’t you say so?’ said Nash. ‘We might have taken a look at them in preparation.’

Buchanan shook his head.

‘Klausen entrusted me with a copy on sufferance, only because I insisted that it would be better for security purposes if he did—and on condition that I show the documents to nobody before he got here.’

‘But surely that doesn’t matter now?’ said the Earl. ‘Why, we are all here for the express purpose of looking at them.’

‘True,’ said Buchanan. ‘But as Klausen explained to me, the documents themselves are completely useless without his presence, since they are so advanced in nature that only he or someone equally qualified can explain them. Believe me,’ he went on in response to their protests, ‘if I thought it would do any good I should go and get them now, but it won’t. I’ve looked at them, and can’t make head or tail of them. They seem to be in some kind of code, for one thing.’

‘This Klausen fellow must have a sort of morbid persecution complex, to go to all these lengths,’ said the Earl.

Jameson shook his head.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘You know, don’t you, that he was invited by the other side to work for them? When he said no they made threats against him—threats which were pretty vague but which convinced him that his life was in danger. That was a few years ago when he was a brilliant young scientist and before he won the International Prize for physics, but for some time he never travelled anywhere without a bodyguard.’

‘Why should his life be in danger, though?’ objected Gabe Bradley. ‘Surely what the other side want is his knowledge and expertise? They’re hardly going to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.’

‘He feared he was in danger of being kidnapped,’ said Jameson. ‘The other lot aren’t above drugging people and spiriting them away to work on their scientific projects, you know.’

‘Well, that may or may not be the case,’ said the Earl. ‘And if it is, and if Klausen is intercepted and carried off en route to Fives Castle, I only hope you’ve put the papers in a safe place, Buchanan.’

He spoke half-jokingly, but the Foreign Secretary nodded seriously.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They are locked securely away. Nobody will be able to find them without searching very carefully for them.’

‘Well, then,’ said Aubrey Nash, ‘all we can do now is wait for him to arrive—if he ever does.’

Sandy Buchanan stood up and walked over to the window. It was still snowing thickly.

‘Don’t worry, he will,’ he said.

The next morning Angela was already dressed and was just brushing her hair in front of the glass when there was a knock at her door.

‘May I come in?’ said Gertie, peeping into the room. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were shining with the light of exercise. ‘The boys came and dragged me out of bed early this morning,’ she explained. ‘We’ve been building a snowman. I say, Angela, it’s the most gorgeous day—simply stunning. The snow is three feet thick in places.’

She ran over to the window and looked out, and Angela joined her. As Gertie had said, it was a beautiful day. The early sun gleamed off the thick covering of white and threw everything into sharp relief. It had been too dark to see much the day before when she had arrived, but now Angela saw that Fives Castle was set on the ridge of a hill, looking out over a deep glen carpeted with fir trees. Below her window was a grand terrace from which a flight of steps led down to a sloping lawn. The whole of the landscape before her was hidden under a counterpane of crisp white. Out on the lawn she saw Gus and Bobby capering about a half-finished snowman, throwing snowballs at each other. She could hear their distant yells of laughter and was very tempted to join them.

‘I actually came in to cadge a cigarette,’ said Gertie. ‘Father’s had me under penance ever since that bust-up at the Copernicus Club, and I’ve had to promise not to smoke as he doesn’t approve of it in women, so when I’m at home I’m reduced to begging from others.’

‘Claude doesn’t seem to approve of it either, I notice,’ said Angela, handing her cigarette-case to Gertie.

‘Oh yes, he’s a frightful stiff,’ said Gertie. ‘He’s always telling Priss what to do.’

‘Do you think he and Priss are entirely suited?’ said Angela hesitantly.

Gertie shrugged.

‘You wouldn’t think so, would you?’ she said. ‘But Priss seems to think they are. She accepted him, after all. Come on, let’s go and have some breakfast and then go out.’

She seemed uninterested in her elder sister’s happiness or otherwise in marriage, so Angela gave it up and followed Gertie from the room.

After breakfast, wrapped up in their warmest things, they went into the garden, where Gus and Bobby were still running about with shrieks of delight. They had been joined by Clemmie, who had shed her customary cross expression and was enjoying herself as much as her brothers.

‘We’ve finished our snowman,’ said Bobby to Angela. ‘He’s looking a bit lop-sided, though. Gertie ran off and we couldn’t reach to get his head on properly.’

‘Let’s put it right, then,’ said Angela. She set to work then stepped back to judge the effect. ‘There—that’s a bit better, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Gus.

‘But this snowman is looking awfully lonely,’ went on Angela. ‘I think what he needs is a snow-woman to keep him company.’

‘A snow-woman! A snow-woman!’ yelled Gus and Bobby, and set to work with alacrity.

With five of them helping, it was not long before a second snow-figure was standing next to the first one.

‘She’s a beauty,’ said Angela, gazing at the snow-woman who, despite their best efforts, was afflicted with an unsightly hump.

‘She needs a hat!’ said Gus, and the two boys ran off into the castle in search of suitable attire for their new creation. Meanwhile, Gertie took another of Angela’s cigarettes and went behind a tree to smoke it, so as not to be seen from the castle windows.

‘I don’t see why Priss is allowed to smoke while I’m not,’ she said grumpily.

‘Because Priss behaves herself,’ said Clemmie.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Gertie. ‘Of course she doesn’t.’

‘Well then, at least she doesn’t get caught,’ said the younger girl.

‘That’s true enough,’ said Gertie with regret. ‘I’ve never learned the knack of keeping my sins a secret. I always seem to commit them in full view of the world. Perhaps I ought to take a lesson from Priss, then.’

‘She was being a bit obvious last night at dinner, I thought,’ said Clemmie.

‘What do you mean?’ said Gertie.

‘Why, flirting madly with Freddy, of course.’

‘Oh, Freddy,’ said Gertie dismissively. ‘Everyone flirts with Freddy. And Freddy flirts with everyone. In fact, I ask you, is it even possible to speak to Freddy without flirting with him?’

‘Difficult,’ Clemmie acknowledged. ‘You were pretty obvious too, though, with Sandy Buchanan.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Gertie.

‘Yes you were. You were hanging on his every word and simpering like an idiot. She used to have the most awful crush on him, you know,’ said Clemmie to Angela. ‘She was distraught when he got married.’

‘That’s true enough,’ admitted Gertie. ‘I thought after his first wife died I might be in with a chance, but no such luck.’

‘Isn’t he a little old for you? He must be at least fifty,’ said Angela in some amusement.

‘I like older men,’ said Gertie dreamily. ‘They’re so masterful and capable.’

‘And he obviously likes younger women—just not you,’ said Clemmie unfeelingly.

‘I wonder where he found her,’ said Gertie. ‘Eleanor, I mean. Do you know anything about her? I don’t. What does he see in her? She’s like a wild animal watching out for predators—all narrow eyes and sudden glances. What’s bothering her?’

‘Us, probably,’ said Clemmie. ‘We were a bit loud at dinner last night.’

They paused to watch as a procession of servants passed along the terrace, carrying chairs and tables.

‘Are they for the dance?’ asked Angela.

‘Yes,’ said Gertie. ‘I dare say we shall be wanted later on to help.’

‘How many people are you expecting?’ said Angela.

‘I don’t know, in this snow,’ said Gertie, ‘but with the servants and the people from the village it might be anything up to a hundred or even a hundred and fifty. You’ll have to join in, of course, as will the rest of the party. You ought to see Father doing a reel, Angela—it’s quite a sight.’

‘I shall look forward to it,’ said Angela.

Just then they heard a voice hailing them, and they turned to see Aubrey Nash and Gabe Bradley coming across the lawn to join them accompanied by Gus and Bobby, who were laden down with scarves and hats.

‘I wonder what happened to the Danish professor,’ said Angela. ‘He was supposed to arrive yesterday, wasn’t he?’

‘Perhaps he got buried in a snowdrift and expired of cold,’ said Gertie.

‘Who’s that?’ said Clemmie.

‘Some professor or other. Klausen, I think his name was,’ said Gertie. ‘Perhaps we ought to send out a search party.’

‘Professor Lars Klausen? The famous physicist?’ said Clemmie suddenly.

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Gertie. ‘Why, do you know him?’

‘If he’s the same one then yes, of course I know him. Why, everyone has heard of him. Don’t you remember? He won the International Prize for physics a couple of years ago, for his work on atomic structures.’

Gertie made a face expressive of an utter lack of interest in atomic structures.

‘Oh, but he’s brilliant,’ said Clemmie enthusiastically. ‘Is he really meant to be coming? Why didn’t anybody tell me? His theories are absolutely the latest thing.’

‘Well it doesn’t look as though he’s coming now, does it?’ said Gertie. ‘The road is impassable. Hallo, Mr. Nash,’ she said as the others came up. ‘Have they set you on to clearing the drive?’

‘I can do that if you like, Lady Gertrude,’ replied Aubrey Nash pleasantly, ‘but first of all, I hear there’s a snowman in a state of some embarrassment.’

Gus and Bobby sniggered as Gabe placed a shabby old bonnet from some fifty years earlier on the snow-woman, and they all spent the rest of the morning outside, in a general mood of rising hilarity. After an energetic snowball fight there then began a particularly silly game of tag, involving complicated rules invented by Gertie, during which even Angela found herself giggling like a girl. At lunchtime they all returned to the castle, pink-cheeked and laughing, to find Lord Strathmerrick striding about in the entrance-hall, barking orders to the servants and looking cross. He gave the newcomers an impatient glance and hurried off somewhere.

‘What’s wrong with Father?’ said Gertie when they got into the drawing-room. ‘He’s not looking too happy.’

‘Oh, he’s probably cross about the telephone,’ replied Lady Strathmerrick. ‘It seems the snow has brought the telegraph lines down, and the telephone isn’t working.’

‘Then we must be completely cut off, I guess,’ said Gabe. ‘The road is impassable and there is no means of communication from the castle to the outside world.’

‘Oh, it’s not quite that bad,’ said Gertie. ‘The road’s only impassable by motor-car, but there’s a path through the trees behind the castle and it ought to be easy enough to get to the village on foot—especially on skis. It’s less than half a mile away, after all. As I said, we’ve been cut off before and it’s never that bad. And I’m sure they’ll get the lines fixed soon.’

‘It won’t be today or tomorrow, though,’ said Lady Strathmerrick, ‘and I think that’s what your father is concerned about. We are still one guest short, remember, and I think he is a little worried that the professor might have got stuck in the snow on the way here.’

Gus and Bobby looked at each other, wide-eyed, but said nothing.

They made a quick luncheon, for the household was busy with preparations for the dance that night, then most of the men disappeared in twos and threes into various rooms, presumably to discuss important matters of state.

‘I believe I shall take a turn out of doors,’ announced Freddy. ‘What could be pleasanter than to be the first to tread in virgin snow? There’s something unaccountably satisfying about planting one’s feet into a blanket of shining white, hearing the crunch underfoot and looking back at the single trail of crisp footprints that bears witness to one’s pioneering spirit. If man ever travels to the moon, I imagine he will feel very much the same.’

Gertie snorted.

‘Ass,’ she said. ‘What time did you get out of bed? The rest of us have been out in the garden all morning and churned all the snow up already. You’ll have to go to the West meadow if you don’t want to see anyone’s footprints but your own.’

‘Then I shall go to the West meadow,’ said Freddy, unperturbed. He rose and went to put on his boots. Angela bumped into him in the hall just as he came downstairs, and he looked about him mysteriously, put a finger over his lips and drew her into a little recess.

‘What have you found out?’ he said in a stage-whisper.

Angela was surprised.

‘What about?’ she said.

‘Why, about the secret meeting, of course,’ he said.

‘Nothing,’ she replied.

He clicked his tongue impatiently.

‘And you call yourself a detective?’ he said.

‘I don’t, as a matter of fact,’ said Angela, but he was not listening and went on:

‘This time of year is terribly slow for good stories. I want to find out what’s going on here so I’ve got something for old Bickerstaffe when I get back to the
Clarion
offices. In spite of my astounding successes recently, I’m still considered something of a raw, untried junior, and I want to establish myself firmly in his good books.’

‘But if it’s something of national importance, ought you to be publishing it in that rag of yours?’

‘The
Clarion
is a highly-respected organ,’ said Freddy with dignity.

‘Of course it is,’ said Angela kindly.

‘And naturally we wouldn’t publish anything that was confidential. But don’t you see? This has nothing to do with what appears in the paper. I just want Bickerstaffe to know that whenever something of interest is going on, Frederick Pilkington-Soames Esquire is there on the spot, notebook in hand.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Angela. ‘You don’t care about publishing a story. You’re just anxious to cut a dash with your editor by showing him that you know something he doesn’t.’

‘
Précisément
,’ said Freddy. ‘And it’s for that reason I need your help. You wouldn’t want to see the son of your oldest friend lose his job through a dearth of material that was not his fault, now, would you?’

Angela made no comment about his description of Cynthia Pilkington-Soames as her oldest friend.

‘But what am I supposed to do?’ she said.

‘Why, just keep your eyes and ears open, and see what you can find out. Your pal from the Intelligence service would be a good place to start.’

‘If you think I am going to try and pump Henry Jameson for information on matters of national security you are very much mistaken,’ said Angela. ‘Besides, if he knows his job—and I happen to know he does—he will be as close-mouthed as an oyster.’

‘Well, then, what about this Nash fellow? You ought to be able to get something out of him for old times’ sake, at least.’

‘What exactly do you mean by that?’ said Angela.

Freddy smirked and tapped his nose.

‘I know more than you might think,’ he said, then as Angela regarded him with suspicion, continued, ‘as does Selma Nash.’