Look to the Lady (31 page)

‘You were at Ernie Walker's garage, as a matter of fact, Val. He specializes in that sort of thing. It was the second place I looked. No, Penny, I regret to say that in this case I do not find myself wearing my laurel wreath with that sense of righteous satisfaction which is my wont. The Professor and the Benwells get all the credit. The way they cleared up that bunch and scarpered fills me with a sense of my own clumsiness.'

‘Ah,' said Beth, ‘that was the word. “Scarpa”. Father was awfully interested in your Gypsy friend, who had some most extraordinary words. What does that one mean?'

‘ “Bunk” is the best English translation,' said Mr Campion. ‘To bunk, that is – to clear off, scat, vamoose, beat it, make a getaway, hop it, or more simply, “to go”. Jacob is a great lad, but Joey is the wizard. That horse was quite manageable when I rode her over, so bang goes your last illusion, Penny, of me as a second Dick Turpin. Joey must have had his eye on Bitter Aloes for days, and as soon as the opportunity offered he left the fight and slipped into her box with some filthy concoction of his own. The crooks use a hypodermic, but I fancy he has other methods.'

‘I haven't got any illusions about you,' said Penny. ‘I think you ought to go into a Home. When I heard someone had fallen off the Tower, I took it for granted it was you. Yes, a good comfortable home with Lugg to dress you, and plenty of nice kind keepers who would laugh at your remarks. In the first place, I happen to know for a fact that that story about your coming into a fortune from your Uncle the Bishop is all rubbish. Lugg says he left you a hundred pounds and a couple of good books.'

Mr Campion looked uncomfortable. ‘Curse Lugg,' he said. ‘So much for my efforts to appear a gilded amateur. I'm sorry, Val, but this nosy little creature will have to be told. Yes, Angel-face, the poor vulgar gentleman is a Professional. I was employed, of course.'

He lay back in his chair, the sunlight glinting on his spectacles. The three young people stared at him.

‘Employed?' said Val. ‘Who employed you? It couldn't have been the Old Boy, because – I hate to be fearfully rude, but you must be – er – well, awfully expensive.'

‘Incredibly,' said Mr Campion placidly. ‘Only the highest in the land can possibly afford my services. But then, I need an immense income to support my army of spies, and my palatial offices, to say nothing of my notorious helot, Lugg.'

‘He's lying,' said Penny, yawning. ‘I wish you had been employed, though. You've done such a lot for us. I feel you ought to get something out of it. I'd offer you my hand if I thought I could bear you about the house. Ooh!' she added suddenly, ‘look!'

Her exclamation had been occasioned by the appearance of a magnificent limousine, whose long grey body gleamed in the sunlight as it whispered expensively up the drive to the front door. Val and Penny exchanged glances.

In the car, seated behind the chauffeur, was a single slim aristocratic figure, with the unmistakable poker back of the old regime.

‘There he is,' said Penny. ‘That's why if you stay to lunch, Beth, you'll have to have it with Albert and me in the morning room. That's why Branch is in his show swallowtails and we've got the flag flying. Here comes the honoured guest.'

Beth leant forward in her chair. ‘Is that
him
?' she said. ‘No top hat? I haven't seen a good top hat since I came to England.'

‘Very remiss,' said Mr Campion sternly. ‘Coming down here representing the Crown without a top hat – why, the thing's absurd. Hang it, when a policeman brings a summons, which is a sort of invitation from the Crown, he wears a top hat.'

‘No?' said Beth.

‘No,' said Mr Campion. ‘Still, the principle's the same. I don't think it's cricket to come down on a special formal occasion in an ordinary trilby that any man might wear. Look here, Val, you'd better wear yours at lunch just to show him. We keep the old flag flying, dammit.'

Beth was puzzled. ‘Why don't you get lunch with this Lord whatever he is?'

‘Because it's an ancient ceremony,' said Penny. ‘Not the lunch – unless cook's muffed it – but the whole business. We shall be expected to be all voile and violets at tea-time.'

‘Leaving the Honourable Gentleman out of the question,' said Val, ‘and returning to your last sensational announcement, Campion, in which you stated that you were not enjoying our shooting and hunting, as it were, for private but for professional reasons, may I ask, if this is so, who put you on to it, and where is your hope of reward?'

‘Oh, I shall get my fourpence, don't you worry, young sir,' said Mr Campion. ‘The gent who put me up to this is a real toff.' He paused. Coming across the lawn towards them, sedate, and about as graceful as a circus elephant, was Mr Lugg. As he came nearer they saw that his immense white face wore an almost reverent expression.

‘'Ere,' he said huskily as he approached his master, ‘see oo's come? Orders are for you to nip into the 'ouse and report in the library. Lumme,' he added, ‘you in flannels, too. I believe there's an 'ole comin' in the sole of them shoes.'

Mr Campion rose to his feet. ‘Don't worry, Lugg,' he said. ‘I shouldn't think he'd go into that.'

In the general astonishment it was Penny whose curiosity found voice.

‘You?' she said. ‘He wants to see you? Whatever for?'

Mr Campion turned a mildly reproachful eye in their direction. ‘I thought you'd have got it a long while before now,' he said. ‘He is my employer. If all goes well I shall be able to treat you to a fish-and-chip supper tonight.'

—

A
T HALF-PAST
three in the afternoon, with the strong sunlight tracing the diamond pattern of the window panes on the polished floor of the Colonel's library, lending that great austere room some of the indolent warmth of the garden, five men surrounded the heavy table desk on which the yellow length of an historic document was spread.

The great house was pleasantly silent. There were birds singing in the creeper and the droning of a bumble bee against the panes, but the thick walls successfully shut out any sounds of domestic bustle. The air was redolent with the faint mustiness of old leather-bound books, mingling delightfully with the scent of the flowers from the bed outside the windows.

The distinguished stranger, a tall, grey-headed man with cold blue eyes and a curious dry little voice, coughed formally.

‘There's really no need for me to read all this through, Colonel,' he said. ‘After all, we've read it through together several times before. It makes one feel old. Every reading means another decade gone.'

He sighed and shot a faint, unexpectedly shy smile at Campion and the Professor, who were standing side by side. The old American was alert and deeply interested, but his companion stood fingering his tie awkwardly, an almost imbecile smile on his mild, affable face. Val stood at his father's elbow, his young face deadly serious, a distinct hint of nervousness in his manner. The memory of his first excursion to the secret room on the night of Mrs Shannon's death was still clear in his mind. Sir Percival himself was more human than Campion or the Professor had ever seen him before. In sharing the secret of the Room with his son he seemed to have halved a burden that had been a little over-heavy for him alone.

‘I think this one clause will be sufficient,' the visitor continued, placing a forefinger on a rubric at the foot of the sheet. He cleared his throat again and began to read huskily and without expression.

‘ “And the said representative of Her Gracious Majesty or Her Heirs shall go up into the chamber accompanied by the master and his eldest son, providing he be of sufficient age, and they shall show him and prove to his satisfaction that the treasure which they hold in the stead of the Crown be whole and free from blemish, that it may be known to Us that they have kept their loyal and sacred trust. This shall be done by the light of day that neither use of candle or lamp shall be needed to show the true state of the said vessel.

‘ “Further, We also command that in times of trouble, or such days as the House of Gyrth may be in danger, that the master allow two witnesses to go with them, strong men and true, sworn to keep faith and all secrecy as to the Treasure and the manner of its keeping.

‘ “Given under Our Hand and Seal, this day …' and so on. I think that covers the matter, Colonel.'

His quiet voice died away, and rolling up the parchment he returned it to his host who locked it in a dispatch-box on the table.

The visitor turned to Campion and the Professor.

‘Strong men and true,' he said, smiling at them. ‘Of course, I understand, strictly speaking, my dear Albert, that “such days as the House of Gyrth may be in danger” are past. But I certainly agree with the Colonel that in the circumstances we might stretch a point in this – er – archaic formula. It seems the only courtesy, Professor, that we can extend to you for your tremendous assistance in this unfortunate and distressing affair.'

The Professor made a deprecatory gesture. ‘There's nothing I would consider a greater honour,' he said.

Mr Campion opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and was silent.

The Colonel took a small iron instrument which looked like a tiny crowbar from his desk and led the way out of the room. They followed him through the hall and down the long stone corridor into the seldom used banqueting room in the east wing. They passed no one in their journey. Branch had gathered his myrmidons in their own quarters at the back of the west wing, while Penny and Beth remained discreetly in the drawing room.

In the cool shadow of the great apartment the Colonel paused and turned to them, a slightly embarrassed expression in his very blue eyes. The visitor relieved him of an awkward duty.

‘The Colonel and I,' he began prefacing his remark with his now familiar cough, ‘feel that we should adhere to tradition in this matter. The entrance to the – er – chamber is, and always has been, a closely guarded secret, known only to my predecessors and the Colonel's. I feel sure that I shall offend neither of you if I ask you to lend me your handkerchiefs and allow me to blindfold you just until we approach the treasure.'

The Professor took out a voluminous silk bandanna which proved more suitable than Mr Campion's white cambric. The blindfolding was accomplished with great solemnity.

On any other occasion such an incident might have been absurd, but there was a deadly earnestness in the precaution which no one in the group could ignore after the terrifying events of the preceding weeks. Val's hand shook as he tied the knot behind Campion's head and some of his nervousness was conveyed to the other man. After all, they were about to share a secret of no ordinary magnitude. Campion had not forgotten the expression upon Mrs Shannon's face when she had looked up for a moment after peering into the window of the grim treasure house.

The Professor, too, was unusually apprehensive. It was evident that in spite of his vast store of archaic knowledge he had no inkling of what he was to expect.

The visitor's voice came to them in the darkness. ‘Val, if you'll take Campion's arm I'll look after Professor Cairey. Colonel, will you go first?'

Val linked his arm through Campion's, and he felt himself being led forward, the last of a little procession.

‘Look out,' Val's voice sounded unsteadily in his ear. ‘The stairs begin here.'

They ascended, and once more the wood creaked beneath his feet. They went up in silence for what seemed a long time. There were so many turns that he lost his sense of direction almost immediately. He had suffered many odd experiences in his life, but this strange halting procession was more unnerving than anything he had ever known. Curiosity is the most natural of human emotions, but there came a point in the journey when he almost wished that the mystery might remain unsolved, for him at any rate, for ever. He could hear the Professor breathing hard in front of him, and he knew that it was not the steepness of the stairs which inconvenienced the old man.

Val's pressure on his arm increased. ‘Wait,' he said so softly that he was scarcely audible. Then followed a period of silence, and they went on again. The stairs had ended and they were crossing a stone floor. Then again there was a halt. The air still smelt fresh and the song of the birds sounded very near.

‘Step,' whispered Val, as the procession restarted. ‘Keep your head down. I shall have to come behind you.'

Mr Campion felt himself clambering up a narrow stone spiral staircase, and here the air was scarcer and there was a faint, almost intangible smell of spices. He heard the grating of iron on stone and stepped forward on to a level floor. Val was close behind him, and once again there was the grating of the iron, and then complete silence. He felt his scalp tingling. He sensed that he was in a very small space, and with them he was certain, in the instinctive fashion that one is conscious of such things, there was something else, something incredibly old, something terrible.

‘Take off the bandages.'

He was never sure whether it was the Colonel or the visitor who had spoken. The voice was unrecognizable. He felt Val's icy fingers pulling at the knot behind his head. Then the cambric slipped from his eyes.

The first thing of which he was conscious as he blinked was the extraordinary crimson light in the room, and he turned instinctively to its source, the circular window with the heavy stone framework which had been sealed at some time with blood-red glass. The sunlight outside was very strong so that the tiny cell seemed full of particles of glittering red dust.

Campion turned from the window and started violently. The Gyrths' secret lay revealed.

Set immediately below the window so that the light fell directly upon it was a little stone altar, and kneeling before it, directly in front of the huddled group, was a figure in full Tourney armour.