The adulteress (32 page)

I peeped out and saw him open the door of the room and disappear within.

I crept back to my room.

This is a gigantic fraud, I thought. And what happened to Uncle Carl? I was certain now that he was dead and buried in the haunted patch.

I knew the spot. It was where the crucifix had been.

My mind was working so fast that I almost played with the idea of getting a spade and digging up that grave.

That would be unwise. I could not do it on my own. I must get help.

How I wished there was someone who could advise me.

I played with the idea of calling in Dr. Forster. Could I bring him in? I did not know why I thought so much about him. It must be his connection with Enderby and the fact that I had first seen him in that spot where I had found Gerard.

No. Mr. Rosen was the one, although I could not imagine what his reaction would be to the bizarre story I should have to tell him.

It was foolish to expect to sleep. I lay in bed impatiently waiting for the morning to come.

I was out of bed at dawn and as I reached for my dressing gown I saw that the button which I had meant to sew on yesterday had come off.

A horrible thought struck me. Suppose I had dropped it in what was ironically called the "sick room"? They would know I had been there. Then I should certainly be in danger.

Everything must appear as normal. I went down to break-

fast. Dickon was there. He smiled at me almost patronizingly, I thought, and it occurred to me that had he been different, if I could have trusted him, I might have confided in him.

I would not dream of doing that. Sometimes the thought came to me that he was involved with it all, but I did not see for what purpose, and Dickon would always have to have a purpose, one which worked to his advantage.

"You're in a hurry this morning," he said.

"No."

"And you seem preoccupied."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Thinking of the adventures of the day to come, I'll swear."

It was almost as though he knew.

"I don't suppose they will be as exciting as yours."

He laughed. "Zipporah," he said, "I wish sometimes that you liked me a little. It worries your mother and mine that you're not more fond of me."

"If esteem is wanted it has to be earned."

"I know," he said mockingly. "Alas."

I stood up.

"So soon," he said. "You've eaten scarcely anything."

"I've had enough."

"I'll see you later."

I did not answer and went out.

I should need my horse because I was going into the town to see Mr. Rosen. First, though, I was going to ride out to the haunted patch to see if the cross was there.

I felt better now that I was taking action. I began to piece everything together. My uncle had died. . . . Would someone have helped him to die? I wondered what advantage that would have brought, for Jessie had seen that he was more use to her alive than dead. That was why she had brought in her fellow actors. . . . They knew how to play their parts .... What was their motive? To enjoy a comfortable life at Eversleigh and take what they could. I thought of the statue at Grasslands.

Mr. Rosen would take charge and deal with everything.

I had reached the haunted patch. I slipped off my horse and tethered him to a bush. This was necessary as I couldn't see from the path whether the cross was there or not. I stepped over the palings and walked forward. I stared down at the disturbed earth. The cross had been taken away.

Now I was certain. Jessie had placed it there because she had been truly scared by the ghost. Afterward she must have felt she had been foolish to do so and had taken it away.

I must get to Mr. Rosen at once.

I mounted my horse. How silent it was. It was really rather lonely country between Enderby and Eversleigh. There was the short stretch where the trees grew close together and I slowed down to walk my horse through them.

I heard a sudden movement. I wasn't sure what it was . . . perhaps the displacement of a stone . . . but it startled me and I felt myself shiver with apprehension for I was certain that I was not alone among the trees. A sensation of horror seemed to crawl over me then. Instinctively I knew that I was in danger. I hesitated whether to ride on or dash back toward Enderby. I had no time to do either for a man was coming toward me. He carried a gun which was pointing at me. I could see eyes glittering through the highwayman's mask, and his cocked hat was drawn down over his face.

I was staring into the muzzle of a gun.

I stammered: "I have very little money with me."

He did not speak; he raised the gun and I knew I was looking into the face of death. He did not want my money; he wanted my life.

This was the end.

I heard the report. I was slipping from my horse. There was a buzzing in my ears and I saw blood spattered on the trees.

The dizziness was passing. I was not dead then.

A body was lying on the grass. Someone else had appeared. This can't be real, I thought. Because it was Dickon standing there with the pistol in his hand.

He was calling to me. "You're all right. I got him . . . just in time. I've shot my first man. It was you ... or him, Zip-porah."

"You ..." I began.

He knelt down beside the figure on the grass. "Dead," he said. "Right through the heart. Good shot. And in the nick of time."

"Who . . . ? What . . . ?"

He said: "Didn't you see what was going on? No . . . not till what might have been too late. It was so clear to me. . . . But let's go. There's a lot of talking to be done."

So Dickon had saved my life.

The first thing we did was ride into the town to Rosen, Stead and Rosen. Mr. Rosen senior sat very still as he listened to the story Dickon had to unfold.

"I shot Amos Carew," he said. "He was dressed as a highwayman . . . and it was either him or Zipporah."

Mr. Rosen raised his eyebrows and they went higher and higher as he listened. "It was self-defense," he said. "Quite understandable. No charges can be brought."

"I knew something was wrong from the moment I arrived," said Dickon. "All that elaborate preparation to see the old man! When I went in they were in a state of wild apprehension. So I started to look about me. I guessed that the housekeeper was on too good a thing to want it to end and therefore she had pretended Lord Eversleigh was not dead and brought in her own man to play the part."

"Very devious," said Mr. Rosen.

"All rather obvious. The housekeeper was no ordinary one. She was a special friend of Lord Eversleigh."

"I had heard of it," said Mr. Rosen.

"Then I discovered that valuable pieces were being taken from the house. I think that was the main business. They wanted the housekeeper to stay there until they had successfully disposed of certain objects, which they could only do gradually, and make a fortune for themselves."

"You say they . . ."

"Jessie, the manager of the estate who was her lover and the two men who took the part of doctor and invalid."

"Quite a little party of them."

"All necessary to the plot. I knew that Zipporah was gradually stumbling on the truth—though it took her a long time—and they knew it. She was close. I think Carew was the main mover in the affair. He was the desperate one. I daresay the housekeeper just wanted to go on living in comfort for a while. But she was his mistress and did what he said. Well, they were realizing that Zipporah was hot on their trail, but they didn't think of me. I had a reputation for being . . . not very serious and I lived up to it. It helped me. I discovered certain things from the housekeeper's daughter. She was not as discreet as they would have liked her to be. There's quite a bit of stuff from Eversleigh in Amos Carew's house. I discovered it when I called on him. I think they may have had difficulty in disposing of it. I don't know what their future plans

are . . . but they must have realized they couldn't go on like that forever. I daresay when they realized the value of some of the stuff they had stolen they wanted to carry on and get more. Zipporah was getting too close so they were taking the play into its final act. They were going to get rid of her. I realized this. My mother and hers had sent me here to look after her. I was determined to do that."

"It would seem," said Mr. Rosen, "that she owes her life to you."

Dickon smiled at me maliciously. "I rather think she does. I saved it twice. Carew was going to kill her when she called at his house. I don't know where. I suppose he was hoping to make us believe that a highwayman had shot her. He would have staged something, I don't doubt. They were very good with their plots ... as long as people didn't look too deeply into them. Well, I was there and saved her . . . just as I did in the wood. I was ready . . . waiting. I heard them talking this morning. They knew she had been into the room and that there could be no delay. They said something about a button."

"Yes," I said. "I went into the sick room last night. There was no one there. The invalid was taking a stroll in the gardens. The button came off my dressing gown."

Mr. Rosen cleared his throat. "It is an extraordinary story you have told me. What we shall have to do is to find Lord Eversleigh's body. If it was murder . . ." He lifted his shoulders.

"I don't think Jessie would have allowed that," I said. "No ... it was just deceit . . . not murder, I'm sure."

"This woman is quite unscrupulous as well as immoral," said Mr. Rosen. "You did right to come straight here. Now ... we must see what can be done."

They found Uncle Carl's body buried in the spot where Jessie had placed the cross. It was in the chest which Dickon had noticed was missing from the winter parlor. It was a simple plot they had conceived and they might have carried on with it until they had disposed of most of the valuables at Eversleigh but for the fact that Jethro had sent me that message that all was not well.

The doctors were satisfied that Uncle Carl had died from natural causes and so this was not a case of murder. It was true it might have been if Amos Carew had succeeded with

his plan to be rid of me, and it was fortunate for me that Dickon had foiled that. Amos Carew had been avid for wealth and was determined to have some of Uncle Carl's. That was why he had brought Jessie to Eversleigh to enslave poor Uncle Carl, which she had done expertly. She might be a harpy but she was no murderess and I gathered she had become increasingly frightened when she saw that she was getting drawn into an intrigue such as Amos Carew had built up when she had believed that all she had to do was cajole an old man into pampering her.

Jessie had been used to getting what she could from her admirers; it was her profession; but she had never before been engaged in criminal intrigue.

She had been frightened by the ghost and I discovered who the ghost had been. Dickon, of course, who had found some of Uncle Carl's clothes and dressed up in them. He had thought it might be useful, he said modestly; and indeed it had for it had sent Jessie to mark the grave with her crucifix.

Amos was dead. Jessie had decamped with her two actor friends—the bogus Dr. Cabel and Lord Eversleigh. We recovered many of the valuables which were in Carew's house and some which Evalina gave up, protesting that she had been under the impression that they had been given to her mother.

Rosen, Stead and Rosen took over the management of everything; Uncle Carl was given decent burial in the Eversleigh mausoleum and I became the new owner of Eversleigh.

Dickon and I returned to Clavering. Dickon was very pleased with himself. It was agreed unanimously that he was a hero. True, he had killed a man but the slaying of highwaymen was regarded as a service to humanity. Moreover, he had been very astute—more so than I had been—and his prompt action had foiled the criminals as well as saved my life.

When we arrived home my mother and Sabrina were in a state of great jubilation. They had to hear that story of our adventures over and over and over again.

"It is an extraordinary story," said my mother.

"What would have happened but for Dickon!" cried Sabrina.

"We are so proud of you, Dickon my dear," they said in unison.

Dickon basked in their admiration, watching me with that quizzical look in his eye.

"You'll have to like me now, Zipporah," he said. "You must never forget I saved your life."

"I sometimes wonder why you went to such lengths to do so."

"Shall I tell you," he said, coming near to me and whispering. "If you had died, heaven knew who would have got Evers-leigh. He wouldn't have left it to Sabrina because then it would come to me . . . son of a damned Jacobite. Your mother, no . . . because she might have left it to me, too. Who then? Some remote connection of the family perhaps. You had to have Eversleigh to keep it in this branch of the family . . . and when you have it I shall have Clavering. You see, that makes it all so neat. There was another reason."

"What was that?"

"You won't believe me but I do rather like you, Zipporah. You're not quite what you seem . . . are you? I like it . . . yes, I do."

I looked at him steadily; his lips turned up at the corners mockingly.

I knew he was telling me that he knew about my love affair with Gerard.

I ought to have been grateful to him—but I couldn't be. I disliked him as much as ever.

Mistress of Ever sleigh

It was early in the New Year when we went to Eversleigh. I knew that Jean-Louis did not really want to go. He had been brought up at Clavering and it was home to him; he loved every acre of the place, but he realized that we must go and that Eversleigh, the home of my ancestors, was a property of far greater value. Moreover, he knew that my mother and Sabrina were delighted because Clavering could now reasonably go to Dickon.

"It's the sensible thing to do," said my mother, "and I am sure that Zipporah agrees with us."

I did. One of the reasons why I was pleased to leave Clavering was because I should not have to see Dickon.

I was a considerable heiress for Eversleigh was a wealthy estate, and although Amos Carew and Jessie had stolen a few valuables there was so much left that their loss was scarcely missed. Then a great many articles were brought back from Amos Carew's house. They had been stored in his attic as he had had to go very carefully in the task of disposing of them. The prime villain in the scheme was dead; his accomplices had disappeared and eventually efforts to trace them were dropped.