The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) (11 page)

BOOK: The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8)
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Just then, to her right, she heard the unmistakable sound of a stair creaking. It was not very loud, but it sounded almost deafening in the darkness. Angela felt her heart jump into her throat. She paused to catch her breath—and, it must be admitted, to summon up her courage and resist the urge to run back into her room—then took her revolver out of her pocket and crept along to the stairs as quietly as she could. The moon was shining in through a large, arched window opposite the head of the staircase, and rather than step into the full view of anyone who happened to cast a glance backwards, Angela stopped to one side and poked her head around carefully. There was nothing—only empty gloom. After a short flight, the stairs paused at a little landing and then turned to the right and continued out of view, and as Angela listened she was certain she could hear the sound of someone creeping quietly downstairs further ahead.

Feeling the comforting shape of the gun under her hand, Angela took a deep breath, entered the dark mouth of the staircase and began to descend, keeping to the edges in an attempt to avoid the creaky step. At the little landing she paused and peered around the corner. The next flight was longer and led down into absolute blackness. Angela quailed for a second—but only a second. She drew herself up.

‘Now, we’ll have none of this,’ she told herself firmly. ‘What sort of a detective are you if you can’t even walk down a flight of stairs without going into a blue funk? Why, you might as well go and confess to Mr. Hesketh this minute that you’re a useless coward.’

Having fortified herself in this manner, she listened for a moment and then set forth down the next flight. She reached the bottom without incident and paused, straining to see. Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the increased darkness, and she could make out the outline of the door to the staff common-room, which was opposite. She tried the handle carefully but it was locked. Whoever it was must then have gone through the door at the end of the corridor and into the rear atrium. Angela followed, and swiftly discovered that her mysterious quarry had left the door slightly ajar. Warily she opened it and was immediately almost blinded by the moonlight which flooded into the atrium through the large windows. In an instant she saw that the back door was open, and ran towards it. Outside all was quiet, and she stood, gazing out across the lawns, which glowed pale under the moon, but could see nobody. Whoever it was might have gone in any direction—might even be hiding behind a bush or a tree. It was useless to try and search the grounds by herself. She would go and fetch Mr. Hesketh immediately. Perhaps he would know what to do.

She ran back upstairs, past her room and along to the end of the passage, less careful of the noise she was making this time, then knocked on Mr. Hesketh’s door. He answered immediately and she was not at all surprised to see that he was fully dressed and wide awake. Quickly, she explained in a whisper what had happened, and his face set into a grim expression.

‘You’d better show me,’ he said, and shut the door behind him. They had not gone far when he said, ‘Wait. I’ll go and get my torch,’ and turned back.

It was at this point that disaster struck. Miss Devlin, who had been woken up by the sound of Angela hurrying along the passage to fetch Mr. Hesketh, came out of her room to see what was going on just as Mr. Hesketh was passing, and the two of them bumped into one another. Since nobody had informed Miss Devlin that the Latin master was staying there at present, she immediately took it that the strange man with whom she had collided in the dark was a burglar. She shrieked, and for a few seconds the two of them grappled together in the gloom, until Mr. Hesketh managed to free himself and stepped back.

‘Oh, no you don’t!’ cried Miss Devlin. ‘Help! Police!’

She accompanied her yell with a neat yet powerful right hook, which connected with Mr. Hesketh’s jaw and laid him out flat. As he lay there groaning, Miss Devlin stepped over him and turned on a nearby wall-lamp.

‘Why, it’s Mr. Hesketh!’ she said in astonishment as she looked down at the young man’s prostrate figure.

She glanced up and saw Angela standing open-mouthed nearby, and her eyes widened. Despite herself, Angela almost laughed as she quite clearly saw an awful suspicion enter the Games mistress’s head, but other concerns swiftly intruded and she ran forward and bent over the unfortunate young man, who was rubbing his jaw groggily and attempting to sit up.

‘Are you all right?’ said Angela. ‘Help me get him up, Miss Devlin.’

‘I’m all right, I think,’ said Hesketh. He refused her hand and got to his feet slowly.

‘But what—’ Miss Devlin began, looking from Angela to Mr. Hesketh and back again. ‘Why is Mr. Hesketh here? I thought you were a burglar.’

‘No, I’m not a burglar,’ said Hesketh grimly, moving his head from side to side to make sure it was still attached to his neck. He winced.

It was finally beginning to dawn on Miss Devlin that laying out the Latin master with a single punch was perhaps not the best way to foster good relations with a fellow teacher, and she went pink in the face at the enormity of what she had done.

‘Oh, dear me!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, Mr. Hesketh, I’m most dreadfully sorry. How will you ever forgive me? Let me run downstairs and get you some ice.’

‘No, no,’ said Hesketh.

‘Oh, but I insist,’ said Miss Devlin. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

All three of them were by now very embarrassed, but how the situation might eventually have resolved itself will never be known, for at that moment there was an interruption in the form of Miss Bell, who emerged from her room in a hurry, glanced around at them all and said urgently:

‘Where is the Princess?’

ELEVEN

Despite the pain in his jaw, Hesketh was instantly alert.

‘What do you mean? Isn’t she in there with you?’ he said.

‘No,’ said Miss Bell. ‘I woke up and heard a noise out here, and thought she must have left the room for some reason. Where is she?’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Mr. Hesketh, and went into Miss Bell’s room, followed by the others.

The bedside lamp was switched on, and it was immediately evident that there was no-one in the room. Hesketh looked at the little bed which was Irina’s, then bent over and peered under it, but without much hope.

‘But how did she get out?’ he said. ‘You locked the door, I assume, Miss Bell?’

‘Of course I did,’ she said. ‘And I put my keys in my bedside drawer here, as I always do.’

She pulled open the drawer as she spoke. Her mouth opened then closed again.

‘Gone,’ said Mr. Hesketh, and it was not a question.

Miss Bell nodded wordlessly.

‘But why?’ said Angela. ‘Why did she leave the room of her own accord if she knew she was in danger?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Mr. Hesketh, ‘but we had better hurry if we want to catch her.’

He turned to leave the room, and Angela followed him.

‘Wait!’ said Miss Bell, and went after them in her dressing-gown. Miss Devlin, not understanding at all what was going on, followed.

They all hurried down the stairs and along the corridor to the rear atrium, Miss Bell switching on lights as they went. When they arrived at the back door, they saw what Angela had already seen some time earlier.

‘My keys!’ exclaimed Miss Bell, as she spied the articles in question dangling from the lock of the door. She took them and put them in her pocket.

‘Then there’s no doubt,’ said Angela. ‘Irina took the keys and went out of her own volition.’

The four of them went outside. There was a sharp chill in the air but Miss Bell, awake and capable in her night-things, made no mention of it.

‘Which way did she go, do you suppose?’ she said.

‘I don’t know,’ said Hesketh. ‘Of course, it depends on why she came out. If she came out to meet someone, then the summer-house or one of the outbuildings might be the most likely place. If, on the other hand, she was intending to run away from the school, then she might have gone along the path to the village, or even out through the front gates.’

‘She might just be out for mischief,’ said Miss Devlin, who knew nothing of the assassination plot. ‘Don’t you remember, Miss Bell, when the Third took it into their heads to go and play tennis at midnight?’

‘Oh, goodness me,’ said Angela, in sudden terror that this was all a scheme of Barbara’s.

‘At any other time I might believe it,’ said Miss Bell. ‘But not now. She knows perfectly well her life is in danger, and she assured me that she would take special care not to get out of the sight of the people who were placed to protect her.’

‘We had better go and look for her,’ said Angela, exchanging glances with Mr. Hesketh, for it was now more than twenty minutes since she had followed her mysterious quarry to the back door, and whether it were Irina or someone else, the person must surely be some way away by now.

‘Yes,’ said Hesketh. ‘Suppose we split up. Mrs. Marchmont, you and Miss Devlin go across and look in the outbuildings and the summer-house; Miss Bell, you and I shall go around to the front gates. I rather fear she has been lured out under some pretext, and may have been spirited away in a motor-car.’

‘Very well,’ said Miss Bell. ‘Miss Devlin, I believe there are some torches in the Games cupboard. Would you be so good as to fetch them?’

‘Certainly,’ said Miss Devlin, keen to make amends for what she was rapidly realizing had been an egregious error on her part earlier. She hurried off, and the others began to discuss how best to conduct the search.

‘But what about Mr. Everich?’ said Miss Bell suddenly. ‘I had completely forgotten about him. He must be informed immediately.’

‘Is he staying here in the school?’ said Angela.

‘No,’ said Miss Bell. ‘He said very generously that since the Princess was evidently under the excellent care of the school and the British Government, there was no need for him to remain on the premises at night, and so he has gone to stay in the village.’

‘Well, the British Government can only protect someone who wants to be protected,’ said Hesketh, a little tetchily. ‘If the silly girl
will
go wandering about at night when she has been specifically instructed to stay indoors, then there’s not a lot I can do.’

‘If Everich is in the village then we shall be wasting valuable time in fetching him,’ said Angela.

‘Yes,’ said Hesketh. ‘The important thing at this moment is to find the Princess, and quickly.’

A thought struck Angela.

‘You don’t suppose she has gone to meet Everich and he has taken her away to safety, do you?’ she said.

‘No,’ said Hesketh. ‘If that were the plan then I am certain Everich would have told me about it. He said only that he was awaiting orders from the Grand Duke’s cousin, Count Paul, as to whether Irina ought to be brought back to Morania, and in the meantime he had been charged with the task of helping British Intelligence keep an eye on her.’

Just then, Miss Devlin, still in her dressing-gown and slippers, returned with the torches and the search began. Angela could not blame Mr. Hesketh for not wanting to be paired with the Games mistress, but was rather comforted herself by having Miss Devlin for a partner, having seen the damage that lady could do to a grown man while still half-asleep. They hurried down to the summer-house as instructed and looked in, but saw nobody inside. Angela was beginning to think that they might be too late, for Irina had had ample time to get away if she wished. What on earth had possessed the girl? She knew perfectly well she was in danger. Had she decided to try and return home to Morania by herself? That would be absurd, when she might do it in the company of a member of Moranian Intelligence who had been sent specifically to protect her. Why, then?

‘Not here,’ said Miss Devlin. ‘Let’s go and look in the huts over there.’

Without much hope, Angela followed her. They poked about dutifully in each of the outbuildings, but saw nothing.

‘It’s useless,’ said Miss Devlin. ‘Why, the child might be anywhere. The school grounds are surrounded by trees and bushes, and it would be as easy as anything for her to hide for as long as she liked.’

‘But why?’ said Angela.

‘Don’t ask me,’ said Miss Devlin. ‘Everyone seems to know much more about the thing than I do. I only wish somebody would tell me what it was all about.’

Angela was just wondering whether she ought to enlighten Miss Devlin on the subject, when the Games mistress stiffened and said:

‘Look! Over there!’

Angela turned and thought she saw something dart towards the path along which she had followed Miss Fazackerley the other day.

‘Is it Irina?’ she said.

‘I don’t know, but whoever it is they’re heading for the village,’ said Miss Devlin.

Of one accord, the two women hastened towards the entrance to the path and stopped to listen. Angela thought she could hear something moving in the distance.

‘Are you quite certain it was human?’ she said.

‘I think so,’ said Miss Devlin. ‘It was someone creeping quite low to the ground, but I’m pretty sure it was a person rather than an animal.’

She did not stop to wait for a reply, but switched on the torch and ploughed ahead onto the path, Angela following behind. Here under the trees, the moonlight was unable to penetrate and so the torch was a necessary object. They walked briskly along the path, their footsteps making the only sound.

‘We ought to go faster,’ said Angela, remembering that they were most likely following a young girl who knew she was being pursued. She speeded up her pace, and Miss Devlin followed suit.

They finally emerged on to the road which led to the village and looked in both directions, and there, about a hundred yards away, running towards the village, they saw what looked like the figure of a girl. Even as they watched, a shadow seemed to detach itself from the hedgerow to her left. What happened next was not clear in the dim light, but it seemed to Angela that the shadow stepped out and pulled the girl to the side of the road and out of sight.

‘Quick!’ exclaimed Angela.

Miss Devlin had seen it too, and the two of them ran as fast as they could towards the spot where the girl had disappeared.

BOOK: The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8)
2.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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