complete idiot of myself.”
“You don’t owe anyone an apology,” I said.
“Oh, but I do. I was a silly hysterical child.”
“Miss Turner,” said the Great Man. “If possible, when you have a free moment, I should like to discuss with you this apparition you witnessed last night.”
She shook her head. “But that’s just it, you see. There was no apparition. There couldn’t have been. It was all just a terrible dream, and like a fool I persuaded myself that it was real.”
I said, “Sounds like you’re trying to persuade yourself today that it wasn’t.”
She frowned and her face flushed again, with anger this time. She sat back, stiffer than before. “It wasn’t,” she said curtly. “I was a fool. I apologize for disturbing you last night. Good day. Good day, Mr. Houdini.”
She tapped her heels lightly against the horse’s flanks and the animal edged forward, around us. We put our hats back on and watched the horse move from a walk to a trot to a canter.
“A temperamental woman,” said the Great Man.
“Uh-huh.”
We walked and walked. As we came into the home stretch along the walkway, I was coming to the conclusion that no one could be kept safe here at Maplewhite. Not outside it, at least. Not unless he had an army of his own. There were too many approaches to the house, too many places to hide.
Just ahead, to the right of the path, a huge tree with dark bronze-red leaves towered over it. Two white- enameled wrought-iron benches were planted in the shade of the tree and I saw that one of these was occupied. Mrs. Allardyce and Mrs. Corneille.
“ Yoo hoo! Mr. Houdini?” Mrs. Allardyce. She was wearing a brown dress and white gloves and she was holding a pale blue parasol over her head, maybe to protect it from all that shade. “Won’t you join us?”
The Great Man and I joined them. We took off our hats and said hello and sat down on the other bench. I pulled the watch from my pocket, glanced at it. Twelve-fifteen.
Still safe, I thought.
I was wrong, but I wouldn’t know that for a few more minutes.
“Are we keeping you from something, Mr. Beaumont?” said Mrs. Corneille, smiling. On her lap was a white straw hat with a broad brim. On the rest of her was a white linen dress that made her shiny black hair seem even blacker. The hem of this dress was lower than the hem of last night’s dress, but it was high enough to show off a fair amount of her legs. They were still very good legs.
The broad blue sky, the broad green lawn, Miss Turner’s eyes, Mrs. Corneille’s legs. There were a lot more distractions around here than I liked.
I slid the watch back into my pocket. “Mr. Houdini and I had a bet. How long it would take to circle the grounds on foot.”
“And who won?”
“We haven’t finished yet.”
She turned to the Great Man. “Are you feeling better today, Mr. Houdini?”
“Very much so,” he said. “Thank you.”
“I shouldn’t attempt to circle the grounds,” said Mrs. Allardyce. “Not even on a horse.” She frowned. “Did you see Jane? She’s off riding somewhere.” She glanced around vaguely.
“Yes,” said the Great Man. “We spoke with her a while ago. She seems a very accomplished rider.”
“Yes, I suppose she is. And that’s surprising, really, when you consider that basically she’s such a bookish sort of person. When she’s not writing one of those interminable letters of hers, she has her poor head buried in a book. Personally, I’ve never found Jane Austen all that fascinating.”
She heaved her heavy bosom forward and looked eagerly at the Great Man. “Mr. Beaumont did tell you about our excitement last night? Jane’s ghost? Well, today, of course, the poor girl realizes that it was all merely a nightmare, a figment of her imagination, but last night she was absolutely hysterical, wasn’t she, Mr. Beaumont? It was all I could do to calm her. She can be so emotional sometimes.”
The Great Man nodded. “Mr. Beaumont has told me of this. I-”
He was interrupted by the cheerful toot toot of a horn. We all turned toward the south.
A big motorcycle raced toward us along the walkway, gravel and earth spitting from its wheels. Lord Bob and his Brough Superior.
Lord Bob hit the brakes. The motorcycle skidded for ten or twelve yards on the gravel, wavering left and right, and finally it stopped in front of us.
Lord Bob was wearing the tweed suit he had been wearing earlier, but now he also wore a leather cap and a pair of goggles. He ripped up the goggles and let them slap back against his forehead. He grinned. Except for the white circles at his eyes, like a raccoon’s mask, his face was coated gray with dust. His mustache had been swept back along his cheeks. “Capital machine! Capital! What an adventure! Reached a hundred on the main road!” Beaming beneath his goggles, he looked around at all of us. “Anyone care to give it a go? I’d be-” Suddenly he looked off, down the walkway. “Good Lord. Is that Miss Turner?”
Once again, we all turned.
About fifty yards away, the big black horse had just burst from the forest. It reared up, forelegs clawing at the air, but somehow Miss Turner held on. Then the powerful legs came back to earth and the horse wheeled toward us and began racing along the walkway. The reins were flapping loose against its neck. Miss Turner was bent forward, her arm groping for them. Her bowler hat was gone and her long brown hair was streaming like a banner in the wind.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Allardyce. Mrs. Corneille stood up from the bench, maybe thinking she could do something. I realized that the Great Man and I were already standing.
But Miss Turner had found the reins and brought the horse under control. About twenty yards away she started slowing it, and by the time she reached us the animal was moving in a walk. The horse was panting. So was Miss Turner. Its eyes wide, the horse stopped and pawed the ground, once, twice, then raised its head and shook it and whinnied.
A few feet away, Lord Bob was standing now, too, his legs braced on either side of the big motorcycle. “Miss Turner! You gave us a terrible fright! Are you all right?”
“ Jane. What on earth did you think you were doing?” Mrs. Allardyce. She was still sitting down.
Miss Turner’s face was white and it was shining with sweat. She took a breath. She put her hand against her forehead. She licked her lips and she looked around at all of us. “I… I’m so sorry. I.. ”
Just then a number of things happened very quickly.
From somewhere in the forest behind us, to the south, came the flat hard crack of a rifle.
And something made a thunking noise somewhere as I spun to look at the Great Man. He had turned toward the sound of the shot and I knew without being able to see it that his chin was raised and he was daring the rifleman to try again.
All the others had turned, too, and frozen in position.
I shoved my hand into my pocket, going for the Colt.
And then, behind me, Miss Turner said “Oh,” very quietly, and I turned back to her and her eyelids fluttered and her blue eyes rolled upward and became white and she slumped sideways off the horse.
Chapter Ten
I ripped my hand from my pocket and I sprinted toward Miss Turner. Just as her leg slipped over the saddle, I caught her shoulders with my left arm and I scooped my right arm up beneath her knees. She sagged into the crooks of my elbows, her head lolling, her arms loosely swinging. I carried her over to the bench and laid her out on it and I squatted down beside her. I was looking for the bullet wound. I couldn’t find it.
I sensed the people crowding around me. Mrs. Corneille, Mrs. Allardyce, Lord Bob. I searched for the Great Man, found him standing just behind me. He looked puzzled, maybe even worried, but he was alive and unwounded. There hadn’t been a second shot.
Miss Turner was breathing but her face was white. I put my hand against her forehead. Cold and damp. I put
