police.”
“Bob,” said Lord Bob. “But look here, Doyle. Local police simply haven’t enough men to do us any good. Told Beaumont the same thing. And what men they do have are dolts. Won’t have those louts tramping across the lawn, tracking muck about, pestering the guests. My guests, Doyle. My responsibility. Being spied on by the police, not what they came here for, is it? Wanted a bit of company, relaxation, spot or two of fun with that medium of yours.”
Doyle took the pipe from his mouth, rested his hand on his thigh. He frowned thoughtfully and he said, “Lord Purleigh, I know your feelings regarding Spiritualism. However much I may disagree with them, I do, of course, respect your right to express them. But I really must point out that Madame Sosostris is a gifted and remarkable woman, possibly the most remarkable woman I have ever met. She has come here at your invitation, and at no small sacrifice to herself. She believes, as I do, that Spiritualism-”
“Quite right, Doyle,” said Lord Bob, holding up his hand again. “Rotten bad form. Put my foot in it, I admit. All apologies. But the police? Here at Maplewhite? Prowling around all weekend? You see my point, of course. Simply wouldn’t do, would it?”
It seemed to me that the Great Man had been silent for a long time. Probably it seemed the same way to him, because now he leaned slightly forward and he said, “Sir Arthur, I am inclined to agree with Lord Purleigh. As I explained to him before, I know that I, personally, would prefer that the police not become involved in this. And I suspect that Lord Purleigh’s other guests will feel much the same way.”
“Harry,” I said. Three faces turned toward me, and two of them were unhappy. “You’re not thinking this out. These other people don’t have any reason to avoid the cops. Once they find out about
Chin Soo, they’re going to want to leave, or they’re going to want protection.”
I turned to Lord Bob. “And if they want it, real protection, are you going to tell them they can’t have it? A regiment of farmers and kitchen staff doesn’t really make the grade.”
Lord Bob glanced at Doyle. Doyle said, “I’m afraid I must agree.”
Pursing his lips, Lord Bob stared down at the pattern in the carpet.
The Great Man was staring, too, but at me. In pretty much the same way that Jesus had stared at Judas.
Doyle puffed at his pipe. “Lord Purleigh?” he said.
“Bob,” he said without looking up. He took in a deep breath and he slowly sighed it out. He looked up, at Doyle. “Very well. We’ll discuss it with them at tea time. Four o’clock. Suit you?”
“Entirely,” said Doyle. “I do believe that this is the right decision.”
“Expect we’ll find out,” said Lord Bob. He stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some things to attend to.”
Everyone stood. Lord Bob crossed the carpet, held out his hand to Doyle. “Good to see you again, Doyle. Glad you could come. Apologize for all this excitement, eh?”
Doyle pumped his arm. His vigor had returned and once again he seemed larger even than he was. “Not at all,” he said. “It’s a delight to be here, in any circumstances.”
Lord Bob turned to the Great Man and smiled. “Houdini,” he nodded. He turned to me and frowned. “Beaumont.” He didn’t nod. To the others he said, “See you at four. The drawing room.” And then he left.
It was a bit abrupt, I thought. But maybe that was the way the aristocracy did things. Even when they were Bolshevists.
I was about to sit down again when the Great Man aimed his charming smile in my direction. Either he had recovered from his betrayal or he had decided he wanted something. “Phil. Would you excuse us, please? I should like to speak with Sir Arthur for a short while.”
Fair enough. The two of them were old friends, they had lives and wives to catch up on. “Sure, Harry,” I said. “Just do me a favor and don’t go wandering around outside.”
He nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes. I understand. But please, Phil, do not mention any of this to anyone until tea time.”
“Okay, Harry. Tea time. Nice to meet you, Sir Arthur.”
I held out my hand to Doyle, so he could pump my arm some more. He did.
“I very much look forward,” he said, “to talking with you at length.”
I ambled through the big house and out of it. The place seemed empty, no other guests around, no servants. I followed a flagstone path that stopped at the gravel walkway and started again on the other side of it. It meandered toward the formal garden, and so did I. In the garden a few wrought-iron benches were scattered among the neat rows of flowers, benches painted with white enamel like the two under the bronze-red tree. I sat down on one.
The air was still warm, the sun was still shining, the sky was still blue.
The Great Man was still alive, and so were all the other guests. Fairly soon, the other guests would find out what the situation was and they would all have a chance to decide whether they wanted the police here. I was getting my own way, which didn’t happen very often around the Great Man. Except to him.
I should have been happy.
But I was bothered.
It was too big a job for one man. If the cops didn’t show up soon, somehow I had to convince the Great Man to bring in some more people.
I looked off at the forest, dark green and dense and draped with shadow. Chin Soo could have been anywhere in there. Maybe he was watching me right now.
I heard the crunch of gravel to my right and I wheeled around on the bench.
“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Corneille. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She held out her slender hand and she gently waved me down.
“No, no, please don’t get up. Do you mind if I join you?”
“No,” I said, “of course not.” It was the truth. She was as much of a distraction as she had been before, but I was in the mood for a distraction now.
Hanging from her trim shoulder was a white leather purse. Beneath her white straw hat, the wings of thick black hair were sleek and glossy. Her white linen dress was as bright as a spill of snow. She sat down and crossed her long legs and the sunlight shimmered on her pale silk stockings. From the purse on her lap she removed a silver cigarette case and a silver lighter. She opened the case and held it out to me. I could smell her perfume again, and again it put me in mind of Gardens and temptations.
“No thanks,” I said. “I don’t smoke.”
She lightly arched one eyebrow and it disappeared behind her shiny black bangs. “You have no bad habits, Mr. Beaumont?” she asked me.
“Not that one,” I said, and reached for the lighter. She handed it to me and I clicked it alight and held it out. She leaned forward and touched the tip of the brown cigarette to the flame. Below the broad brim of the hat, below the sleek bangs, her large eyes gazed calmly into mine. The eyes were so dark that the pupils melted into the irises. She took a deep drag and plucked away the cigarette and sat back to exhale a slow billow of blue smoke. I handed over the lighter and she put it into the purse, along with the cigarette case.
“Thank you,” she said.
I asked her, “How is Miss Turner?”
“Much better.”
“What happened?” I asked. “How did she lose control of the horse?”
“The horse saw a snake,” she said, exhaling smoke, “and it bolted.”
“But why did she faint?”
“I’m not sure. She has had a rather trying time of it lately. But it’s fortunate for her that you were there. When she fell.” Even in the glare of sun, there were very few lines in the pale soft skin beneath those almond- shaped eyes. Thirty-six years old? Thirty-four? “If you hadn’t managed to catch her, she might have been seriously injured.” She inhaled on the cigarette. “You’re extremely resourceful, for a personal secretary.”
I was a personal secretary until tea time. “You should see my shorthand,” I said.
She smiled, but her eyes narrowed a bit. “What were you reaching for?”
“Reaching for? When?”
