performer.
He was still standing, very formal, his hands held tautly at his sides. “Wanted to tell all of you,” he said. “Been a bit of an accident. My father, the Earl. Wounded himself. Gun went off. Potting at pigeons. Nothing serious, mind. Scratch, really. Barely broke the skin. Alice and Cecily, they’re attending to it. Won’t be long. Forgive them their absence, eh? Stay here, if you like. Return to your rooms, wander about. As you like. Dinner will be served at the usual time.”
There was a kind of soft, general letting out of breath, as though the room itself were sighing with relief.
Lord Purleigh nodded once, briskly, and then turned away, about to leave. He caught himself and turned back. ‘There is, sorry to say, one further unpleasantness.’ He paused, and a shadow passed across his face. ‘That rifle shot of yesterday.’ He looked toward me, with what I flatter myself was kindness. ‘I had believed it fired by a poacher.’ He addressed the crowd. ‘Turns out I was mistaken. One of my guests, Mr Houdini, is being stalked by a madman. From all accounts, he was the fellow fired the shot. But there’s no cause for alarm. Some police will be arriving from Amberly shortly.’
‘But Robert,’ said the Allardyce, ‘who is this man?’
A tartness came over Lord Purleigh’s face. ‘A stage magician. Rival of Houdini’s. Fellow named Chin Soo.’
‘A Chinaman! ’ exclaimed the Allardyce.
Tart became bitter. ‘No, not a Chinaman,’ he said. ‘Chin Soo’s a stage name. We don’t really know much more about him.’ His face softened. ‘Not to worry, though. Everything’s under control. Police’ll be here soon. And, as it happens, Mr Houdini’s secretary is actually a Pinkerton.’ He said this rapidly, as though it were an embarrassment he wished to move quickly beyond.
This was not to be, of course, so long as the Allardyce was present. ‘A what?’ she said.
‘A private detective,’ he said, impatience flaring out briefly.
‘An enquiry agent, from America. Assigned to protect Mr Houdini.’
I wondered if Cecily knew. Would Mr Beaumont have told her?
‘Now,’ Lord Purleigh said, ‘if you’ll excuse me.’ He turned and strode away.
As soon as he was gone, the Allardyce looked around herself like an anxious walrus on an ice floe. ‘Chin Soo?’ she said.
‘ Gesundheit,’ said Sir David.
As I said before, he can be clever; he’s simply not so clever as he thinks he is. No human being possibly could be.
‘Oh David,’ said Mrs Corneille wearily. ‘This is not the time.’
‘On the contrary,’ he said, smiling that infuriating ironic smile of his. ‘Nothing eases tension like a bit of drollery, don’t you think?’ He turned to Dr Auerbach. ‘This would be the ideal moment for one of your English jokes, Doctor.’
I have no idea what he meant by this. Dr Auerbach had told me no jokes, certainly, English or otherwise, while he was conducting his examination. Whatever Sir David might have meant, Dr Auerbach smiled and shook his head slightly. ‘I am thinking not, Sir David.’
Sir David returned to Mrs Corneille. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I must say that I’m not surprised to learn about Beaumont. He always struck me as rather shifty and seedy, exactly the sort to be prying into people’s private affairs.’
Mrs Corneille looked at him. ‘Why should that trouble you, David?’ she said. ‘Your own affairs are seldom private.’
‘Ah, Vanessa,’ he said. ‘I race neck and neck with my reputation. But inevitably it precedes me.’ An intolerable man.
‘But Sir David,’ said the Allardyce, ‘do you really think it wise for us to remain here? I mean to say, if there’s a madman running loose in the neighbourhood…’
‘There frequently is,’ he said. ‘This is England, after all.’
‘Yes, but are we safe here, do you think?’
‘Safe?’ He pretended to consider this, and finally he said, with great seriousness, ‘No, on balance I shouldn’t think so.’
‘Sir David is playing with you, Mrs Allardyce,’ said Mrs Corneille. ‘Of course we’re safe here. Lord Purleigh shouldn’t have said so if it weren’t true.’
‘No,’ said the Allardyce, blinking. She pressed her hand against her bosom, or against that portion of it that could be covered by a single hand. ‘Certainly he wouldn’t. Certainly.’ She blinked again, patted herself again, looked vaguely around the room. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, again to no one in particular, ‘I suppose I must go find poor Alice. She’ll be needing the comfort of her family now.’
And with that she got up and waddled vaguely away. I left shortly afterward, and came up here, to my room.
I’m exhausted, Evy, and sore all over. My bruises are throbbing. I’ll drop this in the post box and then try to get some rest. I’ll write again later, after dinner. And after the seance!
All my love,
Jane
Chapter Twenty-three
The closet door swung open. Mrs. Corneille stepped out in her white dress, her sleek black hair swaying along her shoulders. She saw the gun in my hand and she smiled. “You’re not going to shoot me, I hope.”
I put the gun away. “You saw me drop that piece of paper,” I said. “Out on the patio.”
“Yes,” she said. “And I read it.” Her smile faded and she lifted her elegant chin. “Alice is a good friend of mine. I shouldn’t want you or anyone else to harm her. It seemed to me that if you were having secret meetings with one of her servants, someone ought to be there to represent her interests.”
“You think her interests are in jeopardy?”
“Not at all. But she might need looking after.”
“You feel better now?”
“Not remarkably so.” Suddenly she frowned. “Oh dear, what time is it?”
I pulled out my watch. “Twenty minutes to eight.”
“I’d forgotten-dinner. I must run and change.” She crossed the carpet, put her hand along my arm, looked up at me with those big black eyes. “Come to my room tonight,” she said urgently. “After the seance. We’ll discuss this.”
“Sure,” I said.
The Great Man's was still shut when I got back to the suite. As I crossed the room, I stripped off my jacket and flung it to the bed. I knocked on his door and tugged loose the knot of my tie. “Harry.”
I pulled the tie from my neck, balled it up, threw it to the bed.
I started unbuttoning my shirt. I rapped my knuckles at the door again. “Harry?”
His voice came through the door. “Phil? Are you alone out there?”
“I brought along a tuba player. Does that count?” I tore off the shirt, balled it, fired it at the bed.
“Are you alone, Phil?”
“Yeah, Harry, I’m alone.”
The door opened a notch and the Great Man stuck his head out. He glanced at me, glanced around the room like a pickpocket at a policemen’s ball. He looked back at me. “She is gone,” he said.
“Who’s gone?”
He jerked open the door and darted into my room, his gray eyes wide. He was wearing his dinner jacket and a crisp black bow tie. He had brushed his hair back, and pomaded it, but it still cropped out from his temples like clumps of steel wool. Quickly, he glanced around again. “Where have you been, Phil?”
