Retreat.” He swept his arm toward the door, but swung too far and aimed his wavering finger at a tapestry on the wall. “Fall back, lads!”
“I apologize,” said Lady Purleigh, looking around the table. “My husband is unwell.”
“Far from it!” said Lord Bob, spinning to face her, overspinning, then correcting his spin. He straightened up. “I am pissed,” he announced. “Your husband, my love, is as pissed as a bloody lord.” Suddenly he grinned proudly and adjusted the lapels of his suitcoat. “I really am a bloody lord, you know. I really am, now the old swine’s gone belly up.”
“Lady Purleigh,” said Doyle softly.
Lady Purleigh shook her head wearily. “It’s quite all right, Sir Arthur.” She looked around the table. “As you’ve all just learned, my father-in-law has died today. My husband and I were hoping to spare you any distress.”
“Bloody right,” said Lord Bob, and waved his arm. “Didn’t come here for a bloody funeral, did you? Eh?”
“I apologize to you all,” said Lady Purleigh. “But, if you don’t mind, I’m afraid that we should, all of us, retire just now. We shall see you at breakfast.”
“Call it a night,” said Lord Bob, nodding.
Lady Purleigh turned to Madame Sosostris. “I apologize in particular, to you, madame.”
“Not at all, my lady,” she said. She wrapped her plump jeweled fingers around the wheels of her chair and rolled herself back a few feet. “Pliss,” she said to Mr. Dempsey. “We are to going now.”
“Splendid to see you,” Lord Bob told her merrily. “Must do this again sometime, eh?”
Doyle said, “Lady Purleigh?”
She turned to him. “Sir Arthur?”
“Perhaps we should cancel the boxing match?”
“Eh?” said Lord Bob.
“I shall explain, Robert.” Lady Purleigh turned to Doyle. “I see no reason to cancel it, Sir Arthur. If you have a moment, we can discuss the arrangements.” She looked around the table. Good night to you all. We shall see you at breakfast.”
“Boxing match?” said Lord Bob.
Beside me, Mrs. Corneille stood. She leaned toward me and whispered. “Twelve-thirty.”
People were moving. From across the table, Sir David called out, “Beaumont.”
I turned.
He smiled. “In the morning, then.”
“See you,” I said.
The Morning Post
Maplewhite, Devon
August 19 (early morning)
Dear Evangeline,
A few more boulders have landed.
First off, the Earl of Axminster, who was merely wounded at tea time, was dead at dinner.
I shouldn’t make light of it, I know; Lord and Lady Purleigh were apparently keeping the death secret as a kindness to their guests. I do feel badly for both of them. They’re such wonderful people, admirable in every way. Why is that tragedy always slashes out at those who will most intensely feel it, and ignores those who would be insensible to its presence if it toppled onto them from the roof of a barn? Or is this, as Mrs Applewhite would have said, one of those foolish questions which contain their own answers?
From what the Allardyce was able to pry out of Lady Purleigh, after the seance, the Earl committed suicide, but Lady Purleigh cannot imagine why. Perhaps the schedule of events here at Maplewhite was simply too much for him.
Dinner was dreadful. Neither the Allardyce nor I knew, at the time, of the Earl’s death; but I suspect that all the others did. No one said much of anything, except for the Allardyce, who flirted shamelessly with Mr Houdini, and for Mr Houdini, who regaled us with several seemingly endless stories the hero of which was invariably himself.
Things rather livened up afterward, however, in the drawing room. Sir David stuck Mr Houdini in the stomach, and then very badly wanted to strike Mr Beaumont, almost anywhere on his person, I expect; but Sir Arthur intervened. Sir David and Mr Beaumont will battle it out tomorrow morning. Fisticuffs at dawn. Sir Arthur will act as referee.
As to the seance, it was moderately interesting as well, until Lord Purleigh appeared and made a terrible scene. The poor man was clearly deranged with shock, and not a little inebriated.
It was at the seance that I learned of the Earl’s death. Roly-poly Madame Sosostris, masquerading as her Red Indian Spirit Guide, revealed the truth. No doubt she bribed it loose from one of the servants.
You’ll notice that I’ve become rather blase about all this. I am becoming a woman of the world, Evy. Death, deceit, ghosts, goblins, boulders, maskings and unmaskings: they bounce off my back like water off a burnished duck.
Madame Sosostris did say something curious this evening, during the seance, and it has given me an idea. I am going to investigate.
The time is nearly one o’clock; the house is hushed, no one is moving.
It’s unmannerly of me, I know, to go prowling about Maplewhite in the dark, on my own. But already, and especially after today’s spectacular display of horsemanship, my reputation is so crippled that no additional eccentricity could possibly maim it further. Moreover, I’ll be bringing along this letter, enveloped and addressed and stamped. Should someone be lurking in the hallways, I shall simply explain that I was swept from bed by an urgent need to plump this into the post box.
It isn’t much of a plan, I realize; but then I’m not much of a planner. I am exceedingly weary of being acted upon. And tonight I will act.
So, Evy: the game is afoot!
All my love,
Jane
Chapter Twenty-five
Fraud always brought out the best in the Great Man. Back in my room, he was in dandy form. For nearly an hour he sat on my bed and laughed and snickered. Now and then he waved his arms. He explained all the tricks that Madame Sosostris had performed during the seance, and then he explained them all again.
“She is an absolute amateur, Phil,” he said. He was still wearing his dinner jacket but he had taken off his shoes. His legs were crossed like a yogi’s and he was tilted cheerfully toward me. “A twelve-year-old child could produce more spectacular effects.”
“Right,” I said from my chair by the desk. I hauled out my watch. Quarter to twelve. “Harry,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted.”
“That bell!” he said, and laughed. “And those chains!” He waved his arms. “Clanging chains! Phil, over thirty years ago, when I gave my own performance as a medium, I refused to use the clanging chains. Imagine, Phil. They were passe even then.
“Right, Harry. But-”
“And did you like her Spirit Guide?” He lowered his head and lowered his voice-“Running Bear, him come to aid of those who seek. Ugh. Ha!” He curled up his body and slapped at his thigh.
I smiled. “Harry, listen…”
“I cannot wait,” he said, “to tell Sir Arthur what I think.”
“Maybe Sir Arthur won’t be as thrilled as you are.”
He looked at me and he frowned. “No. Perhaps not.” He raised his head. “But the truth must prevail, Phil.”
“Uh-huh. Meantime, Harry, I need some rest. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“What?” He sat up. “Oh yes, yes, of course! Your famous boxing match with Sir David! Phil, I must tell you,
