gentleman would care for something as well.”
Marsh smiled. “What a lovely idea.” He turned to me and confided “We’re both ravenous. Not a bite since London. Though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals.” He turned to Briggs. “Two Gentlemen of Verona.”
Briggs nodded. Maybe he already knew that. “Yes, sir, he said. “I’ll tell Higgens, sir, and someone will be here shortly.”
“Lovely. Oh and-Briggs, is it?”
“Sir?”
“Briggs, would you please ask Lord and Lady Purleigh whether it might be convenient for them to join us here in, oh, say an hour?”
“Yes, sir. I shall, sir.”
“Thank you so much.”
Briggs turned and left. He closed the door behind him.
I hooked my tie over my head, slipped it beneath my collar. “You want me to take off when Lord and Lady Purleigh get here?”
For the first time Inspector Marsh seemed genuinely puzzled.
“Take what off?”
I smiled. “You want me to leave? Go away?”
“No, no. Of course not, my dear chap. We’re colleagues, aren't we. Allies to the end. And here being thus together, we are an endless mine to one another. The Two Noble Kinsmen.”
“Right.” I finished tying my tie.
He pursed his lips. “Of course, scholars disagree as to precisely how much of that particular work was actually written by the Bard.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now,” he said. “We were about to review the events of Saturday.”
“Yeah.” I told him about breakfast with Lord Bob and about strolling with the Great Man along the gravel walkway. About the meeting with Miss Turner and her horse. I told him about sitting under the bronze-red tree with Mrs. Allardyce and Mrs. Corneille, and about Lord Bob arriving on his motorcycle. Told him that Miss Turner and the horse had suddenly come bolting from the forest, and that she had reined it in before she reached us.
Marsh had been staring at the ceiling but now his glance swung down to me once more. “What caused her to bolt from the forest? Do you know?”
“A snake, she said. It frightened her horse.”
“I see. And then what?”
Someone knocked at the door. “Come in,” called out Marsh.
It was a servant, pushing a wheeled cart. He arranged a low table in front of my chair, then slid a plate, covered with a silver lid, from one of the shelves of the cart and he placed it on the table. He arranged silverware and a linen napkin and a cup and saucer and a small pot each of tea and coffee. Then he did the same thing for Marsh and Sergeant Meadows, on the coffee table. Then he pushed the cart off into a corner, turned, and asked us, “Will there be anything else, gentlemen?”
Marsh smiled up at him. “No. Thank you very much.”
The servant said, “Very good, sir,” nodded, and marched from the room.
“They set a lovely table, Lord and Lady Purleigh.” Marsh nodded to my food. “Please. Eat. Enjoy your meal. Unquiet meals make ill digestion. ”
I lifted the lid from my plate. Fried eggs, bacon, sausage, fried tomatoes, buttered toast, a dead fish. I picked up the fork.
With his knife and fork, as precisely as a surgeon, Marsh cut a geometrically perfect square of egg white. He dipped the tip of his knife lightly into the bright yellow yolk, carefully spread yolk along the surface of the white, and then placed the result neatly in his mouth. He kept the fork in his left hand, the way English people do. He chewed with small even bites. Thoughtfully. Delicately. He swallowed and looked up at me, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin.
“Miss Turner had just arrived,” he said. “What happened at that point?”
I swallowed some sausage. “Someone fired a rifle.”
Marsh raised his eyebrows. “Fired a rifle. From where?” He cut off another perfect square of egg white.
Sergeant Meadows had set aside his notebook and he was eating as though he hadn’t eaten since the War. He was bent over his eggs and his heavy elbows were flapping like wings.
“From the forest,” I said. “About a hundred and fifty yards off. At the time, I thought he was aiming at Harry.” I cut off a piece of bacon, ate it.
Marsh carefully spread some yolk along the square. “You believed it was-what was the name? The magician?”
I swallowed. “Chin Soo.”
“You believed it was Chin Soo who fired the rifle.” He put the morsel of egg into his mouth.
“At the time, yeah.”
He chewed. Neatly. Regularly. He swallowed. He dabbed at his mouth. “You’re implying, of course, that you’ve since changed your mind.”
“Yeah.”
“Refresh my memory, would you? Which of the guests, exactly, were out gamboling on the lawn?”
Someone knocked at the door again.
“Rather like Victoria Station, isn’t it?” Marsh smiled. He called out, ' Come in.”
The door burst open, banged against its stop, bounced back.
The Great Man caught it with his left hand as he stepped into the room, and he held it. “Phil,” he said. “We must leave.”
Chapter Thirty
I swallowed some egg. “Why’s that, Harry?”
His brow was furrowed. “Bess.” He let the door swing shut and he walked into the room. “I spoke with her on the telephone just now. She rang from Paris. She intends to leave tonight. She will be in London tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning, Phil. I must be there when she arrives.”
I looked at Inspector Marsh. He was smiling pleasantly up at the Great Man. “Forgive me,” he said. “Mr. Houdini?”
The Great Man turned to him, frowning impatiently.
Marsh said, “Who might Bess be, exactly?”
I kept eating. I had a feeling that breakfast would be over pretty soon.
“My dear wife,” said the Great Man. “She has been deathly ill in Paris. Her stomach. That awful food, all those sickening French sauces. She is better now, thank goodness, well enough to travel now. It has been a huge pleasure to meet you, Inspector, and I am sorry we shall have no opportunity to talk. But Mr. Beaumont and I must leave Maplewhite.”
I finished off my egg.
“Yes,” said Marsh. “So you said. You do understand, don’t you, Mr. Houdini, that this is a police investigation?”
Sergeant Meadows was pouring himself a cup of coffee. It looked like a good idea, so I did the same thing.
The Great Man was frowning. Impatiently. “Of course I understand. But I am merely a guest here. The investigation has nothing to do with me. Phil, will it take you long to pack?”
I sipped at my coffee. “Well, Harry,” I said.
“I imagine,” said Marsh, “that it shouldn’t be difficult for you to arrange for someone in London to meet your wife. I-”
