Stars For The Toff

It was this gift which brought us together. Mrs Abbott is still a sceptic where foreknowledge of the future is concerned. But—” Madam Melinska’s mildly amused smile appeared again— “aren’t most people? Aren’t you?”

Rollison felt as if he were at the wrong end of a rapier which pinned him against the wall.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Most Virgoans are,” declared Madam Melinska.

“Most Virgo—oh.” Rollison had been born late in August and knew his sign of the Zodiac, but this had always been a matter for fun rather than serious consideration. He had a momentary flash of thought: How had she known his birth date? Then he told himself that she had only to glance at a Who’s Who to discover it.

“As a matter of personal interest,” put in Lucifer quietly, “what is my sign?”

Madam Melinska looked at him very directly. “You are a Gemini, probably born on the cusp. You have the fixity of purpose of all Taureans and the love of movement of Gemini people. I imagine you were born later than your mother had expected.”

Rollison, startled by the preciseness of the answer, was astonished by the effect on Lucifer Stride, who now stared open-mouthed at Madam Melinska.

“Is that true?” cried Olivia Cordman.

Rollison hung on the answer, but allowed himself to see how the others reacted. Mona still battled with tears, Mrs Abbott thrust her chin out in a kind of defiance, but her gaze was fixed on Stride.

“How the hell do you do it?” he muttered. “How can you know?”

“It’s another of her tricks,” put in Mrs Abbott. “Don’t let her fool you—she looks up the information first and then pretends the stars told her. It’s all rubbish.”

“But were you born late?” asked Olivia Cordman.

Lucifer Stride had regained his composure. “I really have no idea,” he said shortly. Obviously he was not going to favour one side or the other. “And it’s time I went—past time.” He nodded to Rollison and moved towards the door. Rollison followed him into the hall and they stood by the front door for a moment, Stride tight-lipped, obviously worried.

“So she was right,” Rollison said.

“When I was a kid I got tired of being told how long my mother had to wait for me. It’s— it’s uncanny. And Mona told me—” Stride caught his breath. “There can’t be anything in it, can there? No one can see into the future or into the past?”

“I shall need a lot of convincing,” Rollison said reassuringly.

Stride nodded, opened the door and marched out. Rollison watched him walk down the stairs, his jauntiness gradually returning, but he did not look round from the first half-landing.

As Rollison closed the door, Jolly appeared.

“Did you hear that?” Rollison asked him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is it nonsense?”

“I would prefer to suspend judgment,” Jolly said handsomely. “Do you intend to ask Miss Cordman to stay for lunch?”

“No, I’ll get rid of her,” Rollison said. “I—”

A scream cut across his words making the two men spin round. There was a flurry of footsteps in the living- room, what sounded like a struggle, and confused shouting:

“Let me go . . . let me go!”

“Hold her!”

“Stop him!”

Rollison had a vision of Mrs Abbot attacking Mona, but as he burst into the living-room he saw Olivia Cordman holding the struggling girl, Mrs Abbot gaping, Madam Melinska standing by the window and looking down into the street.

“. . . Stop him! ” cried Mona, as Rollison appeared. “Don’t let him go, they’re lying in wait for him! They’ll kill him!”

She pulled herself free, darted past Rollison and rushed to the door. Rollison hesitated for a split second before turning and rushing after her. He reached the door first, opened it, and bellowed:

“Stride! Come back!”

Only the echo of his own voice answered him, hollow and unrewarding. Just behind, the girl was sobbing:

“They’ll kill him, I know they will!”

Rollison raced down the stairs, alarmed in spite of himself. Reaching the passage, he saw the street door was closed—Lucifer Stride had not lost a second. Rollison sprang towards the door and swung it open—and three things happened almost simultaneously.

A car engine roared with sudden, menacing harshness.

Lucifer Stride, halfway across the street, hesitated and stood with his hands raised, as if mesmerised, as the car raced towards him.