I would not ask how long he planned to wait after Monday before giving up on the idea of the villain’s breaking from cover. He would set beaters around the shrubbery after his game, and if that technique failed, he would go in after the man himself. I suppressed a shiver.
“How do we divide them up?”
“You and Holmes will watch Ivo Hughenfort tonight, after I have made my announcement. Ali will be with Sidney. When I have finished and handed the boy over to his mother, I will relieve Holmes and send him to Ali. You and I will then follow Ivo, Ali and Holmes will watch Sidney.”
I thought about it. He clearly considered Sidney Darling the more likely suspect, since Ali’s powers of surreptitious pursuit could be surpassed only by the suspect’s own shadow. I wondered if Holmes agreed with his assessment.
“You are to watch our suspects, Holmes and I are to watch your backs,” I clarified.
He grinned. “It is a role you have played before, Amir.”
“And until Monday night, how do you intend to ensure the boy’s safety?”
“Iris and the boy’s mother will be with him.” Before I could formulate a polite way of saying that the two women were completely without experience in the finer arts of body-guarding, he smiled. “Along with one of your brother-in-law’s people, whom your Holmes is bringing from London. A kindly grey-haired woman, very deceptive, very competent. I see what you are thinking, Mary, and I agree: I had rather spirit the boy away this instant and keep him beneath my robes than expose him to danger. But he is a Hughenfort, and we have been soldiers for a thousand years. However, I believe that if the boy’s legitimacy can be rendered null, there will be no reason for our culprit to murder him. The risk would be great, and the alternative too simple. No; this is the only way.”
It was not the only way, but it was the most direct, and in any case the situation had been firmly taken out of my hands. I could merely await my orders and pray all would go well.
“I am your humble servant,” I replied. In Arabic.
“Servant you may be,” he rejoined. “Humble I sincerely doubt.”
Iris came in then, and dropped onto the settee with a cigarette and a shake of the head. “Marsh, I shall remain forever grateful to you that I am not called upon to mastermind an affair such as this. Planning a dinner party for six stretches my abilities.”
“Phillida seems to find it a pleasure,” he mused.
“She’s quite mad. I found her arguing with the stuffed-animal man that he’d brought an alligator with the crocodiles. I ask you, how did she know? And what does it matter?”
“Only to another alligator,” I said.
“What are you going as, Mary?” she asked me.
“It’s a surprise. I mean, to me as well. Holmes is in London, and said he’d bring something back for me.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“Holmes has a dreadful habit of allowing his sense of humour free rein at times like this. Once he dressed me as a lady of the evening. Another time I wore a water-butt.”
“A water-butt? You’re joking. And I thought you said you’d never been to a fancy-dress ball before.”
“No ball, just disguise. A barrel under a drainpipe. A very damp and draughty disguise.”
“Well, I am sure if what he comes up with is too awful, the costume box is still there—isn’t it, Marsh? Mary could come as Napoleon. He tried to conquer Egypt once, didn’t he?”
“More or less. But he’s a few thousand years late for the theme of this ball.”
“You honestly think that will make a whit of difference to the guests? Half of them won’t even know where Egypt is.”
“I could always decapitate one of the stuffed ibises in the Hall, put it on my head and come as Thoth.”
Still, I couldn’t help wondering what sort of costume Holmes would show up with.
Our council was interrupted by the door’s flying open and Lady Phillida’s stepping in—a harried-looking Lady Phillida who had neglected to put on her face that morning. The thin lines of her plucked eyebrows were nearly invisible, giving her a look of naked surprise that did not agree with the tension in her jaw.
“Have you seen the children?” she demanded without preamble.
“We have not,” Marsh said.
“That feeble Paul woman is the most useless governess. I should have left them in London.”
“If they come here, I shall ask them to report to you instantly,” Marsh told her.
She turned a glare on him, her forehead puckering with the suspicion that he was laughing at her concerns. Some other thought seemed to occur to her as well, triggered by her belated awareness that her brother was in an unusual state of mind, and that on a day such as this, any new factor could prove catastrophic.
“Are you all right?” she asked sharply.
“I am feeling very well indeed.”
“You’re not drunk? Oh, God, Marsh, you can’t be drinking today! Iris, can’t you—”
“I am not drinking, I have not drunk, I will not drink.”
“Look, Marsh, I know you must be concerned about tonight, but really, there won’t be anything to it. Sidney will stand up after dinner and introduce you, you’ll say thank you for coming, and then everyone will get back to the dancing. Just a brief moment so as to introduce formally the seventh Duke. I know how you hate a crowd, but you can do that, Marsh, can’t you?”
“Alistair will make the introduction.”
“No, no; Sidney’s got his speech all ready.”
“Phillida.” That was all Marsh said, but the unaccustomed note of complete authority in his voice got her attention. She blinked, and took another step inside the room as if to see him more clearly. Her antennae were quivering; she knew something was up here, just not what it was, or how it would affect her.
“But Sidney—”
“No. I want Ali.”
“I don’t have the time for this,” she fretted. “Oh, very well, Alistair it is. Just tell him that all he has to do is introduce the seventh Duke of Beauville. Surely he can handle that.”
“Don’t worry,” Marsh told her. “The seventh Duke will have his introduction.”
Now she was certain that he was hiding something from her, and it worried her deeply. “Marsh, what do you have planned? You’re hiding something. I swear, Marsh, if you do anything to spoil this evening, I’ll—”
“Phillida, I will not spoil your evening. Your guests will go away happy.”
She might have pursued the matter—not that it would have done her much good, since her brother clearly had no intention of explaining further—but shouts and a crash from somewhere back in the house caught her attention. “Oh, Lord, what’s happened now? I have to go. Iris, Mary, keep an eye on him,” she pleaded, an attempt to enlist the sensible minds in the room onto her side—a futile attempt, as our faces told her. She threw up her hands, left the library, and then stuck her head back inside. “If you see the children, tell them to go to Miss Paul instantly, or I shall be quite angry.”
The door banged shut, and I made to go as well, but stopped when Marsh said, “Angry with me, do you suppose, or angry with the children?”
“Both, I should think,” Iris told him.
“In that case, perhaps I should have mentioned to her that they’re in the conservatory.”
Iris and I turned sharply in our chairs, to look through the billiards room to the glass house beyond. Indeed, after a few seconds, the anaemic vine jerked as if its roots were under attack.
“I merely told her that I hadn’t seen them,” Marsh explained placidly. “Which I hadn’t.”
“Marsh, you’re terrible,” Iris scolded.
The liberated duke just shrugged. He looked so pleased with himself, I could have hugged him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
