Pansy held out a moment or so longer, then gave in. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew, anyway. Samuel had said that himself. “The Christmas Angel. He’s going around Badgers End killing all sorts of people. He leaves golden angels on their foreheads and chops off lumps of their hair.”
A loud gasp echoed across the room. Pansy swung around, just in time to get a glimpse of Lizzie’s terrified face before the maid rushed from the room.
“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Gertie said, looking a little frightened herself. “It’ll be all over the Pennyfoot. You’d better tell me the rest of it.”
Pansy shivered. “I don’t know any more than that. Madam and Samuel have been going around asking questions, but Samuel says nobody knows why he’s killing people. They think he’s loony and just does it because he feels like it.”
Gertie’s face had turned pale. “Where is he killing people? Not here in the hotel?”
Pansy felt sick. “No, no, not here. All over Badgers End. Remember Jimmy, the dairy farm boy?”
Gertie nodded.
“Well, it were the Christmas Angel what killed him. He killed a shoemaker and a farmer as well.”
Gertie looked as if she was about to cry. “I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it’s true. Samuel wouldn’t joke about a thing like that. Ask him yourself.”
“Does Chubby know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, we’d better tell her, before Lizzie spreads it all over the Pennyfoot. Maybe we can stop her. Come on!”
Gertie sped across the room to the door, and Pansy followed, certain now that she’d never get the chance to help Doris in the pantomime. Mrs. Chubb was never going to forgive her for spreading the word about the Christmas Angel.
Worse, Samuel was going to be really cross with her, too. This was turning out to be a horrible Christmas season.
Cecily arrived back at the Pennyfoot to find the entire place in an uproar. The lobby was full of young women and a half dozen children all milling about, some crying, some shouting, and all of them acting as if the world were about to come to an end.
Spying one woman huddled on the staircase, clinging to a banister, Cecily hurried over to her. “Mabel! Whatever has happened? Has someone been hurt?”
Mabel let go of the banister and clutched Cecily’s skirt. Loud enough for the entire population of Badgers End to hear, she yelled, “There’s a madman loose in the village! He’s going around chopping off people’s heads!”
Loud screams greeted her words, adding to the chaos in the lobby. Cecily rolled her eyes at the ceiling, then waded into the hysterical crowd, searching for someone, anyone, who could help her restore order.
As if in answer to her thoughts, a bellow erupted from the stairs, quieting the frightened women. “What the blue blazes is going on here?”
A few whimpers answered, but Baxter put an end to that with a raised hand. “Silence! This is a respectful country club. I will not tolerate such raucous behavior. You will leave the premises immediately. All of you.”
Cries of fear greeted his command and Cecily sped back to the stairs. Bounding up them to stand by his side, she called out, “Quiet, everyone. I have something important to say.”
It took a few moments of grumblings and whimpering before the group fell silent. Cecily made an effort to sound calm and confident. “Please, listen to me. The person they are calling the Christmas Angel is not chopping off people’s heads, I can assure you. Neither is he running around killing off everyone he sees. It is true one or two men have died recently, but at the moment we have no way of knowing who killed them or why. In any case, no women have been killed, so none of you has cause to worry. You can go home now. You will all be perfectly safe, I promise you.”
Praying that was true, she watched the women file fearfully out of the door.
Baxter said nothing until the door had closed behind the last performer. “You managed to calm them down. Well-done,” he said, rubbing his fingers across is brow. “That caterwauling was giving me a blasted headache.”
Cecily followed him up the stairs. “How did they find out about the murders?”
“I don’t know. I had just arrived home and was reading when I heard the racket below and came down to see what was going on. I was surprised to see you in their midst.”
“I walked in on them.” Cecily frowned. “Someone must have told them.”
She reached the turn of the staircase just as a voice called out from below.
“Oh, there you are, Cecily! A word with you, please?”
Baxter groaned. “I was wondering where she had gone.”
Cecily turned to look down at Phoebe. “She must have stayed behind in the ballroom. She probably wants to know what all the ruckus was about.”
“Just don’t bring her up to the suite.” Baxter left her, climbing rapidly to the top of the stairs.
Grimacing, Cecily hurried down to where Phoebe stood by the Christmas tree. Cecily had been so focused on the group of hysterical women she’d failed to notice that Madeline had decorated the tree.
Colored glass balls hung from the branches, while lacy white snowflakes and red and gold bells added color. Cecily saw gold garlands and silver ribbons, but nowhere on the tree were the golden angels that usually hung there. Madeline obviously had decided they would be inappropriate.
Phoebe looked at the tree with an air of disdain. “It’s not up to her usual standards.”
“I think it’s lovely.” Cecily relaxed her shoulders. Phoebe must not have heard the uproar in the lobby or the news of the Christmas Angel, or she would most likely have been beside herself with terror.
“Well, to each his own.” Phoebe tucked her hands inside her fur muff. “Have you seen Frederick? I looked in the bar, but he’s not there. I was wondering if perhaps he was visiting Mr. Baxter in your suite.”
Cecily almost laughed. The idea of Baxter entertaining the addle-headed colonel was ludicrous. “I just left Baxter and he made no mention of the colonel. Have you looked in the library? Sometimes he takes a brandy in there to sip by the fireplace.”
Phoebe clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I suppose he could be there. Now I shall have to go all the way back there to look.”
Just then Cecily caught sight of Gertie and Pansy emerging from the hallway. She beckoned to them, and they rushed over to her.
“I’m so sorry, m’m,” Pansy said, dropping a shaky curtsey. “I had no idea Lizzie was there. I wouldn’t have said nothing otherwise. It just sort of slipped out.”
Cecily realized at once to what she referred.
Before she could signal to her to be quiet, however, Gertie added, “That bloody twerp told everyone about the Christmas Angel. I told her he was just chopping off locks of hair, but she went running around saying he was killing people and chopping off their heads, and I…” Gertie’s voice trailed off as she finally noticed Cecily’s eyebrows frantically twitching up and down.
It was too late, however. Phoebe turned slowly to Cecily, her voice pitched an octave higher. “Chopping off people’s heads?”
Cecily took hold of her arm and felt it shaking beneath her fingers. “Now, now, Phoebe, it’s quite all right. No one is chopping off heads.”
“No, course not,” Gertie said helpfully. “The crazy bugger cuts off a lock of their hair after he kills them and sticks a gold angel on their foreheads. That’s why they call him the Christmas Angel.”
“Oh, my.” Phoebe’s eyes rolled up in her head and her knees sagged.
Supporting her friend as best she could, Cecily glared at Gertie. “Bring a chair over here and don’t say another word.”
“Yes, m’m.” Gertie hustled across the foyer and dragged a chair out from behind the reception desk.
Phoebe moaned, and her eyes fluttered open. “Oh, my goodness. What happened?”
“You had rather a nasty shock,” Cecily said, seating her on the chair. “Pansy, fetch a glass of brandy from the bar, and while you’re there look for Colonel Fortescue and ask him to come to the foyer right away. If he’s not in the
