‘I have every objection,’ said Fenella.
‘Oh, very well, then. I hope we shall meet again when you are in softer mood. So long, and don’t say I didn’t warn you. Goodnight.’ He turned back and Fenella strolled aimlessly towards the hill, but the pointless walk soon palled and the air was chilly in spite of her warm coat. After about a quarter of an hour, during which she was twice whistled at by young men on their way to the inn and once growled at by a dog, she returned to what she now thought of as her secret entrance and, after shooting the bolts and avoiding the iron ring of the trapdoor in the floor, she mounted again to her room. By her watch it was still only twenty minutes past eight, far too early to think of going to bed. She had nothing to read, but she remembered The Swiss Family Robinson which she had replaced in the bookcase in the lounge, and decided that it would be far better than nothing with which to while away the next couple of hours and get her thoughts, which had been thrown into confusion by the encounter, sorted out again.
She traversed the long corridor with its tricky up and down flights of steps, mounted the steep front staircase and, not stopping to pause, opened the door of the lounge and walked in.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Signs of the Zodiac
‘The material with which I have to deal is so elusive, the whole subject is wrapped in such obscurity and hampered by so much prejudice, that I can find few really qualified persons who care to approach these investigations seriously.’
E. and H. Heron – The Story of Yand Manor House
As soon as she was across the threshold, Fenella realised that it had been an error on her part to go to the lounge on that particular evening, but not an error whose consequences she might have anticipated. The persons seated at the table, which had been opened out to the full extent of its two leaves and now was circular, were not a collection of local froth-blowers, the over-spill from the bar, but a sober and silent company whose only claim to notice (but it was a powerful one) lay in their utter absorption in a game of cards they were playing, plus the fact that each member was got up in what appeared to be fancy dress.
Realising that they were unaware of her entrance, she stood for a moment or two in contemplation of them. They were all black-gowned, but only two of them wore the same shape or pattern of head-dress. Their faces were masked. Some were intended to represent animals or fish, others had a human semblance. One bore on his head the likeness of a canvas bucket, another the model of a pair of scales. Two of those who happened to be sideways-on to Fenella wore human face-masks with fair wigs, one close-cropped, the other with long, yellow tresses. A broad band, possibly stiffened with wire or whale-bone, joined the crowns of their flaxen heads.
After the first moments of fascinated surprise, Fenella had no difficulty in recognising that these fantastically-costumed creatures represented the signs of the zodiac. The only lighting in the room was by candles, one of which had been placed at the left-hand side of each player. This left most of the room in darkness and made the figures of the mummers (or whatever they were) picturesque, remarkable and frightening. The shifting shadows, as little eddies of air made the candles flicker, were flung huge, dark and dancing on the walls and window-curtains, and the effect, as great black hands manipulated the shadow-game of cards which was being played, was that of a child’s nightmare.
Secure in the fact that the bulk of the fairly large room was in darkness, Fenella remained where she was, partly because she was fascinated by the strange, unexpected company and their proceedings, partly because to betray her presence was, of necessity, to be obliged to explain it and, considering that she had been told not to enter the room – it seemed for a very good reason – this, she thought, might be embarrassing.
She felt fairly certain that the party consisted of both men and women, although, in the flickering candlelight and because of the all-enveloping nature of the black robes and the concealment given by the masks, she could not be sure that she was right about this. The signs of the zodiac, she noticed, were not only represented in the wearers’ headgear, but were marked out in white on the black cloth which covered the table. From where she stood she could see that the designs on the cloth corresponded with the caps of the wearers, and although her view of the tablecloth was limited, being partly obscured by the shadows cast by the players’ voluminous sleeves as they manipulated the cards with which they were playing their silent game, it seemed reasonably clear that each one of the party was seated opposite his own sign on the table.
In front of her she recognised Sagittarius. She could not mistake the arrow which appeared to be stuck through the top of his head. On his left was Capricorn, with his goat’s mask from which depended a ridiculous, ragged beard. She was less certain of the figures further away from her, although she had already recognised Libra and (she supposed) Gemini and, as the figure on the right of Sagittarius was undoubtedly Scorpio, she took it that the signs were following their established order of months and days.
As the candlelight eddied and flickered, she gradually picked out and recognised more of the fortune-telling symbols. She noticed Leo’s magnificent mask and terrible mane; the curled horns of Aries; the splendid fish – a salmon, she guessed – which decorated the head of Pisces; the ferocious bull-mask and wicked, forward-thrusting horns of Taurus.
The
