The Affair of the Mutilated Mink

by James Anderson

  'Good. Mummy won't be there then, will she?'

  'Doubt it. Why?'

  'You'll see.'

  'Look, what are you up to?'

  'Never mind. Just don't be surprised at anything about me.'

  'Ever thought of trying to make it in pictures?' Rex asked.

  Paul laughed. 'Good heavens, no.'

  'Why not think about it? You've got the looks and the physique.'

  'For one thing, I can't act for toffee.'

  'Don't let that stop you. It didn't stop me.'

  'Oh, no false modesty, my dear chap,' Lord Burford said. 'You know you're one of the world's great actors.'

  Rex gave an exaggerated start. 'Jumping Jehosophat! Hey, Cyrus.'

  Nearby, Haggermeir, a dry martini in his hand, was conversing with Cecily. He looked up. 'Yeah?'

  Rex said, 'Just say that again, will you, George - slowly and distinctly.'

  'Certainly.' He did so.

  'D'you hear that?' Rex asked triumphantly. ' "One of the world's great actors." George, you've made a buddy for life. You're the only person - apart from my ma - ever to say that. And she doesn't say it too often. Just once in a while to try and convince herself.'

  'Be careful, Lord Burford,' Haggermeir said, 'that's the way to wreck his career. If Rexy once gets it into his head he can act he'll want to start proving it. And Hamlet's box office poison.'

  Lord Burford scratched his head. 'I don't understand. You mean you don't think he's a good actor?'

  'Wa-all.' Haggermeir shrugged.

  'But you amaze me, my dear fellow. To me he's every bit as good as Errol Flynn.'

  'Can't hold a candle to Rin Tin Tin, though,' Rex said with a grin.

  Quite perplexed by this, the Earl looked round the room. Cecily had moved away and was talking to Maude Fry, while Gilbert had cornered Sebastian and was holding forth on the iniquities of literary agents, emphasising his points with a series of prods to the chest, at every one of which Sebastian took a little step backwards. Standing alone, his face set in a scowl, was Hugh.

  Lord Burford was wondering if he should go across and talk to him, though the young man's demeanour didn't suggest he'd welcome this. The Earl was just wishing Gerry would come in when the door opened and she entered.

  Everyone glanced automatically towards her - and there was an abrupt silence.

  Gerry had changed out of the tweed suit and brogues she'd been wearing earlier and was now attired in a slinky, tight-fitting dress of black satin and very high-heeled shoes. Her face had been almost free of make-up before, but now her eyes were painted with mascara and her cheeks were rouged. Her hair was swept upwards to the top of her head. She was smoking a cigarette in a six-inch holder. She crossed the room in a sinuous, undulating walk.

  Lord Burford closed his eyes, Paul coughed into a handkerchief and Hugh stared in horror.

  Gerry made a straight line for Gilbert. He watched her approach with the fascination of a rabbit watching a snake. Gerry stopped in front of him, gave him a long, cool stare, slowly exhaled a lungful of smoke and said softly, 'Arlington Gilbert.'

  She held out her hand in a regal gesture. Uncertain whether to shake it or kiss it, Gilbert compromised by taking it and giving a sort of half bow. 'At your service, Lady Geraldine.'

  'I have long been an ardent admirer of your work, Mr Gilbert—'

  Then, as he straightened up, gazing at her with a mixture of gratification, alarm, admiration and bewilderment, she broke off and said in a decidedly frosty voice, 'Mr Gilbert, you are looking at me as though I were something the cat had dragged through a hedge backwards. Why?'

  Gilbert gave a start. 'I beg your pardon, Lady Geraldine. It's just that - there was a girl in the village earlier . . . Jupiter's teeth, it's incredible!'

  'I see nothing incredible. There are many girls in the village.'

  'But this one was — forgive me — the absolute image of you. In a bucolic way, of course.'

  'But naturally.'

  'I'm sorry . . . ?

  'Mr Gilbert, my family has held sway over this district for hundreds of years. Until quite recently they virtually had powers of life and death over the peasantry. Even today there are hundreds of them dependent on this estate. My father is certainly the first lord of the manor of whom - unfortunately - the great majority of them are not absolutely terrified.'

  For a moment Gilbert looked blank. Then comprehension dawned. 'I see. And you mean that your ancestors exercised this power, er, liberally?'

  'Of course. You could no doubt find half a dozen girls in the vicinity who bear a resemblance to me.'

  Gilbert chuckled. 'That sounds as though it would be a very worthwhile pursuit. But why did you use the word 'unfortunately' just now?'

  Gerry took his arm and drew him to one side. She spoke softly. 'My father cares not a fig for power. If he did, the mere terror of our name would mean we could control these people as our forefathers did.' Her voice grew harsher. 'They could not get away with their present laziness and insolence.'

  'Insolence? Well, I must admit that girl I mentioned was unusually cheeky.'

  'Tell me: was she employed at the garage?'

  'That's right.'

  'Pah!' Gerry banged a nearby table with her fist. 'That hussy is one of the worst. And they say she is the one most like me in appearance. She no doubt made disparaging remarks about me. The things I'd like to do to that girl! Oh, for the power my great- great-grandmother had! Do you know what she did once to a serving wench who'd displeased her?'

  Gilbert shook his head.

  Gerry put her head close to his and whispered in his ear. As he listened, Gilbert's expression changed. He gave a gulp. Gerry drew back and gazed at him with satisfaction.

  And you'd, er, like to do the same to that garage girl?'

  Actually, I can think of some interesting refinements.'

  Gilbert gave a sickly grin. 'I must say I'm sure your peasants don't appreciate just how lucky they are to be so free.'

  'They'd better enjoy it while they can.'

  'Oh, yes?'

  'Yes. You see, I know of several ways in which our - or rather, my - dominance over them could be asserted as in old times. Absolutely reasserted - body and soul.'

  For a moment Gerry's eyes shone with a fanatical light. Then suddenly this faded and she was giving Gilbert a warm smile. 'However, that's enough of me. Mr Gilbert, did I say how very great an admirer of your work I am? I do feel I'm going to become just as keen an admirer of you as a man. Do come and sit down and tell me all about yourself.'

  And she put a hand on his and drew him unprotesting but bewildered across the room to a sofa.

  * * *

  Over lunch the atmosphere at Alderley grew considerably easier. Lord Burford, basking in the fact that he and Rex were now 'buddies,' had lost all his nervousness and was his usual self. Rex meanwhile concentrated on exerting all his considerable charm on Lady Burford, and in spite of herself the Countess could not help gradually softening under the impact.

  The fact that Gerry was playing a hoax on Gilbert had also got round among the other guests, and everybody was waiting with anticipation for the next development. However, for the time being she contented herself with remaining largely silent and throwing him long and meaningful looks from under her lashes.

  It was towards the close of the meal that Merryweather entered, bearing a silver salver on which was a telegram. He took it to Haggermeir.

  As Haggermeir read it his eyebrows went up. 'What in tarnation . . . ? This doesn't make sense. Lady Burford, it seems you may be having another guest shortly. I think you'd better read this.' He passed it to her.

  Lady Burford picked up her lorgnette and read aloud, 'Invitation accepted. Arriving Alderley Thursday afternoon. Lorenzo.' She gazed at Haggermeir. 'Who is this person?'

  'Search me.'

  'You don't know a Mr Lorenzo?'

  He shook his head. 'And if I did I'd certainly not invite him here without your permission.'
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  'How very strange,' Lady Burford said.

  Gerry said, 'May I see?' She took the telegram. 'Handed in at a London post office. No address of sender. Quite a mystery.'

  'Well, we certainly won't sit around waitin' for the chap,' Lord Burford said. 'What d'you all want to do with yourselves this afternoon?'

  'Well, I know what I want to do,' Rex answered, 'and that's to see your famous gun collection.'

  Haggermeir nodded. 'Me, too.'

  The Earl looked delighted. 'Oh, capital. Great pleasure. Anybody else? Arlington?'

  Gilbert nodded condescendingly. 'I don't mind.'

  'Sebastian?'

  'Oh.' Sebastian looked doubtful. 'Guns? Will - will - will they be going off? Can't stand bangs, you know.'

  'There is a firing range up there, and I may demonstrate one or two. But I'll give plenty of advance warning, so anyone who wants to leave can do so.'

  'Oh, right. Jolly good.'

  'Am I invited?' Cecily asked.

  'Oh, of course, my dear. Didn't think you'd be interested. Ladies aren't very as a rule.'

  'I can't say I am normally. But your collection is world famous, and I would like at least a glimpse of it.'

  'Splendid. Any more for the Skylark? Hugh?'

  'I don't like guns,' Hugh said shortly.

  'Oh, as you wish, my boy. Paul - you saw it last time you were here.'

  'Yes, but I didn't do it justice. I'd love to have another look.'

  Hugh glowered at him, 'On the other hand,' he said loudly, 'I understand the craftsmanship on some of these old pistols is very fine. I'd like to see them from that point of view.'

  Lord Burford looked pleased. 'That's everybody, then. He glanced round the table, counting on his fingers. 'No, that's wrong. Who did I leave out?'

  'Me, I think, Lord Burford.' It was the quiet Maude Fry who spoke.

  'Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Fry. You're very welcome, of course.'

  'Thank you. Like Mrs Everard, I should be interested in at least a glimpse.'

  It was therefore a party of eight which, half an hour later, Lord Burford led up to the first floor. At the top of the stairs he turned right. Halfway along the eastern corridor he opened a pair of double doors on the right and led the way through a long gallery, which ran most of the outer side of the wing. It was lined with painted portraits and was unfurnished, except for a number of sofas and upright chairs against the walls.

  The Earl crossed the gallery to another door opposite. This was the entrance to the top floor of the eastern extension, the ballroom being beneath it. Lord Burford unlocked it with a key attached to his watch chain, saying as he did so, 'Live ammunition in here as well as the guns, so I always keep it locked.'

  Immediately beyond the door was another one. The Earl unlocked this one also, then stood back and ushered his guests through.

  They found themselves at the end of a long, delightfully proportioned room, with French doors leading onto a balustraded balcony at the end, beyond which the lake could be seen.

  But the visitors noticed practically nothing except the hundreds of guns with which, apart from a clear path down the centre, the room was filled. Pistols were in display cases, rifles slung around the walls, while at the far end a number of cannon and other large guns were standing. One section of the room was partitioned off to form a firing range, and there was a large cupboard where Lord Burford kept ammunition and various accessories.

  Except for Paul, the visitors each gave a little gasp as they entered. Then they just stood, staring round in amazed disbelief.

  The years had given Lord Burford a great deal of experience in showing his collection. He knew well what interested people and had a fund of anecdotes concerning his exhibits, which - to their own surprise - kept even Sebastian, Hugh and the two women attentive. Two hours in fact passed quickly for everybody, and it was past four when they all trooped out, the Earl carefully locking up again.

  They were making their way along the corridor when Cecily said, 'Oh, by the way, George, don't I remember something about a secret passage here?'

  'Yes, I'll show you.'

  He turned into the main corridor and opened the second door on the right. This was a room used for linen storage. As the others crowded in after him, Lord Burford crossed to the far wall, put his hands against one of the wooden panels, and pushed to the right. The panel slid sideways, revealing a large black square.

  'There you are,' Lord Burford said. 'Comes out in the breakfast room downstairs. Anybody feel like going down through it? No takers?'

  'Well, you know,' Cecily said, 'I really wouldn't mind. I used to love stories about secret passages when I was a girl. Sebastian - shall we?'

  'Oh,' Sebastian looked dubiously at the black hole in the wall. 'I hardly think so, precious. Awfully dark and dirty, what?'

  'Dark,' the Earl said, 'but there are flashlights. And it's reasonably clean.'

  'No - no - no, I'd much rather not, actually, if you don't mind,' Sebastian said. 'Spiders, you know, moths and things. Unpleasant generally.'

  'Yes, I suppose you're right,' Cecily said, a little wistfully. 'I certainly wouldn't want to go on my own.'

  'Madam, pray allow me to act as guide.' Paul stepped forward. 'I know this passage like the back of my hand. Been along it on at least - oh, one occasion.'

  'Why, thank you,' Cecily said.

  Paul stepped into the gap, reached for the shelf above his head and found the flashlight that was kept there. He switched it on. 'Very well, Mrs Everard, if we're to make camp by sundown, we'd better get moving.'

  'Oh, right.' Cecily gave a giggle and stepped in.

  'Mind the doors,' said Lord Burford, and he slid the panel across.

  The Earl was waiting in the breakfast room when Paul and Cecily emerged into the light of day a few minutes later. 'Well, how was it? Rather borin', eh?'

  Cecily blinked. 'Well, perhaps a little. But at least I can say I've been along a secret passage now.'

  * * *

  When Gerry came into the drawing room for tea she had transformed herself. She was wearing a simple jumper and skirt, sandals and bobby socks. All make-up had been removed and she had done her hair in two plaits tied with ribbon. She practically skipped about the room, prattling girlishly, and eating a great number of cream cakes, which she pronounced 'scrumptious.' Eventually she sat down by Gilbert and began plying him with questions about his work, such as didn't he find it terribly difficult spelling all those horrid long words?

  Except for Maude Fry, everybody else - even the Countess - was now in on the joke and all behaved perfectly normally, making no comment on the transformation. Gilbert, however, was plainly utterly perplexed - and alarmed. At last, finding it increasingly hard to keep a straight face, Gerry retired to the window seat and curled up with a book entitled The Most Popular Girl In The School, which she'd brought in with her.

  Gilbert immediately sidled over to Rex and tugged at his sleeve. 'What do you make of that?' he hissed.

  'What?'

  'Lady Geraldine. She was so different! You must have noticed.' He lowered his voice still further. 'I think she's a - a schizophrenic.'

  Rex frowned sharply. 'Don't say anything, man.'

  Gilbert's jaw dropped. 'You mean she is, really?'

  Rex just put his fingers to his lips.

  Gilbert walked shakily away and started whispering furiously to Maude Fry.

  'Just been thinkin',' Lord Burford said. 'Haven't given you much time to start your inspection of the house, have we?'

  'Oh, that's OK, Earl,' Haggermeir said. 'I wouldn't've missed your collection for the earth. Maybe, though, I could make a start after tea.'

  'By all means. What exactly do you want to do?'

  'Well, I'd just like your permission to wander all over the house. I want to measure the rooms and corridors, make rough sketches showing the positions and sizes of all the doors and windows, take some photos - all so I can figure out distances, camera angles, lighting and sound
problems, decide which rooms could be used for the various scenes, and so on.'

  'That's fine by me, old man. Go wherever you like.'

  Before Haggermeir could reply, the conversation was interrupted by the entry of Merryweather, who approached them, said 'Excuse me, my lord,' and addressed Haggermeir. 'A visitor has arrived and is asking for you, sir.'

  'Ah, is it our friend Lorenzo, by any chance?'

  'That is the name, sir.'

  Haggermeir said, 'I'll come out.'

  Lord Burford said, 'No need, my dear chap. I'm sure we all want to see this mysterious stranger. Is this person presentable, Merryweather?'

  'Eminently so, I should say, my lord.'

  'Then let the stranger be presented.'

  Merryweather bowed his head and withdrew. Half a minute passed and then he reappeared, to announce solemnly, 'Signorina Lorenzo.'

  There was a stunned silence as a magnificent figure swept imperiously into the room. She was about thirty-five, tall, with long, jet-black hair, dark flashing eyes and a flawless complexion. Her features, bold and regular, were more striking than beautiful. She looked as though she might have a superb figure; however, at the moment, it was obscured by a sumptuous mink coat, which made the eyes of every woman present widen. On her head she wore a toque in matching fur.

  She stood, regally surveying the room.

  Rex muttered, 'Holy mackerel! It's Laura Lorenzo.'

  Haggermeir stepped somewhat hesitantly forward. 'Signorina Lorenzo? This is, er, indeed a great . . .'

  She eyed him up and down. 'Who are you?'

  'Oh - sorry - I'm, er, Cyrus Haggermeir. I believe you—'

  'Ah.' She gave a satisfied nod. 'You are Haggermeir. So, Meesta Producer, you want Laura Lorenzo, eh? Well, here she is. Perhaps you will have her - if you can sateesfy her. But it will cost you. Oh yes, it will cost you many dollars.'

  For several seconds Haggermeir gazed at the woman, speechless. At last he managed to stammer, 'I - I see. Well, that's - that's certainly a most interesting . . . Do I - er, understand that you're offering me your services?'

  'That is what I am here to talk about, is it not?'