A Strange Manor of Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 3)

by R. A. Bentley

  'Who? No, that horrible child. The one with the gun.'

  'Do you mean, he goosed you, dear?' asked Janet.

  Joan looked uncomprehending. 'He poked me up the bottom.'

  Janet adopted a suitably judicial expression. 'I see,' she said solemnly. 'Did you witness this assault, Egg?'

  Egg, who was a heavy sleeper, shook his head. He was inclined to think he was still dreaming. 'Only just crawled out, I'm afraid. What's going on?'

  'He crept up behind me!' cried Joan. 'In my bathroom! I was terrified.'

  'I think I'm going to faint,' said Tony.

  'Lie flat,' commanded Charlotte. 'Arm up.'

  'He's only a little boy, Miss Joan,' said Nanny. 'He meant no harm.'

  'Of course he did!' snapped Joan. 'He did it on purpose!' She turned to Elizabeth. 'He's yours, isn't he? What are you going to do about it?'

  'Joan, can't this wait, dear?' said Janet. 'Mr FitzGreville has had an accident.'

  Joan glanced indifferently at the prostrated Tony. 'He poked me, up the bottom,' she shouted, 'He's not normal. He should be locked up!'

  Everyone stopped talking as Elizabeth slowly rose. Her jaw was thrust forward and her eyes had narrowed to mere slits. 'So you want to know what I'm going to do?' she asked softly.

  'Yes,' said Joan, retreating slightly.

  'Well, I'll tell you,' said Elizabeth. 'I'm going to take that sword over there – the big, rusty one – and I'm going to poke it up your nasty little bottom — to the hilt!

  'Doctor Crowther,' announced Fudge.

  'Hello,' said the doctor cheerfully. 'Where's the patient?'

  'You're shaking my arm,' complained Tony. 'It hurts!'

  Charlotte, who appeared to be in some distress, caught the doctor's eye. 'He's here,' she said, and fled the room.

  Egg found her sitting in the entrance hall. Tears poured down her face and her body shook in a most appealing way.

  'Oh, Eggy,' she implored. 'Don't say anything, or I'll wet myself!'

  "Eggy," mused Egg. Well, why not? It seemed reasonable to assume he'd passed his audition.

  Chapter Six

  Eight o'clock the next morning found Egg and Charlotte examining the FitzGreville family tomb. Situated in the dank shadow of the church, it was more in the nature a miniature mausoleum with a tiled roof, ornamental pilasters and a stout oaken door. Recalling his schooldays, Egg began to intone:

  '"The next with dirges due in sad array

  Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,

  Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay

  Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

  'But where is the thorn, aged or otherwise? I doubt it would do very well here anyway.'

  'It might have been chopped down,' said Charlotte. 'We don't know when he devised the questions. There should still be something on a stone, though, and there doesn't seem to be. Unless it's inside, of course.'

  'I don't think that's very likely. We'd have to apply to the verger for the key, and he'd want to know why. I'm inclined to think including it on the map was a red herring and the question doesn't refer to the tomb at all.'

  'I suppose it would look a bit creepy, under the circumstances,' agreed Charlotte. 'To ask for a key, I mean. Aged thorn, then — any ideas?'

  'I have, as a matter of fact. There's a hawthorn hedge, down towards the river.'

  They hurried back through the gardens and past the stable block, where they discovered the Manor's handyman-mechanic cheerfully washing the big, yellow steam car.

  'Morning, Franklin,' said Charlotte. 'Working on a Sunday? I don't believe you've met my fiancé, Mr Egbert FitzGreville.'

  'How do you do, sir?' smiled Franklin, offering a damp hand. 'I'm very pleased to meet you. And if I may make so bold, congratulations on your engagement. I always washes the car Sunday mornings, miss, ready for church. Sir Jasper was very particular about that.'

  'But who is it for?' frowned Charlotte. 'Miss Joan, doesn't like cars.'

  'Why, for you, miss! You'll be wanting to cut a dash this morning won't you? And if Mr Fudge can't manage it, I'll drive you.'

  'Franklin, that's a very kindly thought,' said Charlotte. 'I'm quite touched.'

  They left the man happily leathering.

  'I didn't know you knew him,' said Egg.'

  'Eats out of my hand,' said Charlotte airily. 'How did you think I got the Doble's engine number?'

  The hawthorn hedge separated the gardens at their lower end from the estate's woodland and water-meadows. It was bounded by a rough gravel path.

  'Been a while since this was laid,' said Egg, tapping a stout horizontal branch with his stick. 'All rather neglected. The sort of place where one might bury a pet, perhaps?'

  'That's a thought. Look, there's a complete tree. Would you say it was aged?'

  'It's the only one, so it'll have to do.' Stepping off the path, Egg raked about in the leaf-litter with his stick. 'And underneath — a stone! Hmm, "Toby 1874." A dog, one supposes. Could well have been young Jasper's.'

  'Scraped clean too — no moss. Someone's been here already.'

  'And covered it up again. Can't be Bernard; he'd never try it twice. What a sneaky lot they are. One despairs of human nature sometimes.'

  'You have to take the world as you find it, Eggy. So that just leaves the newlywed's letter. Rather appropriate really.'

  'Eternally stew dew?' suggested Egg. 'Ardently welts ewe?'

  Charlotte laughed. 'You're not still thinking of them? We'll have to leave it until later anyway. We've only got an hour.'

  'She's certainly delivered the goods,' said Roger, buttering more toast. 'Just as well, given our own abortive efforts.'

  'I'm filled with admiration,' agreed Vanda. 'To think of her going from room to room like that, bold as brass and completely on her own initiative! Amazing what dangling a few actors in front of a girl will do.'

  'Pity they're all pansies then. And we still have to do something with the answers. It may not be so easy.'

  'They're not all pansies, darling; some are in love with themselves and the rest are in love with me. It's as well there are no swords in the flat or I'd fear for their safety. And you're right; we're not there yet. I've been looking at them, and frankly I don't know where to begin.'

  'We've still got five hours. How about if we take them up to your room and work there?'

  'If we do that,' said Vanda disapprovingly, 'it won't get done. Business before pleasure.'

  'The library, then?'

  'No, let's go in the garden. It's a lovely morning and we won't be disturbed.'

  'Anyone else in church?' asked George.

  Janet gratefully accepted a coffee from Doris. 'Yes, Joan was there, and Nanny Matthews and most of the servants and Egg and Charlotte, looking very smart. They came round in the Doble as if they already own the place. They've put up the banns!'

  'Have they now. Marrying from here, then?'

  'Yes! How's that for confidence?'

  'Pity they're going to be disappointed.'

  'I know. I feel quite guilty.'

  'Rubbish. Our claim is as good as theirs. Better, in fact. Sure about number twenty-eight now?'

  'Oh yes. Six spikes.'

  'What about number five?'

  Janet looked a little doubtful. 'I think I understand that. If so, it's rather clever. I'll tell you later when there's no-one about. Do you think Tony will scratch? He's not going to feel much like it now, is he?'

  'Doubt if he'll be allowed to. That woman's like a bulldog; once she gets her teeth into something she doesn't let go.'

  'Shush! Here she comes now.'

  'Morning, Elizabeth dear,' said Janet. 'How's the wounded knight?'

  Elizabeth shrugged. 'He'll live. He's sitting out of bed if you want to go and see him. Excuse me, won't you? I've got to get on.'

  'You're still in contention then?'

  'Yes, of course we are. We're going to win this. I'll be outside if I'm wanted.' />
  'Told you so,' said George. 'I'm sure the poor chap would rather stay in Glebe Cottage. It's a nice little place and he's not the lord of the manor type.'

  'Whereas you'll make a splendid one, George. You look absolutely the part.'

  'You know,' said George complacently. 'I rather think I do.'

  'There you are, you see!' said Egg. 'A veritable embarrassment of heads.' Crossing to the wall he took down a billiard cue and brandished it. 'And "part of clue" is — cue!" Get it?'

  Charlotte bent and examined the antique billiard table, its sides ornamented with a carved hunting scene. 'Fifteen, if you count the fox. You're suggesting we work backwards, like with number five?'

  'Done that: "a newlywed's letter" is "a bridal billet." Rearrange it and you get "billiard table."'

  'Isn't that cheating, including the indefinite article?'

  'I admit it's a bit ambiguous. Forget the cue thing if you like and pinch an "a" from the question. It must be right anyway. Nothing else fits.'

  'I suppose so, said Charlotte. Not very satisfying, though. When did you work this out?'

  'It came to me this morning, during the service.'

  'You were supposed to be thinking religious thoughts.'

  'I was! I was thinking, "with my body, I thee worship."'

  Charlotte giggled and drew him to her. 'I'll let you off then. It was nice last night, wasn't it?'

  It was bright and sunny in the Austens' room and it seemed as good a place as any to work.

  'Moving the words about is no good,' said Emily despondently. 'You'd think there would be one meaningful phrase or sentence, if only by chance.'

  Bernard shook his head. 'Probably wouldn't be fiendish enough for Uncle Jasper. I've tried stringing all the letters together without a break but nothing's popped out. I'm going to reverse their order and see if that helps.'

  Emily looked doubtful. 'You could try it, I suppose.' Aware of voices, she stood up, stretched, and peered out of the window. Immediately beneath her was a little terrace with a wooden bench. Roger was sitting at one end of it with Vanda reclining against him. Both were studying their notebooks. It suddenly occurred to her that this was serious. I hope he doesn't break her heart, she thought. She's so lovely. 'I was wondering,' she began diffidently. 'It's just an idea I had, but could it be something to do with the numbers? The numbers by themselves, I mean? They are the theme, after all. At least, I suppose they are.'

  'How would that work?'

  'I don't really know. I thought you might, being an accountant.'

  'Bernard shook his head dismissively. 'Numbers can mean all sorts of things: handsome profit, someone fiddling the books, "you need to watch your transport costs, Mr Smith," but I don't see how they can point to a location. Unless it's a room number, I suppose. I'll persevere with this.

  Emily shrugged. 'All right. Maybe I'll have another look at the questions we missed, while you're doing that.'

  'Good idea, I'll see you later.'

  Emily hurried downstairs. Their bedroom, she knew, was over the billiard room. Outside the billiard room was the terrace. Throwing open the door, however, she stopped. 'Oh!' she said. 'Sorry.'

  'It's all right,' smiled Charlotte, disengaging herself. 'It's all yours.'

  'Wherever does one start?' said Vanda. 'My mind's gone blank.'

  Roger scratched his chin reflectively. 'Well, let's see. We have thirty answers. No obvious connection between any of them except Killigrew's theme, which must surely be numbers of things — nine of diamonds, seven spikes, and so on. All the answers contain them except number five, and that one refers to numbers: "Utere, non numera," which seems rather significant to me.'

  'Yes, I think it is. It would be a bit of a coincidence if it wasn't meant to be an instruction of some kind. Maybe it's telling us to use the letters in a number, rather than the number. You could make an anagram of those and perhaps get a location out of them.

  'Yes, you could. Or you could add those letters to all the others to give you more scope, or you could convert the numbers themselves into letters – 1 is A, 2 is B, and so on – and use those.'

  'I hadn't thought of converting them. Oh dear, I'm too stupid for this. I'm getting a headache already.'

  'Rubbish, you're far brighter than I am. You can quote whole plays.'

  'Not whole plays, darling. Anyway, that's just memory; I don't have to work anything out.'

  'We wouldn't have got very far without it,' said Roger. He sighed and sucked his pencil. 'Sundials, words, numbers . . . if we could but see it, the answer's probably staring us in the face.'

  Egg and Charlotte returned in triumph to the maze's little shelter. It now seemed a long while since they had so fortuitously met there, although it was, in fact, only five days. 'All done within the time allotted, and no cheating,' said Charlotte with satisfaction. 'Not much anyway.'

  'That's assuming we've made no mistakes,' cautioned Egg. 'And the hardest part may be yet to come. How do we tackle this?'

  'Rearrange the words in the answers and failing that make a long anagram out of the letters.'

  'Yes, we'll have to try that of course, but I'm pretty sure it's the numbers that matter, especially given question five. Why question five, I wonder?'

  'I suppose one and thirty would be too obvious. But would you "utere" the numbers as words or as digits? If the latter, how to convert them? You must surely need to do that, or what use are they? It's unlikely to be a straight substitution, 1 equals A and so on, as there wouldn't be enough variety of letters. They only go up to nine in sequence and then it's just the occasional one.'

  'It's not completely hopeless,' said Egg. 'There are several fives, for example, which you'd probably need. I'll give it a go.'

  Emily found Bernard with his feet up, smoking. 'Hello darling. Got it yet?'

  'Ha-ha,' said Bernard sourly. 'I can tell you what doesn't work. I've tried everything I can think of and I'm no forwarder.'

  'Have you given up? You look as though you have.'

  'No, of course not. I'm just pondering.'

  'Well I've solved question five.'

  'Oh yes?' said Bernard indifferently.

  'Yes! The really difficult one, remember? You can't make a number out of it.'

  'Then you haven't solved it, have you?'

  'No, listen! What I mean is, it isn't possible to make a number out of it. You could with the others but not this one. Instead it gives an instruction: "use, don't count." It's on the sundial in the rose garden.'

  'Sundials have numbers.'

  'This one hasn't. It's just got the motto round the edge.'

  'And what do you infer from that?'

  'I think it proves my theory. To get the answer, you have to use the numbers, but not as numbers, if you see what I mean.'

  'I don't know that I do. How did you work it out?'

  'Oh, it was quite easy in the end,' said Emily, glancing away from him. 'Anyway,' she added hastily, 'it's all coming together now. I'm going to win this for us, Bernie, and you'll be proud of me!'

  'Where are you going now?'

  'Just a bit more research.'

  'Eureka!' cried Egg, jumping up. 'At least, I think so. Excuse me, I must find a telephone.'

  'You're not allowed to use the telephone.'

  'I don't want to use it; I just want to look at it.'

  Charlotte eyed him dubiously. 'Another FitzGreville eccentricity would this be? Any special taste in them?'

  'I suppose you had to know eventually,' said Egg. 'Telephones are my obsession. A day without sight of a one is a day wasted. I shan't be long.'

  'I suppose I can tolerate that,' sighed Charlotte. 'It's not as if it's golf. Just look at this first, though.'

  Trying not to appear impatient, Egg studied her notebook. 'Hmm, you're very methodical aren't you? All nicely laid out. Oh, gosh! Hamlet.'

  'Stares you in the face. Didn't you see it?'

  'No, I got this other idea. You've rather taken the wind out of my sails.' />
  'An idea about telephones, do you mean?'

  'Yes, but never mind that now.'

  They re-entered the house.

  'Well here's one if you want it,' said Charlotte dryly, 'A rather ordinary-looking model to my untutored eye: mouthpiece, receiver and dial. Though no doubt to an enthusiast . . .' She fell silent for a moment. 'Oh, I see. That's rather clever, Eggy.'

  'Possibly too clever,' said Egg. 'Come on, let's find the Maid of Elsinore.'

  'It won't take both of us. You should go and work on yours, just in case.'

  'Well, if you're sure.'

  Charlotte watched him leave. A nearby curtain protected the modesty of the cellar door and she turned to address it. 'Hear what you wanted, Elizabeth?' She enquired sweetly, and began to run.

  'Oh no you don't,' snarled Elizabeth.

  It was an unequal race. Lean and long legged, the older woman was halfway up the stairs before Charlotte reached them. She arrived, panting heavily, on the landing to find her adversary cornered by Nanny Matthews.

  'I can't be watching him every minute of the day,' Nanny was saying.

  Smirking, Charlotte slipped past them. Room number five appeared to be untenanted. She attempted to close and lock the door behind her but found a foot in it.

  'Not so fast, fat girl,' said Elizabeth, and pushed her hard.

  Charlotte gasped, staggered and fell. Stepping over her, Elizabeth scanned the walls before reached up for a print of Millais's Ophelia in a polished mahogany frame. She wasn't quick enough. Charlotte lunged, grabbed an ankle and brought her down. The two women fought like cats between the bed and the dressing table, but silently, as in a film without an accompaniment.

  Egg was also running. That is to say, the wild, hoppity-skip shamble that was his version of it. Back into the maze he flew, following without conscious thought the tortuous route to its centre. 1 equals nothing, 2 equals abc, 0 equals o and q. It had to be right! It could never be coincidence. Onto the little shelter and, yes! An unobtrusive brass ring set into the floor. So many times he'd sat there and never noticed it! GREX+EREG=PE! The magical place where, against all expectations, he'd found love. How could it not be right?