by Clara Benson
On Saturday morning Angela went down to breakfast and immediately saw that Miss Fazackerley was missing. She glanced quickly over towards the girls’ tables and to her relief saw Irina, safe and well, toying with her breakfast, pale in the face and deep in thought.
‘Where is Miss Fazackerley?’ she said to Miss Devlin.
‘She went off to catch the early train,’ said Miss Devlin. ‘Her mother is elderly and infirm, and Miss Bell allows her to spend the whole weekend away from the school every other week.’
‘Oh!’ said Angela, wondering whether Mr. Hesketh knew about it. He might have thought differently about questioning Miss Fazackerley the night before had he known she was to be absent today. Still, at least she was safely off the premises for now, and would thus be unable to admit any would-be assassins in the dead of night.
After breakfast Angela went to find Barbara, for she had promised to take her out. The Moranian Intelligence man was meant to be arriving soon, and so Angela did not suppose that she could be wanted any more.
‘There you are,’ said Barbara, linking an arm through Angela’s. ‘Have you heard about poor Irina’s father?’
‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘Has there been any news of his condition?’
‘No change,’ said Barbara. ‘They’re sending her telegrams every few hours. She might be an orphan soon, like me,’ she said cheerfully.
‘Let us hope not,’ said Angela.
‘No,’ said Barbara, more soberly. ‘I don’t feel it myself since I never knew mine, of course, but I expect it must be pretty rotten to lose one’s parents if one happens to be acquainted with them. Her mother died a few years ago, you know, and so she’s only got her father. I suppose she’ll be sorry to lose him.’
‘Besides, if her father does die then Irina will have to return to Morania, as she will inherit the throne,’ said Angela.
‘I should hate that,’ said Barbara. ‘If it were I, I’d pay someone to rule for me, and then go off and have lots of larks.’
‘I’m not sure you’d be allowed to do that,’ said Angela. ‘I rather think that sort of thing is frowned upon in those circles. I believe they require one to do at least some ruling in return for one’s royal privilege.’
‘Ugh, how horrid,’ said Barbara, then promptly forgot the subject. ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘look at the bruise on my shin. Did you see what the vile Everard female did to me with her lacrosse stick yesterday?’
‘I certainly did,’ said Angela, ‘and I agree she does seem somewhat objectionable. However, I think you would do better to stop referring to her as “the vile Everard female,” since it is hardly likely to do anything to improve relations between the two of you, and, moreover, I’m quite certain Miss Finch would not approve.’
Barbara laughed, quite unchastened, and gave Angela’s arm an affectionate squeeze, then ran off to get her hat while Angela went to speak to William. He had brought the Bentley around to the front of the building and was standing talking to his two small friends of the other evening.
‘Well?’ said Angela, once the two girls had been induced with difficulty to go away. ‘Have you managed to speak to this Edwards fellow?’
William shook his head.
‘’Fraid not, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Lord knows, I’ve tried, but every time I came anywhere near him he seemed to remember he had to be somewhere else, and hurried off.’
‘Dear me!’ said Angela. ‘That sounds rather suspicious in itself—running away every time someone tries to talk to him.’
‘Maybe he didn’t like the look of me,’ said William, who felt a little guilty at having failed in his mission.
‘Impossible,’ said Mrs. Marchmont kindly. ‘There must have been some other reason. Well, never mind—we shall go out and enjoy ourselves by the seaside today. I don’t suppose you’ve heard, but there have been developments in the case and so I doubt we’ll be wanted any more.’
‘As a matter of fact, I did hear something about it,’ he said.
‘I expect you’re going to tell me now that the servants know the whole story,’ said Angela.
‘Pretty much,’ admitted William. ‘At least, they know that the Princess is thought to be in danger.’
‘I don’t know why anybody bothers trying to keep secrets at all,’ said Angela, as Barbara ran towards them, waving her hat triumphantly. ‘Don’t say anything to Barbara, by the way, or she’ll start tearing about the countryside, looking for assassins.’
They set off along the road in the direction of the sea, heading for the little coastal town of Percham and its ancient harbour, which had long ago ceased to be a working port and was now used only by pleasure-craft and the odd fishing-boat. Although it was a sunny day, the weather had finally turned, and there was a chill in the air that was much more like October than the sticky temperatures of the past fortnight had been. The Bentley proceeded at a leisurely pace along the coast road, from where they had occasional glimpses of sand flats separated by many inlets and channels, which were dotted about with small boats. A little way out, one or two sand banks rose out of the water, and on them enormous flocks of sea-birds could be spied jostling, flapping and soaring into the sky. The air was filled with a salty tang and the views were very fine, and so the journey was a pleasant one.
Percham was only a few miles away, and they reached it in very little time. Barbara had some pocket-money to spend and knew of a particular shop which sold the sorts of things that appealed to girls of her age, and so Angela and Barbara left William with the car and went in to poke about the shop and make impossible requests of the proprietor. Having spent some time amusing themselves in this fashion, they went outside and took a stroll along the front—which was not quite as comfortable as it might have been the day before, given the change in the temperature. Still, they agreed that it was a splendid day, and bore it as long as they could until the chilly breeze forced them to seek shelter and somewhere for lunch. They decided to go to a large hotel which overlooked the harbour and had large windows through which they might enjoy the view in comfort without having to suffer the cold. After some negotiation and a polite refusal to be fobbed off with a back room, Angela and Barbara were shown into the hotel’s grand dining-room, and immediately saw that someone had got there before them.
‘Hallo, Irina,’ said Barbara. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’
It was indeed the Princess, who was sitting at a table with a man of unmistakably foreign appearance. He was tall, with hair as pale as straw, a nose that erred towards the Roman, and piercing blue eyes which turned down at the outer corners. His high cheekbones and a certain lift to the chin gave him the look of a nobleman, or perhaps an important military personage, although he was dressed in quite normal clothing.
‘Hallo, Barbara,’ said Irina without notable enthusiasm, but did not introduce the man. He, however, leapt to his feet, bowed to the two newcomers and said in clipped tones:
‘Good day. I am Raul Everich, trusted servant of His Highness the Grand Duke of Morania.’
Angela introduced herself and Barbara and tried not to look at Everich too curiously. He, however, had no such scruples, and regarded the two of them with undisguised interest.
‘I am very sorry to hear about your father, Irina,’ said Angela. ‘Have you heard anything further about his condition?’
‘Everich says he is very ill,’ said Irina dully.
‘I very much fear he is,’ said Everich. ‘It is too soon to say whether he will recover, although we can but hope. Everyone in Morania is praying for him.’
‘Have you caught the people responsible?’ said Angela.
‘Alas, the attack was sudden and unexpected,’ said Everich. ‘We were aware of a plot to assassinate His Highness and had taken steps to protect him, but this attempt came from a completely unexpected quarter. It happened while he was out riding in his own park, and we do not yet know how the assailant or assailants managed to get in, for the boundary walls are very high and impossible to climb
over.’
‘Goodness,’ said Angela. ‘That sounds rather to me as though there were a traitor on the inside.’
Everich bowed his head.
‘It pains me to doubt the loyalty of His Highness’s servants, but I fear you may be right,’ he said. ‘The Grand Duke’s cousin, Count Paul of Vorgorod, has been distraught at the whole affair, and has personally launched an investigation into the tragedy, but that is of little use after the fact. We can do nothing but watch and hope. In the meantime, His Excellency has sent me here to watch over Her Highness and ensure that she remains safe from harm. Now, Your Highness, if you are quite finished, we had better return to the school.’
The two of them left, Everich with another smart bow, and Angela and Barbara were left to order their own lunch. Angela wondered idly why the head of Moranian Intelligence had thought it a good idea to take Irina out of school when she was believed to be in such danger, but supposed that he must have taken his own precautions about which she knew nothing. At any rate, here was an expert in Moranian matters, and if anyone was in a position to spot the threat to the Princess, it was he.
TEN
That evening, Angela could not shake off the feeling that something was about to happen. Why she should feel so she did not know, for there were plenty of precautions in place. Even if the mysterious man in the barn were loitering with malicious intent, Miss Fazackerley was away at present and unable to admit him into the school. Mr. Everich was here now, and was presumably best placed to know how to protect the Princess—and even if he had not arrived so quickly, Irina was being watched at all times, and her bed had been moved to Miss Bell’s room, where she remained safely under lock and key at night. No—there was no particular reason to scent danger, and yet Angela did. Perhaps she had been unconsciously influenced by Mr. Hesketh and Henry Jameson, who had the same unexplained feeling that something was wrong. But they were experienced Intelligence men, and if they sensed trouble, then the feeling was not to be taken lightly, and so Angela was unwilling to dismiss her fears.
She decided to go and have a word with William, and wandered out into the Quad, for that was the quickest way to the building which housed the school charabanc, used to collect girls from the station, and one or two other vehicles. William was bunking in there with the deaf old driver, who had formerly been a coachman and had adapted to motorization without a murmur—indeed, some wag had pointed out that given the way he drove, he had obviously not noticed that someone had taken the horses away. As Angela passed the fountain, she saw Barbara’s friends Violet and Florrie sitting together on one of the stone benches. Violet had her head buried in a book, while Florrie was reading a letter. Angela waved, but neither of them saw her.
William was not in the coach-house, but she found him at the back of the building, rubbing an oily rag over something that looked like it might be a part from the Bentley, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He removed the cigarette at once when he saw her, but Angela was not thinking about that and glanced at the part.
‘Will it go without that?’ she said. ‘If not, I suggest you put it back in. I don’t know why, but I don’t quite like the idea of the car’s being out of action at the moment.’
‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘It won’t take a minute to With it. Are we expecting trouble, ma’am?’
‘Yes—no—I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing I can put my finger on, and I dare say nobody wants me to meddle in the thing now that the professionals presumably have everything in hand, but obviously given what’s happened in Morania, it’s of the utmost importance that the Princess be kept safe, and so I feel I ought to be on my guard.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’ said William, who was all for adventure.
‘Not at present, except be vigilant. I might need you later, but I don’t know when. You don’t mind a bit of rough stuff, do you?’
‘The more the better,’ he said enthusiastically.
‘Well, don’t get too carried away,’ she said, amused. ‘There’s danger about and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.’
William’s expression clearly indicated what he thought of that.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Edwards since you got back?’ went on Angela.
‘I’m afraid not, ma’am,’ he said.
‘I didn’t expect so,’ she said. ‘Never mind. He’s probably a perfectly respectable man who works hard to support his wife and six children, and I’m maligning him unfairly by suspecting him of evil intent. Now, don’t forget to put that part back, and be ready for trouble.’
She went off, intending to look for Mr. Hesketh. It seemed that he was looking for her too, for as soon as she entered the building she found him in the entrance-hall waiting for her, and they went back outside so as not to be overheard.
‘I see the Moranian Intelligence man has arrived,’ said Angela.
‘Oh, you’ve seen him, have you?’ said Hesketh.
‘Barbara and I bumped into him and Irina in Percham today,’ said Angela.
‘I should have preferred it had they stayed at the school,’ said Hesketh, ‘but I suppose if anyone knows the enemy, he does. He was perfectly confident that the Princess would be safe, and so I didn’t feel I could insist.’
‘By the way, did you know that Miss Fazackerley has gone away until tomorrow?’ said Angela.
‘Yes,’ said Hesketh. ‘I hope that means we have nothing to fear from her or this man you saw—at least for the moment.’
‘Then I suppose you are going to tell me that my services are no longer required,’ said Angela.
‘On the contrary,’ said Hesketh. ‘I assume this Everich fellow will want to take the Princess back to Morania in the next day or two, but in the meantime her life is still in danger, so it can’t hurt to have as many people as possible keeping an eye out—at least for as long as we are responsible for her.’
‘Poor Irina,’ said Angela. ‘She must be desperate to go home and see her father. What an awful burden to have to bear at fifteen.’
‘Yes,’ said Hesketh. ‘Still, she seems mature for her years and may be able to put up with it better than other girls of her age.’
He then took his leave, and Angela was left standing deep in thought until roused by Barbara, who was looking for Florrie. Angela sent her off to the Quad, then shook herself and went to the staff common-room, there to spend a very dull evening listening to Miss Devlin’s plans for coaching the hockey team and winning some inter-school championship or other. The Games mistress’s soft tones had a remarkably soporific effect, and after an hour or so Angela was able to say with truth that she was feeling quite sleepy, and escape to her room without fear of seeming rude. There she undressed and got into bed, and after a few futile minutes trying to read, turned off the lamp and went to sleep.
She awoke with a start some time later, and lay for a moment, her heart thumping. What was it that had awoken her? A noise, perhaps? Angela listened for a minute, but could hear nothing. She fumbled for her watch, which lay on the little table by her bed, and was just able to see that it was twenty minutes past two. She was wide awake now and knew she would be unable to get back to sleep, so after a moment’s reflection she got out of bed and dressed quickly. She was just about to leave the room when she suddenly remembered something, and turned back to take her little revolver out of a drawer. She slipped it into her pocket then went to the door, opened it cautiously and listened. Outside in the passage she could hear nothing. To her right were the stairs, which led to a downstairs corridor, from where it was a quick run past the staff common-room and through to the rear atrium and the back door. To her left was Miss Bell’s room, and a little way past that Miss Devlin’s room. Angela knew that Mr. Hesketh was sleeping in one of the guest-rooms at the very end of the passage. Might it have been he she had heard?
Just then, to her right, she heard the unmistakable sound of a stair creaking. It was not very loud, but it sounded almost deafening in the dark
ness. Angela felt her heart jump into her throat. She paused to catch her breath—and, it must be admitted, to summon up her courage and resist the urge to run back into her room—then took her revolver out of her pocket and crept along to the stairs as quietly as she could. The moon was shining in through a large, arched window opposite the head of the staircase, and rather than step into the full view of anyone who happened to cast a glance backwards, Angela stopped to one side and poked her head around carefully. There was nothing—only empty gloom. After a short flight, the stairs paused at a little landing and then turned to the right and continued out of view, and as Angela listened she was certain she could hear the sound of someone creeping quietly downstairs further ahead.
Feeling the comforting shape of the gun under her hand, Angela took a deep breath, entered the dark mouth of the staircase and began to descend, keeping to the edges in an attempt to avoid the creaky step. At the little landing she paused and peered around the corner. The next flight was longer and led down into absolute blackness. Angela quailed for a second—but only a second. She drew herself up.
‘Now, we’ll have none of this,’ she told herself firmly. ‘What sort of a detective are you if you can’t even walk down a flight of stairs without going into a blue funk? Why, you might as well go and confess to Mr. Hesketh this minute that you’re a useless coward.’
Having fortified herself in this manner, she listened for a moment and then set forth down the next flight. She reached the bottom without incident and paused, straining to see. Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the increased darkness, and she could make out the outline of the door to the staff common-room, which was opposite. She tried the handle carefully but it was locked. Whoever it was must then have gone through the door at the end of the corridor and into the rear atrium. Angela followed, and swiftly discovered that her mysterious quarry had left the door slightly ajar. Warily she opened it and was immediately almost blinded by the moonlight which flooded into the atrium through the large windows. In an instant she saw that the back door was open, and ran towards it. Outside all was quiet, and she stood, gazing out across the lawns, which glowed pale under the moon, but could see nobody. Whoever it was might have gone in any direction—might even be hiding behind a bush or a tree. It was useless to try and search the grounds by herself. She would go and fetch Mr. Hesketh immediately. Perhaps he would know what to do.