Ngaio Marsh - Spinsters in Jeopardy

“I take it,” Alleyn said, “that you withdraw your objection?”

“Yes, Monsieur. Not without misgivings because Teresa is dear to me and, say what you like, it is no place for one’s girl.”

“Judging by the lacerations in Georges Mattel’s face, Teresa is able to defend herself on occasion.”

“True,” Raoul agreed, cheering up. “She has enterprise.”

“Suppose we talk to her about it?”

“I will produce her.”

Raoul went out to the kitchen.

“Hallo, you two,” Alleyn said.

“Hallo, yourself,” Troy said.

“Daddy, this is a lavish book. I can read it better than Mummy.”

“Don’t buck,” Alleyn said automatically.

“Have you sent Raoul to get that nanny-person? Teresa?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We’ve got a job for her.”

“ Not minding me?”

“No, no. Nothing to do with you, old boy.”

“Well, good, anyway,” said Ricky returning to his book.

Raoul came back with Teresa, who now wore an apron and seemed to be in remarkably high spirits. On Alleyn’s invitation she sat down using, however, the very edge of her chair. Alleyn told her briefly what he wanted her to do. Raoul folded his arms and scowled thoughtfully at the tablecloth.

“You see, Teresa,” Alleyn said, “these are bad men and also unfortunately extremely clever men. They think they’ve made a fool of you as they have of a great many other silly girls. The thing is — are you ready to help Raoul and me and the police of your own country to put a stop to their wickedness?”

“Ah, yes, Monsieur,” said Teresa cheerfully. “I now perceive my duty and with the help of Raoul and the holy saints, dedicate myself to the cause.”

“Good. Do you think you can keep your head and behave sensibly and with address if an emergency should arise?”

Teresa gazed at him and said that she thought she could.

“Very well. Now, tell me: were you on duty last evening?”

“Yes, Monsieur. During the dinner I helped the housemaids go round the bedrooms and then I worked in the kitchen.”

“Was there a party?”

“A party? Well, Monsieur, there was the new guest, Mlle. Wells, who is an actress. And after dinner there was a gathering of all the guests in the private apartments of M. Oberon. I know this because I heard the butler say that Monsieur wished it made ready for a special welcome for Mlle. Wells. And this morning,” said Teresa, looking prim, “Jeanne Barre, who is an under-housemaid, said that Mlle. Locke, the English noblewoman, must have taken too much wine because her door was locked with a notice not to disturb and this is always a sign she has been indiscreet.”

“I see. Tell me, Teresa: have you ever seen into the room that is only opened on Thursday night?”

“Yes, Monsieur. On Thursday morning I dust this room and on Fridays it is my duty to clean it.”

“Where is it exactly?”

“It is down the stairs, three flights, from the vestibule, and beneath the library. It is next to the private apartments of M. Oberon.”

“Has it many windows?”

“It has no windows, Monsieur. It is in a very old part of the Château.”

“And M. Oberon’s rooms?”

“Oh, yes, Monsieur. The salon has a window which is covered always by a white blind with a painting of the sun because Monsieur dislikes a brilliant light, so it is always closed. But Monsieur has nevertheless a great lamp fashioned like the sun and many strange ornaments and a strange wheel which Monsieur treasures and a magnificent bed and in the salon a rich divan,” said Teresa, warming to her subject, “and an enormous mirror where—” There she stopped short and blushed.

“Continue,” Raoul ordered, with a face of thunder.

“Where once when I took in petit déjeuner I saw Monsieur contemplating himself in a state of nature.”

Alleyn, with an eye on Raoul, said hurriedly, “Will you describe the room that you clean?”

Raoul reached across the table and moved his forefinger to and fro in front of his beloved’s nose. “Choose your words, my treasure,” he urged. “Invent nothing. Accuracy is all.”

“Yes, indeed it is,” said Alleyn heartily.

Thus warned, Teresa looked self-consciously at her folded hands and with a slightly sanctimonious air began her recital.

“If you please, Monsieur, it is a large room and at first I thought perhaps it was a chapel.”

“ A chapel ?” Alleyn exclaimed. Raoul made a composite noise suggestive of angry incredulity.

“Yes, Monsieur. I thought perhaps it was reserved for the private devotions of M. Oberon and his friends. Because at one side is a raised place with a table like the holy altar, covered in a cloth which is woven in a rich pattern with gold and silver and jewels. But although one saw the holy cross, there were other things in the pattern that one does not see in altar cloths.”

“The hoof prints of anathema!” Raoul ejaculated.

“Go on, Teresa,” said Alleyn.

“And on the table there was something that was also covered with an embroidered cloth.”

“What was that, do you suppose?”

Teresa’s white eyelids were raised. She gave Alleyn the glance of a cunning child.

“Monsieur must not think badly of me if I tell him I raised the cloth and looked. Because I wanted to see if it was a holy relic.”

“And was it?”

“No, Monsieur. At first I thought it was a big monstrance made of glass. Only it was not a monstrance although in shape it resembled a great sun and inside the sun a holy cross broken and a figure like this.”

With a sort of disgusted incredulity Alleyn watched her trace with her finger on the table, a pentagram. Raoul groaned heavily.

“And it was, as I saw when I looked more closely, Monsieur, a great lamp because there were many, many electric bulbs behind it and behind the sun at the back Was a bigger electric bulb than I have ever seen before. So I dropped the heavy cloth over it and wondered.”

“What else did you see?”

“There was nothing else in the room, Monsieur. No chairs or any furniture or anything. The walls were covered with black velvet and there were no pictures.”

“Any doors, other than the one leading from Mr. Oberon’s room?”

“Yes, Monsieur. There was a door in the wall opposite the table. I didn’t notice it the first time I cleaned the room because it is covered like the walls and had no handle. But the second time it was open and I was told to clean the little room beyond.”

“What was it like, this room?”

“On the floor there were many black velvet cushions and one large one like the mattress for a divan. And the walls here also were covered in black velvet and there was a black velvet curtain behind which were hanging a great number of white robes such as the robe Monsieur wears and one black velvet robe. And on the table there were many candles in black candlesticks which I had to clean. There was also a door from the passage into this little room.”

“Nastier and nastier,” Alleyn muttered in English.

“I beg Monsieur’s pardon?”

“Nothing. And this was the only other door into the big room?”

“No, Monsieur, there was another, very small like a trapdoor behind the table, painted with signs like the signs on the sunlamp and on the floor.”

“There were signs on the floor?”

“Yes, Monsieur. I had been told to clean the floor, Monsieur. It is a beautiful floor with a pattern made of many pieces of stone and the pattern is the same as the other.” Her finger traced the pentagram again. “And when I came to clean it, Monsieur, I knew the room was not a chapel.”

“Why?”

“Because the floor in front of the table was as dirty as a farmyard,” said Teresa. “It was like our yard at my home in the Paysdoux. There had been an animal in the room.”