Ngaio Marsh - Spinsters in Jeopardy

“An animal!” Raoul ejaculated. “I believe you! And what sort of animal?”

“That was easy to see,” said Teresa simply. “It was a goat.”

iii

Alleyn decided finally that the following evening he and Raoul would call at the Chèvre d’Argent. He would arrive after the hour of six when, according to Teresa, the entire household would have retired for something known as private meditation, but which was supposed by Teresa to be a sound sleep. It was unusual at this time for anyone to appear, and indeed again, according to Teresa, a rule of silence and solitude was imposed from six until nine by Mr. Oberon. On Thursdays there was no dinner, but Teresa understood that there was a very late supper at which the guests were served by the Egyptian servant only. Teresa herself was dismissed with the other servants as soon as their late afternoon and early evening tasks were executed. If they didn’t encounter any member of the household on their way through the tunnel Alleyn and Raoul were to go past the main entrance and down a flight of steps to a little-used door through which Teresa would admit them. No attention would be paid to Raoul if he was seen by any other servants who might still be about, and if Alleyn kept in the background it might be possible to suggest that he was a relative from Marseilles. “A distinguished relative,” Raoul amended, “seeing that in appearance and in speech Monsieur is clearly of a superior class.”

Teresa would then conceal Alleyn and Raoul in her own room where, with any luck, she would have already secreted two of the white robes. She was pretty certain there were many more in the little ante-room than would be needed by M. Oberon’s guests. It would be tolerably easy when she cleaned this room to remove them under cover of the laundry it was her duty to collect from the bedrooms.

“Is it not as I have said, Monsieur?” Raoul remarked, indicated his fiancée. “She is not without enterprise, is Teresa?” Teresa looked modestly at Alleyn and passionately at Raoul.

If all went well, up to this point, Teresa would have done as much as could be expected of her. She would take her departure as usual and could either wait in Raoul’s car or catch the evening bus to her home in Paysdoux. It should be possible for Alleyn and Raoul to pass through the house without attracting attention. The cowls of their robes would be drawn over their heads and it might be supposed if they were seen that they were belated guests or even early arrivals for the ceremony. Teresa had heard that occasionally there were extra people on Thursday nights, people staying in Roqueville or in St. Christophe.

And then? “Then,” Alleyn said, “it will be up to us, Raoul.”

The alternative to this plan was tricky. If he was spotted on his way into the Chèvre d’Argent, Alleyn would put a bold face on it and say that he had come to see Miss Truebody. No doubt Baradi would be summoned from his private meditation and Alleyn would have to act upon the situations as they arose. Raoul would still call on Teresa and hide in her room.

“All right,” Alleyn said. “That’s as far as we need go. Now Teresa, this evening you will return to the Château and Mr. Oberon will no doubt question you about today’s proceedings. You will tell him exactly what happened at the factory, up to and after the identification parade. You will tell him that Ricky identified you. Then, you will say, the police made you come back to Roqueville and asked you many questions, accusing you of complicity in the former kidnapping affair and asking who were your colleagues in that business. You will say that you told the police you know nothing: that Georges Martel offered you a little money to fetch the boy and beyond that you know nothing at all. This is important, Teresa. Repeat it, please.”

Teresa folded her hands and repeated it, prompted without necessity by Raoul.

“Excellent,” Alleyn said. “And you will, of course, have had no conversation with me. Perhaps it will be well to say, if you are asked, that you returned to Roqueville in Raoul’s car. You may have been seen doing so. But you will say that Madame and I were so overjoyed on recovering our son that we had nothing to say except that no doubt the police would deal with you.”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

“Have courage, my little one,” Raoul admonished her. “Lie no more than is necessary, you understand, but when you do lie, lie like a brigand. It is in the cause of the angels.”

“Upon whose protection and of that of Our Lady of Paysdoux,” Teresa neatly interpolated, “I hurl myself.”

“Do so.”

Teresa rose and made a convent-child’s bob. Raoul also asked to be excused. As they went together to the door, Alleyn said: “By the way, did you hear tomorrow’s weather forecast for the district?”

“Yes, Monsieur. It is for thunderstorms. There are electrical disturbances.”

“Indeed? How very apropos. Thank you, Raoul.”

“Monsieur,” said Raoul obligingly and withdrew his beloved into the inner room.

Alleyn rejoined his family. “Did you get much of that?” he asked.

“I’ve reached exhaustion point for French,” Troy said. “I can’t even try to listen. And Ricky, as you see, is otherwise engaged.”

Ricky looked up from a brilliant picture of two knights engaged in single combat. “I bet there’ll be a wallop when they crash,” he said. “Whang! I daresay I’d be able to read this pretty soon if we stayed here. I can read a bit, can’t I, Mummy?”

“English, you can.”

“I know. So don’t you daresay I could, French, Daddy?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you. Did you know what we were talking about, just now?”

“I wasn’t listening much.” Ricky lowered his voice to a polite whisper. “If it isn’t a rude question,” he said, “when’s dinner?”

“Soon. Pipe down, now. I want to talk to Mummy.”

“O.K. What are you going to do in Teresa’s bedroom tomorrow night, Daddy?”

“I must say I should like to be associated with that enquiry,” said Troy warmly.

“I am changing there for a party.”

“Who’s having a party?” Ricky demanded.

“A silver goat. I rather think he lights himself up.”

The door opened. Teresa came in with a tray.

iv

The dinner was superb, the filets mignons particularly being inspired. When it was finished the Alleyns invited the M ilanos to join them for fines and M. Milano produced a bottle of distinguished cognac. The atmosphere was gay and comme il faut . Presently the regular clientele of the house began to come in: quiet middle-class people who greeted Madame Milano and took down their own table-napkins from hooks above their special places. A game of draughts was begun at the corner table. Troy, who had enjoyed herself enormously but was in a trance of fatigue, said she thought that they should go. Elaborate leave-takings were begun. Ricky, full of vegetables and rich gravy and sticky with grenadine, yawned happily and bestowed a smile of enchanting sweetness upon Madame Milano.

“ Mille remerciements, chère Madame, ” he said, stumbling a little over the long word, “ de mon beau repas, ”and held out his hand. Madame made a complicated, motherly, bustling movement and ejaculated, “ Ah, mon Dieu, quel amour d’enfant !” There followed a great shaking of hands and interchange of compliments and the Alleyns took their departure on the crest of the wave.

Raoul drove them back to their hotel where, regrettably, a great fuss was again made over Ricky, who began to show infantile signs of vainglory and struck an attitude before M. Malaquin, the proprietor, shouting: “Kidnappers! Huh! Easy!” and was applauded by the hall porter.