Ngaio Marsh - Death And The Dancing Footman

“Are you all right? Kick. Kick out. You’re coming this way.”

“But this is my cloak.”

“Kick, Aubrey, kick.”

He kicked and, after an aeon of time, floated into the view of five faces, upside down with their mouths open. His head struck against hardness.

“The rail. There’s a rail here. Get hold of it.”

“You’re all right, now. Here!”

He was drawn up. His arms scraped against stone. He was lying on the edge of the pool clasping an inflated India-rubber bird to his bosom. He was turned so that his face hung over the edge of the pond. His jaws had developed an independent life of their own and his teeth chattered like castanets. His skin, too, leapt and jerked over the surface of his frozen muscles. When he tried to speak he made strange ugly noises. Acrid water trickled from his nostrils over his lips and chin.

“How the devil did it happen?” somebody — William — was asking.

“The edge is horribly slippery,” said Chloris Wynne. “I nearly fell in myself.”

“I didn’t fall,” Mandrake mouthed out with great difficulty. “I was pushed.” Nicholas Compline burst into a shout of laughter and Mandrake wondered dimly if he could make a quick grab at his ankle and overturn him into the pool. It was borne in on Mandrake that Nicholas was wearing bathing drawers under his cape.

“Did he fall or was he pushed?” shouted Nicholas.

“Shut up, Nicholas.” That was Chloris Wynne.

“My dear fellow,” Jonathan made a series of little dabs at Mandrake, “you must come up at once. My coat. Take my coat. Ah, yours too, William, that’s better. Help him up, now. A hot toddy and a blazing fire, eh Hart? There never was anything more unfortunate. Come now.”

Mandrake was suddenly torn by a violent retching. “Disgusting,” he thought, “ disgusting !”

“That will be better,” said a voice. Dr. Hart’s! “We should get him up quickly. Can you walk, Mr. Mandrake?”

“Yes.”

“Your arm across my shoulders. So. Come, now.”

“I’ll just get into my clothes,” said Nicholas.

“Perhaps, Mr. Compline, as you are in bathing dress, you will be good enough to retrieve my cape.”

“Sorry, I can’t swim.”

“We’ll fish it out somehow,” said Chloris. “Take Mr. Mandrake in.”

Jonathan, William and Dr. Hart took him back. Over the embankment, up the terrace steps, through a mess of footprints left by the others. The heavy boot on his club-foot dragged and hit against snow and sodden turf. Halfway up he was sick again. Jonathan ran ahead and, when at last they reached the house, could be heard shouting out orders to the servants. “Hot-water bottles. All you can find. His bath— quickly. Brandy, Caper. The fire in his room. What are you doing, all of you! God bless my soul, Mrs. Pouting, here’s Mr. Mandrake, half-drowned.”

If only his teeth would stop chattering he would enjoy being in bed, watching flames mount in the fireplace, feeling the toddy set up a little system of warmth inside him. The hot bath had thawed his body, the hot bottles lay snug against his legs. Jonathan again held the glass to his lips.

“What happened?” asked Mandrake.

“After you fell, you mean? Nick looked out from the window of his dressing-room. He saw you and ran out. He can’t swim, you know, but he snatched up the inflated pelican — there are several in the pavilion — and threw it into the pool. By that time I fancy William and Hart were there. They arrived before Miss Wynne and myself. It appears that William had stripped off his overcoat and was going after you when you seized the improvised lifebuoy. When we arrived your arms were wreathed about its neck and you were fighting your way to the side. My dear Aubrey, I can’t tell you how distressed I am. Another sip, now, do.”

“Jonathan, somebody came behind me and thrust me forward.”

“But, my dear fellow—”

“I tell you they did. I can still feel the impact of their hands. I did not slip. Good God, Jonathan, I’m not romancing! I tell you I was deliberately thrown into that water.”

“Nicholas saw nobody,” said Jonathan uncomfortably. He primmed his lips and gave a little cough.

“When did he look out?” Mandrake said. “I know he saw me when I first got there. But afterwards?”

“Well — the first thing he saw was your cape — Dr. Hart’s cape, unhappily — on the surface of the water.”

“Exactly. Whoever pushed me in had by that time hidden himself. He had only to dodge over the embankment and duck down.”

“But we should have seen him,” said Jonathan.

“Hart and William Compline were already there when you arrived?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did they go down together to the pond?”

“I — no, I think not. Hart left by the front door and came by the other path, past the pavilion. William came by the west door.‘’

“Which of them arrived first? Thank God I’ve stopped chattering.”

“I don’t know. I persuaded Hart to go out. I managed to calm him down after that most unfortunate passage with Nicholas at breakfast. I don’t quite know how I managed it, but I did. I suggested he should go out for a — for a sort of breather, do you know — and I suppose he followed the path to the pavilion and was arrested by Nicholas’ shout for help. I myself heard Nicholas as I went to the west door. I overtook Miss Wynne, who was already on the terrace. When I reached the edge of the terrace, Hart and the two Complines were all by the pond. My dear Aubrey, I shall tire you if I go on at this rate. Finish your drink and try to go to sleep.”

“I don’t in the least want to go to sleep, Jonathan. Somebody has just tried to drown me and I do not find the experience conducive to slumber.”

“No?” murmured Jonathan unhappily.

“No. And don’t, I implore you, look as though I was mentally unhinged.”

“Well, you have had a shock. You may even have a slight fever. I don’t want to alarm you—”

“If you try to fob me off, I shall certainly run a frightful temperature. At the moment I assure you I am perfectly normal, and I tell you, Jonathan, somebody tried to drown me in your loathsome pond. I confess I should like to know who it was.”

“A thoughtless piece of foolery, perhaps,” mumbled Jonathan. Mandrake suddenly pointed a trembling finger at the mound in the bed-clothes made by his left foot.

“Does anyone but a moron play that sort of prank on a cripple?” he asked savagely.

“Oh, my dear fellow, I know, but—”

“Madame Lisse!” Mandrake cried. “She was to watch from her window. She must have seen.”

“You can’t see that end of the pool from her window,” said Jonathan, quickly. “It’s hidden by the yew tree on the terrace.”

“How do you know?”

“I do know. Yesterday, when I did her flowers, I noticed. I assure you.”

Mandrake looked at him. “Then whoever did it,” he said, “must have also known that she could not see him. Or else—”

There was a tap on the door.

“Come in,” cried Jonathan in a loud voice. “Come in.”

It was Nicholas Compline. “Look here,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind my butting in. I had to see Jonathan. Are you all right?”

“Thanks to you,” said Mandrake, “I believe I am.”

“Look here, I’m damn’ sorry I laughed.”

“It was infuriating, but I can’t quarrel with you. As we say in the provinces, you quite literally gave me the bird. Not the first time I have been so honoured, but certainly the first time I have welcomed it with both arms.”

“Jonathan,” said Nicholas, “you realize the significance of this business?”

“The significance, Nick?”