She Fell Among Thieves (6 page)

‘But, mother,’ protested Virginia, ‘you know you won’t let us dance here.’

‘You shall dance after dinner, my dear – with Mr Chandos. Gaston’s interpretation of the art is rather too simian for me. I know that we’re lower than the angels, but why illustrate that truth?’

‘I’m very bad,’ I said nervously.

‘You would be,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘But not to the pipes of Pan. You danced up the valley today. I saw the spring in your step and the lift of your head.’ She returned to Virginia. ‘I’m not suggesting that the leopard should change his spots: but so long as you’re under my roof, you must behave as my daughter and not as his wife. The servants have to be considered. Once you’re married, you’ll probably live elsewhere. Gaston might find me exacting, as a resident mother-in-law.’

With a very crooked smile, Gaston expelled a noise which I took to be one of dissent.

‘I cannot interpret that sound,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘Did it mean that you enjoy my society?’

‘Of course,’ said Gaston.

‘I’m glad to hear it. I tell you frankly I take great pleasure in yours. You importune me for trouble – to my delight. When anyone asks me for trouble, I’ll feed him until he bursts.’ She turned upon me. ‘Digest that, Richard Chandos. It may provoke your stomach, but it’ll do you good.’

The meal proceeded.

Glancing at Father Below, I observed with relief that the comfort of apples seemed to have had its way. He was eating with evident relish and, whilst he now and then sighed, he stayed himself with champagne. Here was no subject for pity. I could see him at some station-hotel… His mistress knew best. As for her, her reduction of the obstinate fortress had whisked her ill-humour away.

My mind flew suddenly to Julie. I found it indecent that we should be feasting while she lay stark in the chapel within our gates. By rights we should have been fasting. But the tragedy had made no difference to life at Jezreel.

The place seemed suddenly sinister. The breath of the Middle Ages tainted the air… Death was dressed in splendour, and Evil was royally lodged.

Gaston and Acorn were arguing.

‘I know you are wrong,’ said Gaston.

‘Have a care,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘My secretary is paid to be right.’

‘I do not care,’ said Gaston. ‘I say he is wrong.’

‘It’s some time ago,’ said Acorn, ‘but I was at New Orleans when the news came in.’

‘What news?’ said Vanity Fair.

‘That the
Clair de Lune
had been holed on her maiden voyage.’

‘No, no,’ cried Gaston. ‘It was the
Pompadour
.’

The man was right. I knew it. Old friends of mine, the Cheviots, had barely escaped with their lives when the
Pompadour
was holed on her maiden voyage.

Before I could put in an oar –

‘Well, what on earth does it matter?’ said Vanity Fair.

‘But he says I am wrong,’ cried Gaston.

‘I’ve no doubt you are. What of that?’

‘I am not wrong,’ screamed Gaston. ‘I–’

‘That,’ said Vanity Fair, ‘is extremely easy to say.’

‘But I was on board,’ raved Gaston, and struck the oak with his hand.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Then –

‘Indeed,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘How very disagreeable for the other passengers.’ She turned to Virginia. ‘Do they throw people out at Moineau? Or can you behave as you please?’

Her daughter set her head on one side.

‘I shouldn’t risk it, mother: you’re very well here.’

To my surprise and relief, Vanity Fair sat back and laughed till she cried.

I confess my respect leaped up. She knew how to lose.

After dinner I danced with Virginia, against my will. This on the terrace, to music most beautifully played and the light of the moon. Vanity Fair applauded the exhibition and made us perform until I was ready to drop. When Gaston sought to withdraw, she called him back and made him sit by her side.

And Julie lay dead.

Mansel let me talk for a quarter of an hour. Then he lay back in his chair and crossed his legs.

‘With Vanity Fair,’ he said, ‘you never know. That is her ace of trumps. She’s put her arms about you today. But I wouldn’t swear that you’re not to be murdered tonight. That you’re to be visited I’m certain. That’s really why I’m here. I think you’re to be half-killed. I can hardly believe that she would dare bump you off.’

‘Well, I don’t care,’ said I. ‘You and I know how much I value my life. But, you know, this woman’s wearing. She’s as good as a raree-show: but she ought to be under glass.’

‘That’s perfectly true,’ said Mansel. ‘What I’ve gone through since you came, I cannot describe. To be weighed by Vanity Fair is to be found wanting – and accordingly weighed again.’

‘And your duties,’ said I. ‘What are you here to detect?’

Mansel sighed.

‘Vanity Fair sometimes behaves as a child. I am here to watch de Rachel and pick up what gossip I can in the servants’ hall. There’s very little gossip – the servants are too much afraid of losing their jobs. She pays them four times as much as they’d get elsewhere; but if one of them puts a foot wrong, he’s fired that night. I except friend Jean – as lazy a rogue as you’d meet in a summer’s day. But Vanity Fair has his measure: she’s using him. As for the sweet-smelling Gaston, anyone can see what he is – a French Count ten times removed from the cousin whose title he bears. I suppose he’s a right to bear it. I’m told that, except for him, the family’s faded out.’

‘Well, there,’ said I, ‘there’s a chance that Titus Cheviot can help,’ and, with that, I told him about the
Pompadour
.

‘Good,’ said Mansel. ‘Drop a line to Titus and tell him to write to Anise. That was five or six years ago. De Rachel left France then and he’s not got a bean: and he sticks what he does for the money Virginia will bring.’

‘By God, he earns it,’ said I.

‘Serve him right,’ said Mansel. ‘But why does Virginia want him? Answer me that. She’s not too bad, Virginia. But she doesn’t seem to be acting under duress.’

‘I’m sure she dislikes him,’ said I. ‘Why, my face is straighter than hers while her mother is twisting his tail.’

‘I’d love to hear it,’ said Mansel. ‘Never mind. What else did you pick up in that wonderful dining-room?’

I told him how Vanity Fair had whipped Father Below.

‘That,’ said Mansel, ‘is what I wanted to hear. She requires Below for the marriage. For some reason best known to herself, the date’s not fixed. But he’s got to be here on tap, ready to tie the knot at a nod from her. A
locum tenens
might boggle at rushing the business through. But Below will do as he’s told – as you saw tonight. That letter he got was written at my request.’ He threw back his head and covered his eyes with his hands. ‘You know I’m more confused than when I began. I’ve confirmed an idea or two, but they’re in my lady’s favour. For one thing, I’m pretty sure that this marriage is going to go through.’

‘And Julie?’ said I.

‘Ah,’ said Mansel. ‘And Julie. That’s a bad show. And there’s another riddle. What on earth can Julie have done?’

‘She was killed, of course.’

‘I think that Julie was smothered, and then thrown out. There were certain signs in her face. I imagine your wallah did it – the wallah you saw in the fields. I don’t think he’s gone: I think he’s up in the tower. And he, no doubt, is the fellow who’s coming to see you tonight.’ I glanced at the looking-glass. ‘You needn’t worry. As long as he sees your light burning, he won’t come down.’

‘But what’s the idea?’ said I. ‘To put me out of action?’

‘To frighten you off,’ said Mansel. ‘Not out of Jezreel, for she likes your company. But off the holy ground of her private affairs.

‘Supposing you wake in the night, to find your throat in the grip of a monster you cannot see. You’re being choked to death, and you can’t as much as cry out. You put up a fight, of course, but what can you do? At last you lose consciousness, and when you come to, you’re alone… The next morning you tell your tale. Vanity Fair expresses the utmost concern, declares she can’t understand it. “It looks, Mr Chandos, as though you’d offended some god – spied on his private rites, or something like that…” And while she speaks, she’s mocking you with those eyes. Pure speculation, of course. But I think I’m right.

‘Anyway, you’ve done very well, and you’ll soon be free. Tomorrow night the Rolls will be ready for the road: and the day after that you’re going. She’ll try to keep you all right, but you mustn’t stay, for only your going away will convince her that you are no spy. Once you’re gone, she’ll miss you – Jezreel is dull – and she’ll do her very utmost to get you back. And back you will come, my lad, in the fullness of time. You’ll tell her you’re going to Biarritz, and thence to Spain.’

‘Where in fact am I going?’

‘I’m not quite sure,’ said Mansel, and got to his feet. ‘I’ll send you your orders in writing tomorrow night. And now you must go to bed. Time’s getting on, and I’ve got to be up at six.’

My lights had been put out for nearly an hour and, though I was wide awake and straining my ears, I lay with my eyes close shut, as though I were fast asleep.

Beside the curtains that graced the head of my bed Mansel, I knew, was standing as still as death.

I never heard the man enter: I never heard him approach.

The first thing I heard was the smack of Mansel’s fist, as he hit someone under the jaw.

In a flash I was out of bed, to find Mansel down on his knees, with his hand on his victim’s heart.

‘I had to hit hard,’ he breathed, ‘but he seems all right. He won’t come round for some time.’

(Here I should say that Mansel was a beautiful boxer, and, as such, had been famous before he had left his school.)

‘Where’s your torch?’ I whispered. ‘I don’t believe it’s my man.’

‘I know it isn’t,’ said Mansel. ‘It’s a colleague of mine,
called Jean
.’

With that, he drew his torch and lighted the fellow’s face.

There was no doubt about it. There were the bull-dog features of the chauffeur who, six hours before, had poured my beer.

Mansel sat back on his heels and fingered his chin.

‘I might have known,’ he murmured. ‘William, my boy, we’ve done a good night’s work. This is going to be very awkward for Vanity Fair.’

Twenty minutes later Mansel was gone and I was again in my bed, and Jean, who was still unconscious, was lying on the tiles of my bathroom, his ankles lashed with his belt and his wrists with mine. The weapon which he had been wearing was back in his sleeve.

It was a curious weapon, carefully sheathed and plainly many years old. There is, I believe, one like it in a private collection in Rome. It was not a lethal weapon. The mark it would have made on the skin would scarce have been seen. It was, however, hollow.

How much liquid this ‘syringe’ contained I do not know, but the drop which Mansel extracted and placed in a phial was found to be more than sufficient to cause immediate death.

‘It’s a matter for you, Mr Chandos.’

‘The Star Chamber’ was cool and dim, for its shutters were shut. Vanity Fair’s manner went with the room. Cool, reserved, entirely at my disposal, she might have been my banker – some very giant of finance that, because I was his client, was awaiting my puny instructions to sell or retain some shares.

I crossed my legs and laughed.

‘I don’t care,’ I said. ‘So far as I am concerned, my score was settled last night. I’ll bet he’s got a headache just now that he’d sell for what it’d fetch.’

‘Headache?’ said Vanity Fair. She drew in her breath. ‘He’d have something more than a headache if I had my way.’

Of this I was sure. Vanity Fair had no use for servants that failed.

‘What does Acorn think?’ said I.

‘I don’t think he knows what he thinks. As usual, he offers me bread, and gives me a stone. I said the man should be jailed, and he quite agreed. “Then have him jailed,” said I. “That’s all very well,” said Acorn, “but what’s he done?” Since I couldn’t answer the question, I sent for you. After all, you’ll have to charge him.’

‘Well, he hasn’t done anything,’ said I. ‘He didn’t have time.’

‘What d’you think he was going to do?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said I.

Vanity Fair frowned.

‘In a way, you know, it’s a pity you struck so soon. He was bent on mischief, of course, or he would have knocked at the door. Why did you strike so soon? Wouldn’t it have been more normal to challenge him first?’

‘His movement was furtive,’ said I, ‘and that was enough for me.’

Vanity Fair nodded.

‘Quite right,’ she said. ‘Never wait. Well, what’s to be done? Acorn is waiting on you. Say the word and he’s going to ring up the police.’

I shook my head.

‘Don’t do it for me,’ said I.

‘We can do it for nobody else. Unless you’re prepared to charge him, it’s no good our calling the police.’

I admit the cards were good, but she played them uncommonly well.

‘Let the fellow go,’ said I, and got to my feet.

‘Wait a minute.’

She moved to a table to pick up a telephone.

After a moment’s pause –

‘Mr Chandos declines to charge him. Pay him his wages and let him be ready to leave at a quarter to twelve. On foot, of course. I’ll see the man in the guard-room at twelve o’clock.’

The guard-room lay in the tower that belonged to her suite.

As she replaced her receiver –

‘Please rest assured that Jean will never forget this unpleasant affair. I shall see to that. I trust that you’ll come to forget it, and please begin by putting it out of your mind. Ask Virginia to show you those lanterns. You can’t think of anything else when you’re looking at them.’

Before seeking Virginia, I went to look at the Rolls.

As I made my way to the garage, I considered again the nature of Vanity Fair. Yesterday she had done me honour: last night she had sought my life – in the vilest of ways. And yet I was sure that she liked me… Some would have found her mad. But she was not mad. She was as level-headed as Mansel himself. She was not even inconsistent. Her will of iron was her god, and she was its prophetess. To her will all things were subject: the faintest attempt to thwart it had to be crushed. These things were not out of reason. What was out of reason was that I still liked her.

I entered a mighty coach-house and walked to the Rolls.

‘She’ll be ready tonight, sir,’ said Mansel. ‘I expect your servant told you there’s nothing wrong.’

‘All that labour for nothing,’ said I.

‘It had to be done, sir,’ said Mansel. ‘There’s your wing. I’m afraid it won’t look very smart.’

‘They’ve been very quick,’ said I.

‘They have indeed, sir,’ said Mansel. ‘But they want to keep our custom, and that’s why they did it at once.’

I turned to see Virginia.

‘And what,’ said she, ‘are you doing this afternoon?’

‘What you suggest?’ said I.

‘Have you seen St Albert de Moulin?’

I shook my head.

‘Well, you must see that. It’s a city – not quite as big as Jezreel. Let Gaston drive us over. It’s only forty miles off.’

‘With pleasure,’ said I. ‘And this morning you’ll show me the lanterns that came from Prague.’

‘I’ll show you them now. One moment. Can we have the coupé, Wright, at a quarter to three?’

‘Certainly, miss,’ said Mansel. ‘Will you take a man in the dickey?’

‘No, thanks. We’ll take her alone.’

‘Very good, miss.’

As we left the coach-house –

‘I do like that man,’ said Virginia. ‘I hope mother keeps him on.’

The lanterns hung in a suite on the second floor. To reach this, we had to go by the rooms in which Gaston was lodged. As we were passing these, I heard a girl’s agonised cry.

‘Let me go, sir, I beg and pray you. Oh, let me go.’

There was only one thing to be done.

‘You go on,’ I said. ‘I’ll join you.’

Virginia inclined her head and held on her way.

I opened de Rachel’s door…

The fellow had a girl by the wrists – a housemaid, a nice-looking girl. She was straining away from her captor, whose face was wreathed in a grin.

When he saw me, he let her go, and she made her escape.

I shut the door behind her and turned to see the gallant more white in the face than red.

He was swallowing violently.

‘What then?’ he said thickly, and breathed very hard through the nose.

‘This,’ said I. ‘Virginia heard what was happening, and now I’m going to ask her what she wants done. If she wants you kicked, I’ll kick you until you pray for death. If she wants your head knocked off, I’m not too bad with my fists and I’ll do what I can. If she asks me not to thrash you, I’ll let you go. But I shouldn’t do this again, because next time I shan’t leave the decision to her.’

With that, I turned and left him, with a hand to his throat.

Virginia was not to be seen, but right at the end of the hall a door which had been shut was standing ajar…

As I pushed it open, I saw her at one of the windows regarding the sunlit fields.

At once I passed to her side.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve taken no action, of course. Is there anything you would like done?’

She shook her head. Then, without looking round, she put out a hand.

I took it naturally.

‘I’m sorry, Virginia.’

Her fingers closed upon mine.

‘When will your car be ready?’

‘This evening,’ said I.

‘Then go tomorrow morning. Let nothing stop you, Richard. Just go – and forget Jezreel.’

I felt very kindly towards her. She did not know that I knew the risk she was running in giving me such advice.

Appearances, however, had to be preserved.

‘I’m not afraid,’ I said. ‘Besides, he won’t try to get back – in your mother’s house.’

Virginia shivered.

Then –

‘I want you to go for my sake. If you stay, you’ll make me unhappy. I mayn’t be in love with Gaston; but, at least, at the moment, I care for nobody else.’

What the false suggestion cost her I cannot tell. But this I do know – few girls would have gone so far to save a comparative stranger from possible harm. Virginia had pledged her jewels, in order to force my hand.

She had, of course, succeeded. I had to go now. Not that it mattered, because I had meant to be gone. What did matter was that now I could not come back.

As I put her hand up to my lips, I wondered what Mansel would say…

Virginia caught her breath – she knew how to act. Then she whipped away her fingers.

‘And now for the lanterns,’ she said.

These were most exquisite things. Each of their seven faces presented a lovely window, glazed with Bohemian glass. The windows were made to open, and each of them had four panes: and each of the panes was presenting some fable of Aesop’s, the detail of which was so fine as to trouble the naked eye.

They had been made, said Virginia, as a wedding gift to some monarch whose name I forget: and now they served to illumine a seldom-used salon belonging to Vanity Fair. Lest the light they shed was too poor, standing between the windows was a sedan chair. This I had marked and admired the day before. The brocade of its cushions…

In spite of myself I started.

The roof of the chair was open,
but the blinds of the chair were drawn
.

As we turned to leave the salon, I know that Virginia was speaking, but I do not know what she said.

To be honest, my brain was recoiling, as a man recoils from a snake.

‘Ask Virginia to show you those lanterns.’

The truth was clear, if startling.

Though Virginia herself did not know it, she and I had just kept an appointment with Vanity Fair.

I confess that from that time on I counted the hours. I had had enough of Jezreel. For me, the house was haunted, and that by something more dreadful than any ghost. The place was cursed with the spirit of Vanity Fair.

We are so well accustomed to the safety of modern times that treachery is no longer a household word, and I almost despair of presenting the horrid condition of mind to which I had now been reduced. It was not, I think, bodily fear: it was not the dread of exposure: it was the guilty feeling of one who, by his own act, has witnessed some hideous office not meant to be seen, who knows he is being sought by the officers whom he observed. This on suspicion alone, for Vanity Fair had no proof. As a spy, I deserved no less. But she was using treachery as though it were not an essence, but something which is sold by the quart.

I reported the business to Mansel within the hour. My hasty note concluded,
I firmly believe that all these sedan-chairs are nothing but posts of observation, to be used as required
.

After what had occurred that morning I had, of course, assumed that Virginia’s expedition would not take place. De Rachel had insulted Virginia by insulting a decent maid who was paid to sweep, but not garnish, the rooms which his presence fouled: and I had insulted de Rachel by denying his right to bestow his fragrant favours as he saw fit. At luncheon, however, to my surprise and disgust, the arrangement was gaily confirmed by Vanity Fair, and at three o’clock precisely our most uncongenial muster struggled into the coupé and took to the roads.

I shall never forget that drive.

I can only suppose that de Rachel’s skin was of the nature of buckram, for his air was as high and as jaunty as though he had in his pocket the patent of chivalry. That he fancied himself as a driver was very clear, and I think the display which he gave was meant as well to awe Virginia as to diminish me and to demonstrate to us both that his skill and dash and daring were idiosyncrasies. Be that as it may, he so much abused the car that I could hardly sit still, while the risks which he took were so shocking that again and again I was frightened out of my life. Mercifully the roads were open, and the traffic which we encountered was very slight, but as we approached St Albert, he preferred to run over a dog to slackening speed. A more wanton piece of cruelty I never saw, and I was not surprised when Virginia, who knew her swain and, while we were some way off, had begged the dog’s life, immediately burst into tears. This very natural distress appeared to afford de Rachel matter for mirth and he made the incident into a parable by which was exposed the folly of such as made bold to oppose his strength of will.

Although I was ripe for murder, for Virginia’s sake I said nothing – until we were out of the car.

Then I took de Rachel aside.

‘Either I drive back,’ I said, ‘or you travel alone. Don’t argue the point, but tell me which you prefer.’

The man looked me up and down.

‘And if I refuse,’ he said.

‘Then I shall decide,’ said I, and, with that, I rejoined Virginia, who showed me the little town.

When we returned to the coupé, de Rachel was asprawl in the dickey, pretending to be asleep…

I am glad to record that some ten miles from Jezreel we ran into a thunderstorm. Of malice prepense, I instantly put down my foot. …When we arrived at the castle, Gaston de Rachel’s condition suggested that he was newly risen from the bed of some stream.

As he descended stiffly –

‘It serves you right,’ said Virginia, ‘for killing that dog.’

I had expected that Bell would hand me my orders when I went upstairs to dress, but he told me instead that I should find a note in the Rolls: ‘beneath the cushion, sir: but you’re not to touch it until you’re twenty miles off.’

‘All right,’ said I. ‘Tell Captain Mansel I’ll leave about half-past ten.’

‘Very good, sir,’ said Bell. He hesitated. ‘And if you please, I’m to spend the night here in your room.’

‘Oho,’ said I. ‘So he thinks…’

‘He didn’t say, sir,’ said Bell. ‘But no one won’t be surprised, sir – not after last night.’

‘That’s true,’ said I. ‘All right. We’ll watch by turns: and if anyone comes, we’ll plug him before he can think.’

‘Every time, sir,’ said Bell, warmly.

But I knew in my heart there was no danger, because Mansel had given no order. My faithful servant was taking his name in vain.

Half-an-hour later, perhaps, my hostess sat back in her stall. ‘You’re determined to leave us,’ she said. ‘Hasn’t Gaston contrived to induce you to alter your mind?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said I, unsteadily.

Vanity Fair shrugged her shoulders.

‘He’ll miss you terribly,’ she said. ‘Won’t you, Gaston?’

De Rachel was understood to say that he would.

‘You don’t seem very sure about it.’

‘I shall be desolated,’ mouthed Gaston.

‘I had a feeling you would,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘Still you ought to have learned quite a lot in forty-eight hours. Did you make the most of your drive?’

‘I enjoyed it very much,’ said Gaston, with bulging eyes.

Vanity Fair turned to me.

‘And you?’

‘It was delightful,’ said I, shakily. ‘The scenery–’

‘Yes. I wasn’t thinking of the scenery,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘Never mind. Candle’s arriving on Friday – I’ve just had a wire. The portrait-painter, you know. I want him to paint Virginia.’