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Authors: Georgette Heyer
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happened.
She listened in wondering silence, but when he spoke of the part he believed Strange to be playing, she broke in with an emphatic and somewhat indignant headshake. "I'm sure he isn't a crook! And I'm perfectly certain he'd never make awful noises to frighten us, or put skeletons where we should find them. Besides, why should he?"
"I'm not prepared to answer that question without due warning," Charles said cautiously. "All I know about him at present is that he's a rather mysterious fellow who holds distinctly fishy conversations with a palpable old lag, and who - apparently - knows how to get round persons of your sex."
"That's all rot," Margaret said without hesitation. "There's nothing in the least mysterious about him, and I expect if you'd heard more of it you'd have found that the fishy conversation was quite innocent really. You know how you can say things that sound odd in themselves, and yet don't mean anything."
"I hotly resent this reflection upon my conversation," Charles said.
"You've got to remember too, Peg, that when we heard that groan before, we found Strange close up to the house, and on the same side as the secret entrance," Peter interposed. "I don't say that that proves anything, but it ought to be borne in mind. I certainly think that Mr. Michael Strange's proceedings want explaining."
"I think it's utterly absurd!" Margaret said. "Why, you might as well suspect Mr. Titmarsh!" Having delivered herself of which scornful utterance, she rose, and announced her intention of going back to bed.
To be on the safe side, Charles and Peter spent the following morning in sealing up the hidden entrance. An account of the night's happenings did much to reconcile Celia to her enforced stay at the Priory. Human beings, she said, she wasn't in the least afraid of.
"I only hope," said Mrs. Bosanquet pessimistically, "that we are not all murdered in our beds."
Both she and Celia were agreed that the latest development made the calling in of police aid imperative. The men were still loth to do this, but they had to admit that Celia had reason on her side.
"There's no longer any question of being laughed at," she argued. "Someone broke into this house last night, and it's for the police to take the matter in hand. It's all very well for you two to fancy yourselves in the role of amateur detectives, but I should feel a lot easier in my mind if some real detectives got going."
"How can you?" said Charles unctuously. "When you lost your diamond brooch, who found it?"
"I did," Celia replied. "Wedged between the bristles of my hair-brush. That was after you'd had the waste up in the bath, and two of the floor-boards in our room."
"That wasn't the time I meant," said Charles hastily.
Celia wrinkled her brow. "The only other time I lost it was at that hotel in Edinburgh, and then you stepped on it getting out of bed. If that's what you mean…'
"Well, wasn't that finding it?" demanded Charles. "Guided by a rare intuition, I rose from my couch, and straightway put my - er - foot on the thing."
"You did. But that wasn't quite how you phrased it at the time," said Celia. "If I remember rightly…'
"You needn't go on," Charles told her. "When it comes to recounting incidents in which I played a prominent part you never do remember rightly. To put it bluntly, for gross misrepresentation of fact you're hard to beat."
"Time!" called Peter. "Let's put it to the vote. Who is for calling in the police, or who is not? Margaret, you've got the casting vote. What do you say?"
She hesitated. "I think I rather agree with Celia. You both suspect Mr. Strange. Well, I'm sure you're wrong. Let the police take over before you go and make fools of yourselves." She added apologetically: "I don't mean to be rude about it, but…'
"I'm glad to know that," said Charles. "I mean, we might easily have misunderstood you. But what a field of conjecture this opens out! I shall always wonder what you'd have said if you had meant to
She listened in wondering silence, but when he spoke of the part he believed Strange to be playing, she broke in with an emphatic and somewhat indignant headshake. "I'm sure he isn't a crook! And I'm perfectly certain he'd never make awful noises to frighten us, or put skeletons where we should find them. Besides, why should he?"
"I'm not prepared to answer that question without due warning," Charles said cautiously. "All I know about him at present is that he's a rather mysterious fellow who holds distinctly fishy conversations with a palpable old lag, and who - apparently - knows how to get round persons of your sex."
"That's all rot," Margaret said without hesitation. "There's nothing in the least mysterious about him, and I expect if you'd heard more of it you'd have found that the fishy conversation was quite innocent really. You know how you can say things that sound odd in themselves, and yet don't mean anything."
"I hotly resent this reflection upon my conversation," Charles said.
"You've got to remember too, Peg, that when we heard that groan before, we found Strange close up to the house, and on the same side as the secret entrance," Peter interposed. "I don't say that that proves anything, but it ought to be borne in mind. I certainly think that Mr. Michael Strange's proceedings want explaining."
"I think it's utterly absurd!" Margaret said. "Why, you might as well suspect Mr. Titmarsh!" Having delivered herself of which scornful utterance, she rose, and announced her intention of going back to bed.
To be on the safe side, Charles and Peter spent the following morning in sealing up the hidden entrance. An account of the night's happenings did much to reconcile Celia to her enforced stay at the Priory. Human beings, she said, she wasn't in the least afraid of.
"I only hope," said Mrs. Bosanquet pessimistically, "that we are not all murdered in our beds."
Both she and Celia were agreed that the latest development made the calling in of police aid imperative. The men were still loth to do this, but they had to admit that Celia had reason on her side.
"There's no longer any question of being laughed at," she argued. "Someone broke into this house last night, and it's for the police to take the matter in hand. It's all very well for you two to fancy yourselves in the role of amateur detectives, but I should feel a lot easier in my mind if some real detectives got going."
"How can you?" said Charles unctuously. "When you lost your diamond brooch, who found it?"
"I did," Celia replied. "Wedged between the bristles of my hair-brush. That was after you'd had the waste up in the bath, and two of the floor-boards in our room."
"That wasn't the time I meant," said Charles hastily.
Celia wrinkled her brow. "The only other time I lost it was at that hotel in Edinburgh, and then you stepped on it getting out of bed. If that's what you mean…'
"Well, wasn't that finding it?" demanded Charles. "Guided by a rare intuition, I rose from my couch, and straightway put my - er - foot on the thing."
"You did. But that wasn't quite how you phrased it at the time," said Celia. "If I remember rightly…'
"You needn't go on," Charles told her. "When it comes to recounting incidents in which I played a prominent part you never do remember rightly. To put it bluntly, for gross misrepresentation of fact you're hard to beat."
"Time!" called Peter. "Let's put it to the vote. Who is for calling in the police, or who is not? Margaret, you've got the casting vote. What do you say?"
She hesitated. "I think I rather agree with Celia. You both suspect Mr. Strange. Well, I'm sure you're wrong. Let the police take over before you go and make fools of yourselves." She added apologetically: "I don't mean to be rude about it, but…'
"I'm glad to know that," said Charles. "I mean, we might easily have misunderstood you. But what a field of conjecture this opens out! I shall always wonder what you'd have said if you had meant to
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