Read Online Into the Valley of Death by Evelyn Hervey - Free Book Online

fit, and then, lady’s-maid or no lady’s-maid, you must help where you’re wanted.”
    But after this she took a step nearer and dropped her voice.
    “And as to you-know-what, you must shift for yourself as best you can. And you may be sure I have not told a soul.”
    By which Miss Unwin knew that one soul at least must have been told. And that that one soul would tell another, and that other yet one more. If the man who had shot Alfie Goode was to be at the ball, it was more than likely that sooner or later he would learn that a female detective, one of those creatures more written about in sensation novels than active in real life, was there to spy on him. But fictional exaggerations might well stand her in good stead. The man she wanted to start from his lair might be all the more nervous because of them, and perhaps all the more ready to make a move. It would be a dangerous move for her, no doubt, but, if all went well, a fine false move.
    She found almost at once that some of her guesses were correct. When she entered the servants’ hall, more than one pair of eyes regarded her with more curiosity than a mere ordinary newcomer might expect. And when she was taken by Rosa to see if one of her crisply starched black cambric dresses would fit, she received final confirmation.
    Rosa said nothing directly. A dress was found and a few stitches put in it to adjust the waist. Then, as Miss Unwin, now from head to foot a servant once more, was leaving the bedroom, Rosa ventured one quick remark.
    “There now, miss, you’ll be as fine a lady’s-maid as myself.”
    The “miss” was the betrayal. Miss Unwin thanked her new fellow servant and ignored the tiny slip.
    For the next few hours, in fact, she had little opportunity to think of how she had stepped down from governess to maid, and not much more chance, as it turned out, of working at the reason she had had for her descent. When “the whole county” is coming to a ball in a house in only a few hours, each and every servant in that house will be kept busy oneway or another, from housekeeper of twenty years’ service to lady’s-maid just employed that day.
    So Miss Unwin—plain Unwin now—made herself useful, and did no more than hope she might learn a little. She collected newly polished lamps from the lamp-room, with their wicks well trimmed, ready for the night’s illumination in a country house as yet far from having the convenience of city gaslight. She took a fresh jar of beeswax to a pair of footmen dragging the gardener’s boy on a polishing mat up and down the parquet of the ballroom. She fetched candles by the box to fit into the glittering chandeliers. She went to the still-room to take from its cupboards and long shelves preserves and liqueurs and put them where, when the supper hour came round, they would be needed. She even stepped outside once to the game-larder, isolated in its back courtyard where its rank odours would not be offensive, to bring well-hung birds to the kitchens.
    She made sure, too, that she had everything she herself might want in the little morning parlour, where during the ball she was to sit and be ready to assist with hot tongs if careful curls had fallen from their place or with needle and thread if some minor repair was needed.
    So, in the end, only once in all the hours of preparation did she find a moment to do something towards furthering the task she had undertaken. This was when, late on, she caught a glimpse of Vilkins, busy as herself. She managed to draw her aside.
    “Dear,” she said hurriedly, “you, too, can play your part tonight.”
    “What, me a female detective? You don’t know ’oo you’re a-talking to.”
    “Oh, yes, I do, my dear. To someone who has eyes in her head, and good sharp ones, too.”
    “Well, I won’t say as ’ow I can’t see what’s in front o’ me nose.”
    “And there are a good many good people who let themselvesbe blinded when it comes to that. So this is what I want you