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Authors: Evelyn Hervey
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to do tonight. Simply look and listen. And if you see or hear anything that seems even a little out of place, let me know of it when you can.”
“Out o’ place?”
“Yes, just that. Because, unless I’m very much mistaken, there will be here tonight amidst all the festivities one man who will be out of place indeed. A murderer, my dear, no less.”
“An’ what’ve I got to look out for? Blood on ’is ’ands?”
Miss Unwin smiled. “No, nothing as plain as that, I’m afraid. But that man killed a villain not so many weeks ago, and, more to the point, he is even now hoping and praying that the law in its majesty will kill a good man for him before the week is out. So he may not manage to behave quite as he should. And perhaps, only perhaps, either you or I shall catch a glimpse of that ’not as he should.’”
“Then I’ll keep me old peepers as peeled as peeled,” said Vilkins. “Trust me for that.”
7
Then at last there came the hour of the ball. Carriages rolled up to the wide-open door of the old house. Ladies in gowns of gauze and muslin were handed down from them. Gentlemen in evening dress stepped out afterwards. Gentlemen in evening dress or, Miss Unwin noted, watching discreetly from the doorway of the little morning-room where she was on duty, very often in military uniform, as might be expected when a general entertained.
It was at this time, too, that she got her first sight of General Pastell, standing at the back of his long entrance hall welcoming the guests. She was impressed, even deeply, by what she saw. The General was so plainly a soldier, for all that he was no longer of an age to be active. But the utter straightness of his back, the firm set of his shoulders, the rigour of his white moustaches, all proclaimed the military man even more than the glitteringly epauletted uniform he wore so proudly. Yet even from a distance it was plain that he radiated kindness and good humour. Each new guest appeared to be questioned about health and family and kept long enough for a full answer. And each one left him smiling.
Yes, Miss Unwin thought, I can well understand a man like that taking so much trouble to save a lowly soldier from the gallows. No wonder Mrs. Perker accepted at once that daring lie that he had employed a private inquiry agency even at this late hour. Why, it might be thought the old gentleman had some special reason for his kindness.
But she had no time now to speculate on the character of the man under whose roof she was working in secret. Ladyguests began to flood into the morning-room to leave wraps and cloaks, and more than one needed help to repair some minor disaster to hair or complexion that had occurred on the journey to the Hall.
Eventually, however, the rush ended. The band Miss Unwin had followed up to the house earlier in the day could be heard from the ballroom blowing and scraping hard as they could go, and from elsewhere in the big house came the sound of conversations and laughter.
In the scurry of the arrivals, Miss Unwin had had little time to eavesdrop on what one lady was saying to another, though she thought that if some particularly scandalous subject had arisen, she would have caught it. But it was not likely, she reasoned, that the real gossip of the neighbourhood, which might give her a clue as to who could be a victim of Alfie Goode’s extortion, would be broached at the start of the evening. Ladies not in the inner circle of county society must be present as well as those at the heart of affairs. So the latter would certainly be restrained—until two or three of them happened to be alone in the room together.
Just then the stately figure of Mrs. Perker, contriving somehow to be unobtrusive at the same time, came sailing in. There was no one else in the room, and the housekeeper at once placed herself within an inch or two of Miss Unwin’s chair.
“I think I ought to tell you, miss,” she murmured, though with no loss of dignity,
“Out o’ place?”
“Yes, just that. Because, unless I’m very much mistaken, there will be here tonight amidst all the festivities one man who will be out of place indeed. A murderer, my dear, no less.”
“An’ what’ve I got to look out for? Blood on ’is ’ands?”
Miss Unwin smiled. “No, nothing as plain as that, I’m afraid. But that man killed a villain not so many weeks ago, and, more to the point, he is even now hoping and praying that the law in its majesty will kill a good man for him before the week is out. So he may not manage to behave quite as he should. And perhaps, only perhaps, either you or I shall catch a glimpse of that ’not as he should.’”
“Then I’ll keep me old peepers as peeled as peeled,” said Vilkins. “Trust me for that.”
7
Then at last there came the hour of the ball. Carriages rolled up to the wide-open door of the old house. Ladies in gowns of gauze and muslin were handed down from them. Gentlemen in evening dress stepped out afterwards. Gentlemen in evening dress or, Miss Unwin noted, watching discreetly from the doorway of the little morning-room where she was on duty, very often in military uniform, as might be expected when a general entertained.
It was at this time, too, that she got her first sight of General Pastell, standing at the back of his long entrance hall welcoming the guests. She was impressed, even deeply, by what she saw. The General was so plainly a soldier, for all that he was no longer of an age to be active. But the utter straightness of his back, the firm set of his shoulders, the rigour of his white moustaches, all proclaimed the military man even more than the glitteringly epauletted uniform he wore so proudly. Yet even from a distance it was plain that he radiated kindness and good humour. Each new guest appeared to be questioned about health and family and kept long enough for a full answer. And each one left him smiling.
Yes, Miss Unwin thought, I can well understand a man like that taking so much trouble to save a lowly soldier from the gallows. No wonder Mrs. Perker accepted at once that daring lie that he had employed a private inquiry agency even at this late hour. Why, it might be thought the old gentleman had some special reason for his kindness.
But she had no time now to speculate on the character of the man under whose roof she was working in secret. Ladyguests began to flood into the morning-room to leave wraps and cloaks, and more than one needed help to repair some minor disaster to hair or complexion that had occurred on the journey to the Hall.
Eventually, however, the rush ended. The band Miss Unwin had followed up to the house earlier in the day could be heard from the ballroom blowing and scraping hard as they could go, and from elsewhere in the big house came the sound of conversations and laughter.
In the scurry of the arrivals, Miss Unwin had had little time to eavesdrop on what one lady was saying to another, though she thought that if some particularly scandalous subject had arisen, she would have caught it. But it was not likely, she reasoned, that the real gossip of the neighbourhood, which might give her a clue as to who could be a victim of Alfie Goode’s extortion, would be broached at the start of the evening. Ladies not in the inner circle of county society must be present as well as those at the heart of affairs. So the latter would certainly be restrained—until two or three of them happened to be alone in the room together.
Just then the stately figure of Mrs. Perker, contriving somehow to be unobtrusive at the same time, came sailing in. There was no one else in the room, and the housekeeper at once placed herself within an inch or two of Miss Unwin’s chair.
“I think I ought to tell you, miss,” she murmured, though with no loss of dignity,
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