Read Online Spinsters in Jeopardy by Ngaio Marsh - Free Book Online Page B

fragility in the general structure of his head, gave him an air of effeminacy. What was startling and to Troy quite shocking, was the resemblance to Roman Catholic devotional prints such as the “Sacred Heart.” She was to learn that this resemblance was deliberately cultivated. He wore a white dressing gown to which his extraordinary appearance gave the air of a ceremonial robe.
    It seemed incredible that such a being could make normal conversation. Troy would not have been surprised if he had acknowledged the introduction in Sanskirt. However, he gave her his hand, which was small and well-formed, and a conventional greeting. He had a singularly musical voice and spoke without any marked accent, though Troy fancied she heard a faint American inflection. She said something about his kindness in offering harbourage to Miss Truebody. He smiled gently, sank on to an Algerian leather seat, drew his feet up under his gown and placed them, apparently, against his thighs. His hands fell softly to his lap.
    “You have brought,” he said, “a gift of great price. We are grateful.”
    From the time that they had confronted each other he had looked fully into Troy’s eyes and he continued to do so. It was not the half-unseeing attention of ordinary courtesy but an unswerving fixed regard. He seemed to blink less than most people.
    His disciple said: “Dearest Ra, I’ve got the most monstrous headache.”
    “It will pass,” he said, still looking at Troy. “You know what you should do, dear Sati.”
    “Yes, I do, don’t I! But it’s so hard sometimes to feel the light. One gropes and gropes.”
    “Patience, dear Sati. It will come.”
    She sat up on her li-low, seized her ankles and with a grunt of discomfort adjusted the soles of her feet to the inside surface of her thighs. “Om,” she said discontentedly.
    Mr. Oberon said to Troy: “We speak of things that are a little strange to you. Or perhaps they are not altogether strange?”
    “Just what
I
thought,” the lady began eagerly. “Isn’t she
fey
?”
    He disregarded her.
    “Should I explain that we — my guests here and I — follow what we believe to be the true Way of Life? Perhaps, up here, in this ancient house, we have created an atmosphere that to a visitor is a little overwhelming. Do you feel it so?”
    Troy said: “I’m afraid I’m just rather addled with a long journey, not much sleep, and an anxious time with Miss Truebody.”
    “I have been helping her. And, I hope, our friend Baradi.”
    “Have you?” Troy exclaimed in great surprise. “I thought…? But how kind of you… Is… is the operation going well?”
    He smiled, showing his perfect teeth. “Again, I do not make myself clear, I have been with them, not in the body but in the spirit.”
    “Oh,” mumbled Troy. “I’m sorry.”
    “Particularly with your friend. This was easy because when by the will, or, as with her, by the agency of an anaesthetic, the soul is set free of the body, it may be greatly helped. Hers is a pure soul. She should be called Miss Truesoul instead of Truebody.” He laughed, a light breathy sound, and showed the pink interior of his mouth. “But we must not despise the body,” he said, apparently as an afterthought.
    His disciple whispered: “Oh, no! No, indeed! No,” and started to breathe deeply, stopping one nostril with a finger and expelling her breath with a hissing sound. Troy began to wonder if Miss Locke was, perhaps, a little mad.
    Oberon had shifted his gaze from Troy. His eyes were still very wide open and quite without expression. He had seen the sleeping Ricky.
    It was with the greatest difficulty that Troy gave her movement towards Ricky a semblance of casualness. Her instinct, she afterwards told Alleyn, was entirely that of a mother cat. She leaned over her small son and made a pretence of adjusting the cushion behind him. She heard Oberon say: “A beautiful child,” and thought that no matter how odd it might look, she would stand