Read Online Why Shoot a Butler by Georgette Heyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Georgette Heyer
Ads: Link
drawling voice.
She started uncontrollably and swung round. Leaning against the archway that led to the hall was Mephistopheles, without his mask.
The dry sob that broke from her was one of startled nerves. "You!" she panted. "You followed me up here!"
"Why not?" he said.
She could not answer; she stood staring at him, backed against the tallboy.
"Do you usually inspect the furniture in the houses you visit?" inquired Mr. Amberley in a conversational voice.
She made an effort to pull herself together. "I'm interested in period pieces."
"Are you indeed?" He strolled forward and saw her stiffen. "I'm quite uninstructed in these matters. But I'm most curious to know what you find to interest you inside the tallboy."
She said, trying to speak naturally: "Of course - I should not have opened the drawer. I only wanted to see whether it ran easily I haven't stolen anything, if that's what you think. There - isn't anything to steal."
"You don't have much luck, do you?" he said.
A footstep sounded in the hall; Fountain's boisterous voice said: "Half a moment, you people; I'm going to rout out the picture gallery. Aha, Miss Elliott, so I did spot you! It was the dimple that gave you away. Couldn't disguise that, you know!"
The contadina stood like a statue, but through the mask her eyes were fixed on Amberley's face in a rather desperate entreaty.
Fountain came through the archway into the passage humming a dance tune. He had almost turned right, in the direction of the gallery, when he caught sight of the couple at the other end of the passage. He stopped. "Hullo!" he said, surprised. "What are you two up to?"
Amberley looked down at the girl for a moment, then he turned. "Hullo!" he answered. "We're admiring the tallboy. Do you know the date of it?"
"Lord, what a chap you are for antiques!" said Fountain, going towards them. "No, I haven't the foggiest. But it's a show piece all right. Rotten things, tallboys, I think. If you put things in the top drawers you have to have a pair of steps to get 'em out again. But you can't put me off with furniture, my boy! No, no, it's midnight, and masks off! Now who's this pretty lady?"
He was standing before the contadina, burly and ovial, a hand advanced to take off her mask. Mr. Amberley caught his wrist and held it. "Oh no!" he said. "My privilege. You're very much de trop."
Fountain burst out laughing. "De trop, am I? All right, all right, I won't spoil sport! Tallboys indeed! You tell that to the marines."
Someone called: "Basil! Do come here!" from the direction of the stairs, and Fountain began to walk away, saying over his shoulder: "Mind you claim the penalty for being masked after midnight, Amberley!"
In another moment he was gone. The contadina's muscles relaxed. She said: "Why did you do that? Why didn't you let him unmask me?"
"You ought to be grateful to me for not letting him," said Mr. Amberley.
"I am grateful. But why did you do it? I know very well you don't trust me."
"Not an inch," said Mr. Amberley. "But I'm handling you myself."
"If you think I'm a thief - oh, and a murderess too! - why don't you give me up to the police?" she said bitterly.
"Well," said Mr. Amberley, "having given way to a somewhat foolish impulse and refrained from mentioning your presence on the scene of the murder to the police, I can't very well come out with it now. And who am I to question your interest in antiques?"
She put up her hand and ripped her mask off; her face was flushed, her eyes stormy. "I hate you!" she shot out. "You didn't shield me out of- out of consideration! It was because you want to solve what you choose to think is a mystery by yourself!"
"Quite right," agreed Mr. Amberley. "Though somewhat involved."
She looked as though she would have liked to hit him. "Then let me tell you I'd rather you went downstairs now and let the Fountains know I'm a gate-crasher and a thief than — than have you following me and spying what I do!"
"I haven't the smallest
She started uncontrollably and swung round. Leaning against the archway that led to the hall was Mephistopheles, without his mask.
The dry sob that broke from her was one of startled nerves. "You!" she panted. "You followed me up here!"
"Why not?" he said.
She could not answer; she stood staring at him, backed against the tallboy.
"Do you usually inspect the furniture in the houses you visit?" inquired Mr. Amberley in a conversational voice.
She made an effort to pull herself together. "I'm interested in period pieces."
"Are you indeed?" He strolled forward and saw her stiffen. "I'm quite uninstructed in these matters. But I'm most curious to know what you find to interest you inside the tallboy."
She said, trying to speak naturally: "Of course - I should not have opened the drawer. I only wanted to see whether it ran easily I haven't stolen anything, if that's what you think. There - isn't anything to steal."
"You don't have much luck, do you?" he said.
A footstep sounded in the hall; Fountain's boisterous voice said: "Half a moment, you people; I'm going to rout out the picture gallery. Aha, Miss Elliott, so I did spot you! It was the dimple that gave you away. Couldn't disguise that, you know!"
The contadina stood like a statue, but through the mask her eyes were fixed on Amberley's face in a rather desperate entreaty.
Fountain came through the archway into the passage humming a dance tune. He had almost turned right, in the direction of the gallery, when he caught sight of the couple at the other end of the passage. He stopped. "Hullo!" he said, surprised. "What are you two up to?"
Amberley looked down at the girl for a moment, then he turned. "Hullo!" he answered. "We're admiring the tallboy. Do you know the date of it?"
"Lord, what a chap you are for antiques!" said Fountain, going towards them. "No, I haven't the foggiest. But it's a show piece all right. Rotten things, tallboys, I think. If you put things in the top drawers you have to have a pair of steps to get 'em out again. But you can't put me off with furniture, my boy! No, no, it's midnight, and masks off! Now who's this pretty lady?"
He was standing before the contadina, burly and ovial, a hand advanced to take off her mask. Mr. Amberley caught his wrist and held it. "Oh no!" he said. "My privilege. You're very much de trop."
Fountain burst out laughing. "De trop, am I? All right, all right, I won't spoil sport! Tallboys indeed! You tell that to the marines."
Someone called: "Basil! Do come here!" from the direction of the stairs, and Fountain began to walk away, saying over his shoulder: "Mind you claim the penalty for being masked after midnight, Amberley!"
In another moment he was gone. The contadina's muscles relaxed. She said: "Why did you do that? Why didn't you let him unmask me?"
"You ought to be grateful to me for not letting him," said Mr. Amberley.
"I am grateful. But why did you do it? I know very well you don't trust me."
"Not an inch," said Mr. Amberley. "But I'm handling you myself."
"If you think I'm a thief - oh, and a murderess too! - why don't you give me up to the police?" she said bitterly.
"Well," said Mr. Amberley, "having given way to a somewhat foolish impulse and refrained from mentioning your presence on the scene of the murder to the police, I can't very well come out with it now. And who am I to question your interest in antiques?"
She put up her hand and ripped her mask off; her face was flushed, her eyes stormy. "I hate you!" she shot out. "You didn't shield me out of- out of consideration! It was because you want to solve what you choose to think is a mystery by yourself!"
"Quite right," agreed Mr. Amberley. "Though somewhat involved."
She looked as though she would have liked to hit him. "Then let me tell you I'd rather you went downstairs now and let the Fountains know I'm a gate-crasher and a thief than — than have you following me and spying what I do!"
"I haven't the smallest
Similar Books
