The Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy

by James Anderson

  'I never have. But I sometimes wonder whether I should try.'

  'Well, of course, I don't know your husband well, but I'm sure George would not welcome my trying to take an interest in his. He would have to keep explaining things to me and answering my questions, and that would make him highly impatient.'

  'Oh, Hiram likes talking about his guns - to anybody who will listen. I think he'd enjoy educating me in the finer points. What stops me chiefly is a fear of what it might lead to.'

  'How do you mean, my dear?'

  'They take up so much of his leisure time already. Naturally I am thankful that he has gotten this hobby. If he didn't, he'd probably spend all the time he now devotes to guns at the office, which wouldn't be good for him. His heart's a little weak—'

  'I'm sorry. I didn't know.'

  'It's not a serious condition, as long as he takes things fairly easy. Our doctor told him some years ago that he had to learn to relax. Guns were his way. He'd always been interested in them, but it was after that that they really became a passion with him. It's only consideration for me that stops him giving even more time to them. If he thought I was an enthusiast, too, I really don't think we'd get anything else done at all, out of business hours.'

  'You might actually become an enthusiast - have you thought of that?'

  Mrs. Peabody chuckled. 'I hardly think that's likely. I quite like some small ones. They can be very pretty with their ivory or silver inlay.'

  'Oh, I don't mind the pistols and things like that. It's the cannon I object to.'

  'Cannon?' Mrs. Peabody stared. 'The Earl has cannon up there?'

  'But yes. Not many, I'm glad to say, because I managed to talk him out of going in for any more. But he's got half a dozen really big pieces.'

  'Oh dear.' A look of consternation appeared on Mrs. Peabody's face.

  'What's the matter?'

  'Hiram's never gone in for anything like that. I just hope he doesn't get ideas.'

  * * *

  Just at that moment Lord Burford was saying: 'And down this end, as you see, I keep the heavy stuff.'

  'Which is where I guess I get a trifle out of my depth. I know very little about artillery.'

  'Really?' Lord Burford seemed to perk up a little at these words. 'Then let me try to enlarge your education.' He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

  'Now this first little job is one of the earliest machine guns. Invented in 1718 by James Puckle. Six chamber cylinder. Each chamber has to be primed through the touch hole. Fired by a conventional flintlock mechanism fitted to the barrel. Its weakness was a loose-fitting breech mechanism which allowed a lot of gas to escape. All the same, this type of gun was reported as firing sixty-three rounds in seven minutes under test conditions in 1772. Next is a British 2.75 inch mountain gun. This was the basic weapon of the Indian mountain artillery. Introduced 1914. An improved version of the original ten-pounder "screw" gun. Replaced after the war by the 3.7 inch Howitzer. Next we have a thirty-two-pounder carronade - made at the Carron foundry in Scotland, you know. This one's off HMS Victory - Nelson's flagship at Trafalgar. Range about five hundred yards. This next giant's a circus cannon. Used by Burundi the Human Cannonball to set up a world record of 165 feet. The barrel's sixteen feet long. Fired by compressed air. The electrical compressor plugs into the mains. Takes three or four minutes to build up pressure. Triggered by that lever and the barrel elevated by this handle. Now we come to a Maxim Nordenfeldt 75 mm. These were used by the Boers in the South African war. Hydro spring recoil system. They're light and — '

  Lord Burford broke off. 'Not boring you, am I, old man?' Peabody was looking a bit dazed. 'Not at all,' he said.

  'Good. Where were we? Oh yes. Next a Becket Semag cannon. This was a forerunner of the Oerlikon gun, and . . .'

  * * *

  In the music room Richard got to his feet. 'I think,' he said, 'that it might be a good idea if we called it a day now. I know it's early, but we don't seem to be making a great deal of progress and we may do better if we start fresh tomorrow morning. I don't quite know what's gone wrong today. There must, I think, have been some sort of misunderstanding between our respective superiors, and it might be necessary for one or both of us to take fresh instructions before the morning. I hope now we can forget our differences and spend the rest of the day pleasantly.'

  'Oh, I'm sure we can,' Adler said with a smile. 'We don't want to spoil the weekend for your brother's other guests. And I think, Saunders, that you are tending to exaggerate the differences between us. I'm sure that by tomorrow evening everything will have been settled satisfactorily.'

  'I sincerely hope so,' Richard said.

  They left the room and walked to the hall. Felman went straight upstairs. Adler paused and seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then as Richard and Thornton walked on, he called out: 'May I make a 'phone call, please?'

  Richard turned back. 'Yes, certainly. The telephone room is along here. I'll show you.' He led Adler to the door and asked: 'Is it a trunk call - long distance, that is?'

  Adler seemed somewhat surprised by the question. His eyebrows went up. 'Yes - that is, if you don't mind—'

  'Of course not. I'm sorry; I wasn't being inquisitive. I was just going to explain the procedure. You ask the operator for "Trunks".'

  Thank you.'

  Richard started to move away. Then he stopped and said: 'You're welcome to ring the Grand Duke himself, if you think it'll help.'

  Adler smiled. 'I don't think that will be necessary.'

  Richard went back to the hall, where Thornton was waiting for him, and said quietly: 'He's making a trunk call.'

  'Indeed?' Thornton looked interested. 'His embassy, do you imagine?'

  Richard nodded. 'So I would guess - and probably to arrange for them to inform the Grand Duke that the ploy has failed and he's going to have to start giving away some land.'

  'I trust you're right. We must find out something about this territory soon. I hope I may say without disrespect that I think your firmness this afternoon was admirable.'

  'My dear chap, I'm sure in no circumstances could you be disrespectful. Thank you for your support. I suspect that certain of your colleagues would have been urging me to give way -anything to avoid a disagreement. Now, how about a drink?'

  * * *

  Jane entered the drawing room through the french windows at the same time as Martin Adler came in by the door.

  'Ah, Miss Clifton.'

  'Good afternoon, Mr. Adler. Business finished for the day?'

  'Yes, we decided to knock off early. You haven't seen Felman anywhere, have you?'

  'I'm afraid not. Mr. Saunders and Mr. Thornton are on the terrace having a drink - they may know.'

  'It's of no importance. A drink sounds good, though.'

  'I was just going to ring for one myself.'

  She rang the bell, then threw herself down onto a settee. 'Whew! I have been acting as captive audience to Algernon Fotheringay for a full ninety minutes and I'm exhausted.'

  'Fotheringay likes the sound of his own voice, does he? I've barely spoken to him as yet.'

  'You won't get much chance to speak to him, either. Algy will speak to you, though, some time. You won't be able to get out of it, I warn you.'

  Just then Merryweather entered in answer to the bell. Jane said: 'Merryweather, could I have some lemonade, please?'

  'Certainly, miss. And you, sir?'

  'I'd like a whisky, please.'

  'Yes, sir. With ice, I imagine?'

  'Correct.'

  Merryweather withdrew. Jane said: 'What did he mean? Oh, of course, all Americans take ice, don't they? You're only partly American, though, aren't you?'

  'Half by parentage, wholly by education, but not by birth.'

  'And is this your first visit to England?'

  'Yes, it is. I feel I know the country quite well, though. I had an English girlfriend once. She was always talking about London, and about the Cotswold hills, where she'd been born. It s
ounded nice. She wanted me to come back with her and settle here.'

  'Why didn't you?'

  'Oh, I don't think I'm the type to settle down to domestic bliss.'

  'Love 'em and leave 'em is your motto, is it?'

  'That's about the size of it.'

  Merryweather came back then with the drinks. Jane sipped her lemonade and watched Adler as he poured himself a whisky and added ice. The man had magnetism as well as charm.

  Then Jane gave a start just as Gerry suddenly came bounding in through the french windows. She was wearing slacks and an old open-neck shirt and there was oil on her nose.

  'That's fixed the brute. Gosh, I'm dying for a gasper.' She took a cigarette from a box and lit it. 'Oh, lemonade. Gorgeous.' She poured herself a glass and sat down by Jane. 'Darling, you look awfully pale. Do you feel all right?'

  'I've got a bit of a headache, Gerry. I sat out there in the sun without a hat and without my glare glasses for about an hour and a half, just listening to Algy waffle. I think I'll go and lie down for a bit.' She stood up. 'I'll see you at dinner.'

  She went out. Gerry turned to Adler. 'Had a good day, Mr. Adler?'

  'Well, Lady Geraldine, not exactly good, but much as expected. Shall we say everything's under control?'

  * * *

  After the tennis, Giles Deveraux settled down in the shade of an oak tree to do some writing. He stayed there an hour, then put away his notebook, got to his feet, and brushed a few loose blades of grass from his flannel bags. He looked up at the grey mass of Alderley, standing timeless and stalwart under the August sun. It was a magnificent sight. Was it so handsome from each side, he wondered. It was time, for professional reasons, anyway, that he had a good look at it from every angle. He began to stroll round. He had nearly completed one circuit when he came upon John Evans, who was leaning against the wall next to the orangery, gazing at the house in silent admiration.

  Deveraux jerked his head towards it. 'Nice, isn't it? What's your offer going to be?'

  'Oh, I might run to a hundred quid.'

  'You won't get it at that price. I'm offering guineas.

  'Evans smiled. 'You're writing a book about it, aren't you?'

  'I'm not sure yet. I'm writing a book about country houses. Whether Alderley will be included, I don't know.'

  'It would be a great pity to leave it out.'

  'I know. Unfortunately, that will apply to many places.'

  'I suppose so.'

  'I'm just going in to tea. Coming?'

  They strolled off. Evans said: 'Must be an interesting job, yours.'

  Deveraux shrugged. 'I keep moving.'

  'I do, too, to a certain extent, with Mr. Peabody. But it's quite hard work. Voluminous correspondence follows him everywhere. I was dealing with it all the morning. Then on a trip like this I have to make all the travel arrangements, reservations, and so on. Anyway, they're going home next month. I'm not sure I shall go with them. I like England—'

  'Your first visit?'

  'Yes. I'd like to get a job and stay here for a while, if I could find anything suitable. You don't happen to know of a good billet, do you?'

  'Not off-hand.'

  'Well, if you find the owners of any of these stately homes you're intending to write about are in need of a reasonably efficient tame secretary, perhaps you'll bear me in mind.'

  'Certainly. Give me an address where I can contact you before we leave.'

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Baroness de la Roche

  'George,' said the Countess, 'you are not looking well.'

  'Ain't I, my dear? I feel fine.'

  'No you don't, George. You don't feel well at all.'

  Lord Burford stared at her. 'But I do, Lavinia.'

  'George - you feel a bilious attack coming on. I quite forgot to get another guest for dinner tonight and it's far too late now. Moreover, I've found out that Carrie Peabody is superstitious, so we cannot sit down thirteen to dinner. You, therefore, will have to dine alone.'

  Lord Burford gave a groan. 'Oh, Lavinia, no! Why me?'

  'Because we cannot conceivably ask one of the guests to absent himself; and for Geraldine or me to stay away would cause still greater imbalance between the sexes.'

  'But good gad, I'm the host!'

  'Richard is quite capable of acting as host. You can recover and come down and join the men as soon as we've withdrawn. Now please, George, do not be obdurate.' And with this concession Lord Burford had to be satisfied.

  Reprieve, however, was to come to him unexpectedly.

  At seven-forty-five, the party was beginning to assemble in the drawing room when Merryweather entered and crossed to Lady Burford. 'Excuse me, my lady.'

  'Yes, Merryweather?'

  'Bates has been on the telephone from the lodge, my lady. There seems to have been an accident on the road outside.'

  'Oh dear! Has anybody been seriously hurt?'

  'Reportedly not, your ladyship. The occupants of the vehicle were a French lady and her chauffeur. The chauffeur is unhurt; the lady merely shaken. But it seems the motor car has been extensively damaged. Bates has telephoned to Jenkins in the village and he is sending a break-down vehicle. But the lady will plainly be unable to proceed on her journey this evening. Her name apparently is the Baroness de la Roche. As the only accommodation in the village is the Rose & Crown . . .' Merryweather paused diplomatically.

  'Why, of course. Send Hawkins down to the lodge and instruct Bates to give the Baroness my compliments and tell her his lordship and I shall be delighted if she will join us. Have a bedroom prepared and lay another place at table.'

  'Very good, your ladyship.'

  Lady Burford lowered her voice. 'And tell his lordship not to count his chickens yet, but he'd better start dressing just in case. Understand?'

  'His lordship is counselled to refrain from enumerating poultry, but is recommended to be in a state of preparedness to descend for dinner. Yes, my lady.'

  Merryweather went out and Lady Burford turned to Geraldine. 'Baroness de la Roche. Ever heard of her?'

  Gerry shook her head. 'French, did Merry say?'

  'That was merely Bates's guess, I imagine.'

  'I've got a very good friend called the Baroness von Richburg,' Algy said. 'She's German. Charming woman. I stayed at her Schloss in Bavaria a few years ago. Had a spirting time. Her chef produced the most terrific apfelstrudel. I used to eat mountains of it. Unfortunately, after a few days the Baroness was called away suddenly to a sick relative and she shut up the place, so I had to leave. However—'

  'Has anyone else ever heard of a Baroness de la Roche?' Lady Burford asked loudly and desperately.

  Neither the Peabody's nor Thornton, the only others present, had; nor had Jane or Deveraux, who entered a minute later. So there was quite an air of expectancy in the room by the time Merryweather opened the drawing room door and announced: 'The Baroness de la Roche.'

  There was an almost theatrical four-second pause. Then there walked into the room the most beautiful woman Jane had ever seen. She had a flawless complexion, deep limpid eyes of a most remarkable violet, with thick, long natural lashes, a perfectly straight nose, and softly up-curving lips, exactly outlined in the most delicate shade of lipstick. She was wearing a russet sports suit and a Tyrolean hat, decorated with a long feather, perched on the side of her head. At first glance she looked about thirty, though after closer study Lady Burford estimated her age as seven or eight years older than that.

  The Baroness took two or three steps forward, conveying at the same moment an impression of being quite assured yet rather shaky on her feet.

  Lady Burford went up to her, introduced herself and Geraldine, and said: 'Welcome to Alderley.'

  'Oh, Lady Burford, Lady Geraldine, a thousand apologies for gate-crashing your home in this way.' She spoke with the very slightest of French accents. The voice, warm, vibrant, slightly husky, had the barest trace of a tremor.

  'Not at all. We're only too glad to be able to h
elp. What a ghastly experience! You must have been terribly shocked. Come and sit down.' She led the Baroness to a chair.

  'Really, you are too kind. I am most grateful.'

  'Now, I'm sure you need something to drink.'

  'Well.' The Baroness gave the ghost of a smile. 'Perhaps a little cognac, if you have some.'

  'Of course.' Lady Burford looked at Merryweather and raised one eyebrow. He bowed his head and withdrew.

  'Are you sure you're not hurt?' Lady Burford asked.

  'Quite sure, thank you. I feel just rather shaken.'

  'And your chauffeur,' Gerry put in, 'is he all right?'

  The Baroness looked up at her. 'Roberts? Yes, he seems perfectly well.'

  'Yet the car is badly wrecked?'

  'He seems to think it will require considerable repair work.'

  'How did the accident happen?'

  'I really couldn't say. I am afraid I was dozing in the back when suddenly there was a swerve and the next thing I knew we were in the ditch.'

  At that moment, Merryweather returned with the brandy. The Baroness sipped it gratefully and Lady Burford said: 'Do you feel capable of introductions? It will make it easier to remember everybody if you can meet people in two instalments, as it were.'

  'Yes, I am dying to meet all these charming people.'

  Lady Burford briskly performed introductions, carefully forestalling Algy from starting a conversation with the Baroness. Then she said: 'That simply leaves my husband, his brother, and two other—' she had been about to say 'foreign,' but with an obscure idea that it sounded vaguely insulting, amended this— 'two other overseas visitors we have with us.'

  'I shall look forward to meeting them.'

  Deveraux asked: 'Were you intending to travel far tonight?'

  She favoured him with a flashing smile. 'To Worcestershire. I am on my way to stay with some friends of mine there: Lord and Lady Darnley. Perhaps you know them?'

  'You are a friend of the Darnleys?' There was a subtle but immediate change in Lady Burford's manner. The Baroness was no longer just an unknown stranger: she was a friend of friends - accredited. It made a difference.