Even the Professor, who restricted himself to one whisky-and-soda a day out of deference to his wife’s principles, accepted the proffered drink gratefully. Lugg hung about, apparently seeking an opening for conversation.
‘They ain’t ’alf doing ’Is Nibs proud downstairs,’ he said. ‘I’ve bin ’elping that girl I took a fancy to to clean the silver all the afternoon. Old Branch didn’t take ’is eyes off me the ’ole time. If ’e counted them spoons once ’e counted ’em a dozen times. I couldn’t ’elp pinchin’ this.’ He laid a delicate pair of Georgian sugar-tongs on the dressing-table with a certain pride.
His master looked at him in disgust. ‘Don’t lay your filthy bone at my feet,’ he said. ‘What do you expect me to do with it?’
‘Put it back for me,’ said Mr Lugg unabashed. ‘It won’t look so bad if you get noticed. I’ve got me record to think of. There’s nothing in writin’ against you.’
‘Go away,’ said Campion. ‘I’m going to sell you to a designer of children’s cuddle-toys. You can pack my things after tea, by the way. We go back to Town tomorrow morning.’
‘Then you’ve finished?’ said the Professor, looking up.
Campion nodded. ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘They’ll stick to their rules, you know. Their employee is dead; that finishes it. I was talking to old poker-back downstairs. He’s convinced we shall hear no more from them. The Maharajah has had his turn. They’re connoisseurs more than criminals, you see. This is so definitely not one of their successes that I should think they’ll turn their attention to Continental museums again for a bit.’
‘I see.’ The Professor was silent for some moments. Then he frowned. ‘I wonder –’ he began, and hesitated.
Campion seemed to understand the unspoken thought, for he turned to Lugg.
‘You can go back to Audrey,’ he said. ‘Any more thieving, and I’ll tell her about the picture of Greta Garbo you keep under your pillow.’
As the door was closed behind the disconsolate and still inquisitive Lugg, the Professor remained silent, and Campion went on.
‘I couldn’t understand why my precious boss downstairs hadn’t told me about the second Chalice at the beginning,’ he said. ‘I see it now. He’s a man of very conservative ideas, and after the awe-inspiring oath of secrecy I suppose he thought he had no alternative but to let me find it out for myself. That complicated things at the start, but I’m not sure it didn’t make it easier for us in the long run.’
The Professor nodded absently. His mind was still dwelling upon the experience of the afternoon.
‘What a lovely, lovely thing,’ he said. ‘I may sound a bit inhuman, but when I looked at that Chalice today, it occurred to me that probably in the last fifteen hundred years it has cost the lives of Heaven knows how many thieves and envious people, by looking at it. Campion, do you know, I thought it was worth it.’
Mr Campion did not answer. The thought in his mind was one that had rankled ever since he had stood with the others in that little painted cell, looking in at the Chalice and its guardian. What had Mrs Dick seen when she had looked in the window that had differed from their own experience? She had been no easily frightened woman, nor was hers an imaginative nature. He spoke aloud, almost without realizing it.
‘What exactly did she see when she looked through that window? Why did she say “no”? Who did she say it to? Just what was it that made her let go?’
He paused. Outside on the lawn the chatter of feminine voices was coming nearer. Mr Campion was still puzzled.
‘I don’t understand it,’ he said.
The Professor glanced up at him. ‘Oh, that?’ he said. ‘That’s quite obvious. The light was shining directly upon the figure. The head was raised to the window, if you remember.’
‘Yes, but –’ said Mr Campion, and was silent.
‘Yes,’ said the Professor thoughtfully, ‘I think it’s perfectly clear. On the night of the birthday, when she looked in, the visor was up. She saw his face … I’m afraid it may be a very shocking sight.’
‘But she spoke,’ said Mr Campion. ‘She spoke as if she was replying to someone. And I heard something, I swear it.’
The Professor leant forward in his chair and spoke with unusual emphasis. ‘My very dear boy,’ he said, ‘I’ll say this. It doesn’t do to dwell on these things.’
The gentle clangour of the gong in the hall below broke in upon the silence.
Also available in Vintage Murder Mysteries
MARGERY ALLINGHAM
Death of a Ghost
‘A rare and precious talent’
Washington Post
John Lafcadio’s ambition to be known as the greatest painter since Rembrandt was not to be thwarted by a matter as trifling as his own death. A set of twelve sealed paintings is the bequest he leaves to his widow – together with the instruction that she unveil one canvas each year before a carefully selected audience.
Albert Campion is among the cast of gadabouts, muses and socialites gathered for the latest ceremony – but art is the last thing on the sleuth’s mind when a brutal stabbing occurs….
Also available in Vintage Murder Mysteries
MARGERY ALLINGHAM
Dancers in Mourning
‘Margery Allingham has worked her way up to a worthy place among the tiny hierarchy of front-rankers in the detective world’ Tatler
When song-and-dance star Jimmy Sutane falls victim to a string of malicious practical jokes, there’s only one man who can get to the bottom of the apparent vendetta against the music hall darling – Albert Campion.
Soon, however, the backstage pranks escalate and an ageing starlet is killed.
Under pressure to uncover the culprit, and plagued by his growing feelings for Sutane’s wife, Campion finds himself uncomfortably embroiled in an investigation which tests his ingenuity and integrity to the limit…
VINTAGE MURDER MYSTERIES
With the sign of a human skull upon its back and a melancholy shriek emitted when disturbed, the Death’s Head Hawkmoth has for centuries been a bringer of doom and an omen of death – which is why we chose it as the emblem for our Vintage Murder Mysteries.
Some say that its appearance in King George Ill’s bedchamber pushed him into madness. Others believe that should its wings extinguish a candle by night, those nearby will be cursed with blindness. Indeed its very name, Acherontia atropos, delves into the most sinister realms of Greek mythology: Acheron, the River of Pain in the underworld, and Atropos, the Fate charged with severing the thread of life.
The perfect companion, then, for our Vintage Murder Mysteries sleuths, for whom sinister occurrences are never far away and murder is always just around the corner …
MORE VINTAGE MURDER MYSTERIES
EDMUND CRISPIN
Buried for Pleasure
The Case of the Gilded Fly
Swan Song
A. A. MILNE
The Red House Mystery
GLADYS MITCHELL
Speedy Death
The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop
The Longer Bodies
The Saltmarsh Murders
Death at the Opera
The Devil at Saxon Wall
Dead Men’s Morris
Come Away, Death
St Peter’s Finger
Brazen Tongue
Hangman’s Curfew
When Last I Died
Laurels Are Poison
Here Comes a Chopper
Death and the Maiden
Tom Brown’s Body
Groaning Spinney
The Devil’s Elbow
The Echoing Strangers
Watson’s Choice
The Twenty-Third Man
Spotted Hemlock
My Bones Will Keep
Three Quick and Five Dead
Dance to Your Daddy
A Hearse on May-Day
Late, Late in the Evening
Fault in the Structure
Nest of Vipers
&nb
sp; MARGERY ALLINGHAM
Mystery Mile
Police at the Funeral
Sweet Danger
Flowers for the Judge
The Case of the Late Pig
The Fashion in Shrouds
Traitor’s Purse
Coroner’s Pidgin
More Work for the Undertaker
The Tiger in the Smoke
The Beckoning Lady
Hide My Eyes
The China Governess
The Mind Readers
Cargo of Eagles
E. F. BENSON
The Blotting Book
The Luck of the Vails
NICHOLAS BLAKE
A Question of Proof
Thou Shell of Death
There’s Trouble Brewing
The Beast Must Die
The Smiler With the Knife
Malice in Wonderland
The Case of the Abominable Snowman
Minute for Murder
Head of a Traveller
The Dreadful Hollow
The Whisper in the Gloom
End of Chapter
The Widow’s Cruise
The Worm of Death
The Sad Variety
The Morning After Death
* * *
If you have enjoyed this book, you might like to know about the Margery Allingham Society which has members throughout the world. The Society:
• meets several times a year to explore aspects of Margery Allingham’s life, work, family and interests;
• organises residential weekend conventions every few years;
• publishes a twice-yearly journal, The Bottle Street Gazette, with articles on Margery Allingham’s life and novels and, occasionally, some of her writing; it has also published several books about her work;
• keeps in touch with members through its regular newsletter, From the Glueworks.
You can follow us on Facebook at
The Margery Allingham Society
Or to find out how to join, write to us at
[email protected]
or visit our website
www.margeryallingham.org.uk
which has up-to-date information about how to get in touch by post
* * *
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781448192151
www.randomhouse.co.uk
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Vintage
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA
Vintage is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
Copyright © Margery Allingham 1931
Margery Allingham has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
First published in Great Britain by Jarrolds in 1931
www.vintage-books.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099593522
www.vintage-books.co.uk
Look to the Lady Page 25
