Part 7 (2/2)

'We're on time. Your watch must be wrong,' Tweed said mildly.

'I pride myself on punctuality,' Strangeways barked. 'An old army habit.'

'My watch is an Accurist. Greenwich mean time. Better buy one for yourself,' Tweed rapped back. 'Are we going to stand out here all afternoon in the cold?'

'Of course not. Please do come in.' Their host's manner had mellowed. As he closed the door he lowered his voice. 'My apologies to you both, but my wretched son turned up out of the blue. I'll introduce you, then tell him to push off...'

They followed Strangeways across a large stark hall with woodblock flooring. The only furniture was a large ugly oak chest stood against one wall. No pictures. Strangeways opened a door into a large room, again without a carpet or rugs. Close to the left-hand wall was a plain desk supporting an outsize globe and behind it a map of the world. A heavy oak table occupied the middle of the room and the chairs which surrounded it were hard-backed and looked uncomfortable to Paula. The interior of the house reminded her of a prison.

'This is my son, Rupert,' their host said without enthusiasm.

Sprawled on a couch was a man of about thirty. He wore riding kit with jodhpurs thrust inside gleaming knee-length boots. His right hand held a riding crop which he was tapping against his thigh. His boots were resting on the end of the couch.

'Get those d.a.m.ned boots off the furniture,' Strangeways growled. 'This is a friend of mine with his a.s.sistant, Paula.'

Rupert took his time about planting his boots on the floor. He stood up, five feet eight inches tall, a slim man, his jet-black hair neatly trimmed. He had his father's hawkish nose, his dark eyes alert, and a foxy chin, and he surveyed Paula insolently. She bridled inwardly as he slowly took in her legs, higher up her body and then her face.

'Rather like the look of you, Paula. You're not bad.' 'I'm supposed to take that as a compliment?'

'I take my time.'

Tweed had been studying Rupert, who ignored him. Strangeways guided Tweed to a seat at the table. Standing behind him he stood erect, looking embarra.s.sed. He coughed, glanced at Paula.

'I don't quite know how to phrase this. The last thing I want to do is to appear impolite.'

'But you'd prefer it if the two of you, could talk alone,' Paula suggested with a smile.

'My dear, there's a library on your left as you go back into the hall. If you're interested in books it's quite an unusual collection I've built up over the years.'

'I'd be happy to wait there.'

'Not so fast.' He went over to the wall, pressed an old-fas.h.i.+oned bell. 'The housekeeper, Mrs Belloc, can provide you with tea and cakes. Indian, Darjeeling, Earl Grey? And I'd better warn you Mrs Belloc is an odd character. Goes around with a black shawl over her head. A hard worker but it's difficult keeping local servants. They don't like her. Ah, here she is.'

Paula had a shock. When the door opened a short powerfully built woman walked slowly in. The black shawl was worn so it concealed most of her features, exposing only gimlet eyes and a nose like a parrot's. A black dress reached almost to her ankles. There was something sinister about her.

'You wanted me, sir?' she asked, addressing her employer.

Strangeways gave her instructions to serve Paula tea in the library. Mrs Belloc was staring at Tweed while she listened. Then she withdrew without a word.

Rupert opened the door again, bowed in an exaggerated way. He was smiling sardonically. Without a backward glance at the two men in the room, he closed the door and caught up with Paula.

'You don't want to waste your time in the library. Let's go riding. I can give you a gentle nag.'

'I want to see the library. And Mrs Belloc is bringing me tea.'

'Never read a book in my life,' he replied jauntily, following her as she opened the door on her left.

'Might do you good if you did read a few.'

'I seem to get by without them.'

She was already inside a large room, the walls lined with bookcases. A wheeled ladder was attached to one wall so the high shelves could be reached easily. Nondescript coffee tables were scattered round the room near large leather couches which looked as though they'd been there for generations. The room was chilly. She pulled out a book on Alexander the Great and perched at the end of a couch. Rupert joined her.

'You'll end up with that old horror, Mrs Belloc, for company. I'm much more fun.'

'I'm sure you are.'

'Please yourself, then,' he said acidly. 'Bury your nose in a crummy book. You don't know what you're missing. We could shoot a few birds instead of riding.'

'That idea doesn't appeal to me.'

'Playing hard to get.' He stood up. 'Have it your own way.'

It was a relief to Paula when he left the room, closing the door behind him. Something caught her eye. She looked at a side window, jumped up, ran into the mullioned bay. Outside was Harry Butler, one finger to his lips. Behind him a trim lawn stretched away to a hedge and beyond it was a field. Wrestling with the old security catch, she pushed open a cas.e.m.e.nt window.

'What on earth are you doing out there?'

'Prowling. And keeping an eye on Tweed. Newman's orders. Got over the side wall with a telescopic ladder he carries in the boot of his car.'

'Get out of sight! Quick! The housekeeper is bringing me tea...'

'I'll have a cuppa,' said Butler and was gone.

She was struggling to close the window, had just managed it, when she heard a sound. She hadn't heard the door open but now she heard the sound she had heard when Mrs Belloc entered the other room earlier. The rustle of the stiff black material she wore as a dress. Paula froze.

'Wouldn't have anything to do with him if I were you,' a harsh voice advised.

For a tense moment she thought the housekeeper was referring to Butler. Then, in the field beyond the hedge, she saw Rupert riding a large stallion. He reined in his mount suddenly. It bucked, reared into the air. Rupert stayed in the saddle, waved his whip at her as his steed's forelegs dropped to the ground.

'Showing off, as usual,' Mrs Belloc complained.

Paula turned round and the squat hooded woman was laying on a table a sparkling silver tray containing the tea. The tray looked genuine and Paula guessed it was an heirloom. It was difficult to imagine Strangeways bothering to purchase the tray.

'Milk and sugar in your tea?'

'Just milk, please. This is very kind of you. And the cakes look scrumptious.'

Mrs Belloc showed no inclination to leave as Paula sat down.

She had closed the door when she came into the library and now she stood close to Paula as she perched on the couch and sampled the tea. Her large, ugly hands were clasped across her middle, her penetrating eyes fixed on Paula.

'This tea is perfect,' said Paula. 'Thank you.'

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