Part 3 (2/2)

”Last evening, your lords.h.i.+p,” the secretary said promptly. ”My lord was always particular about that. The suite was always to be swept and cleaned during the dinner hour.”

”Then this must have rolled under the bed at some time after dinner.

Do you recognize it? The design is distinctive.”

The Privy Secretary looked carefully at the b.u.t.ton in the palm of Lord Darcy's hand without touching it. ”I ... I hesitate to say,” he said at last. ”It looks like ... but I'm not sure--”

”Come, come, Chevalier! Where do you think you _might_ have seen it?

Or one like it.” There was a sharpness in the tone of his voice.

”I'm not trying to conceal anything, your lords.h.i.+p,” Sir Pierre said with equal sharpness. ”I said I was not sure. I still am not, but it can be checked easily enough. If your lords.h.i.+p will permit me--” He turned and spoke to Dr. Pateley, who was still kneeling by the body.

”May I have my lord the Count's keys, doctor?”

Pateley glanced up at Lord Darcy, who nodded silently. The physician detached the keys from the belt and handed them to Sir Pierre.

The Privy Secretary looked at them for a moment, then selected a small gold key. ”This is it,” he said, separating it from the others on the ring. ”Come with me, your lords.h.i.+p.”

Darcy followed him across the room to a broad wall covered with a great tapestry that must have dated back to the sixteenth century. Sir Pierre reached behind it and pulled a cord. The entire tapestry slid aside like a panel, and Lord Darcy saw that it was supported on a track some ten feet from the floor. Behind it was what looked at first like ordinary oak paneling, but Sir Pierre fitted the small key into an inconspicuous hole and turned. Or, rather, tried to turn.

”That's odd,” said Sir Pierre. ”It's not locked!”

He took the key out and pressed on the panel, shoving sideways with his hand to move it aside. It slid open to reveal a closet.

The closet was filled with women's clothing of all kinds, and styles.

Lord Darcy whistled soundlessly.

”Try that blue robe, your lords.h.i.+p,” the Privy Secretary said. ”The one with the--Yes, that's the one.”

Lord Darcy took it off its hanger. The same b.u.t.tons. They matched. And there was one missing from the front! Torn off! ”Master Sean!” he called without turning.

Master Sean came with a rolling walk. He was holding an oddly-shaped bronze thing in his hand that Sir Pierre didn't quite recognize. The sorcerer was muttering. ”Evil, that there is! Faith, and the vibrations are all over the place. Yes, my lord?”

”Check this dress and the b.u.t.ton when you get round to it. I want to know when the two parted company.”

”Yes, my lord.” He draped the robe over one arm and dropped the b.u.t.ton into a pouch at his belt. ”I can tell you one thing, my lord. You talk about an evil miasma, this room has got it!” He held up the object in his hand. ”There's an underlying background--something that has been here for years, just seeping in. But on top of that, there's a h.e.l.lish big blast of it superimposed. Fresh it is, and very strong.”

”I shouldn't be surprised, considering there was murder done here last night--or very early this morning,” said Lord Darcy.

”Hm-m-m, yes. Yes, my lord, the death is there--but there's something else. Something I can't place.”

”You can tell that just by holding that bronze cross in your hand?”

Sir Pierre asked interestedly.

Master Sean gave him a friendly scowl. ”'Tisn't quite a cross, sir.

<script>