Footsteps in the Dark Read online

  When this was recounted to the others it afforded them considerable amusement, but when Peter said: ‘I never met such an ass in my life,’ Charles reproved him. ‘He’s doing well,’ he said, selecting a walnut from the dish. ‘Much better than I expected. I admit his Boy Scout stunts are a little obvious, but look at his ready wit! When old Titmarsh discovered him in ambush, did his presence of mind desert him? Not at all. He said he wanted to look for moths too. That’s what I call masterly.’

  ‘I think myself,’ said Mrs Bosanquet, carefully rolling up her table-napkin, ‘that we were very wise to call him in. Not that I consider him efficient, for I do not, but ever since he took the matter in hand we have heard nothing out of the way in the house. No doubt whoever it was who caused us all the annoyance knows he is on the watch and will trouble us no more.’

  ‘No one could fail to know it,’ said Peter. ‘During the three days when he sojourned with us he so closely tracked and interrogated everyone who came to the house that the whole countryside must have known that we’d called him in. I’m beginning to feel positively sheepish about it. The villagers are all on the broad grin.’

  ‘I don’t care what the villagers think,’ Celia said. ‘We did the only sensible thing. Other people don’t grin. The Colonel told me he thought it was a very wise precaution.’

  ‘You didn’t tell him why we did it, I hope?’ Peter said.

  ‘No, but I don’t really see why we should keep it so dark. I merely said we’d heard noises, and Bowers was getting the wind-up so much that something had to be done.’

  ‘The reason why we should keep it dark,’ explained her brother patiently, ‘is, as I’ve told you at least six times…’

  ‘Seven,’ said Charles. ‘This makes the eighth. And I’ve told her three – no, let me see…’

  ‘Shut up!’ said Celia. ‘I know what you’re going to say. If we tell one person he or she will repeat it, and it’ll get round to the person who did it all. Well, why not?’

  ‘I should be guided by what your husband says, my dear,’ said Mrs Bosanquet. ‘The least said the better, I am sure. And if the Colonel’s coming in to coffee and bridge with you this evening we had better move into the drawing-room, for he may arrive at any moment.’

  The party accordingly adjourned, and in a few minutes Bowers announced Colonel Ackerley.

  ‘Upon my soul,’ the Colonel said, accepting the coffee Peter handed him, and a glass of old brandy, ‘I must say I hope you people won’t allow yourselves to be scared away from the Priory. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have any neighbours.’ He bowed gallantly to Celia. ‘And such charming ones too.’ He sipped his liqueur. ‘It’s a great boon to a lonely old bachelor like myself to be able to pop in for a quiet rubber in the evenings.’

  ‘Think how nice it is for us to have such a friendly neighbour,’ Celia smiled. ‘So often people who live in the country get stuffy, and won’t call on newcomers till they’ve been in the place for years.’

  ‘Well, when one has knocked about the world as I have, one gets over all that sort of rubbish!’ replied the Colonel. ‘Never had any use for stand-offishness. Aha, Miss Fortescue, I see you are preparing for the engagement. What do you say? Shall we two join forces and have our revenge on Mr and Mrs Malcolm?’

  Margaret had swept the cards round in a semi-circle. ‘Yes, do let’s!’ she agreed. ‘We owe them one for our awful defeat last time we played. Shall we cut for seats?’

  They took their places at the table, and as the cards were dealt the Colonel bethought himself of something, and said with his ready laugh: ‘By the way, what have you done with your watchdog? Give you my word I was expecting him to pounce out on me at any moment, for I strolled across the park to get here.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve diverted him,’ Charles answered. ‘Our nerves wouldn’t stand it any longer.’

  ‘Besides, he’s done the trick,’ Celia said. ‘Bowers, whose faith in him is really touching, seems to be settling down quite happily. If I did this, I shall say a spade.’

  The game proceeded in silence for some time, but at the end of the rubber the Colonel reverted to the subject, and cocking a quizzical eyebrow in Charles’ direction said: ‘By the by, Malcolm, have you been setting your sleuth on to old Titmarsh? Oh, you needn’t mind telling me! I shan’t give you away!’

  ‘We had to get rid of him somehow,’ Peter said. ‘So we thought Titmarsh would keep him well occupied.’

  This seemed to amuse the Colonel considerably, but after his first outburst of laughter he said: ‘But you don’t think old Titmarsh has been playing jokes on you, do you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Peter. ‘It was our Mr Flinders who thought he ought to be watched. All very providential.’

  ‘Well, if he discovers anything against the old boy, I’ll eat my hat,’ the Colonel declared.

  Shortly after eleven he took his leave of them, and in a little while the girls and Mrs Bosanquet went up to bed. Having bolted the drawing-room windows, the men prepared to follow them, and in another hour the house was dark and silent.

  Mrs Bosanquet, who had been troubled lately with slight insomnia, was the only one of the party who failed to go to sleep. After lying awake for what seemed to her an interminable time she decided that the room was stuffy, and got up to open the window, which she still kept shut in case anyone should attempt to effect an entrance by that way. ‘But that is all put a stop to now,’ she told herself, as she climbed back into bed.

  The opening of the window seemed to make matters worse. At the end of another twenty minutes sleep seemed farther off than ever. Mrs Bosanquet felt for the matches on the table beside her bed, and lit her candle. She looked round for something to read, but since she was not in the habit of reading in bed there were no books in the room. It at once seemed to her imperative that she should read for a while, and she sat up, debating whether she should venture down to the library in search of a suitable book, or whether this simple act demanded more courage than she possessed. There was a tin of sweet biscuits in the library, she remembered, and the recollection made her realise that she was quite hungry. ‘Now I come to think of it,’ Mrs Bosanquet informed the bedpost, ‘my dear mother used always to say that if one could not sleep it was a good plan to eat a biscuit. Though,’ she added conscientiously, ‘she did not in general approve of eating anything once one had brushed one’s teeth for the night.’

  The tin of biscuits began to seem more and more desirable. Mrs Bosanquet lay down again, sternly resolved to think of something else. But it was no use. Biscuits, very crisp and sweet, would not be banished from her mind, and at the end of another ten minutes Mrs Bosanquet would have faced untold dangers to get one.

  She got out of bed and put on her dressing-gown. It occurred to her that she might wake Peter, whose room was opposite hers, and ask him to go down to the library for her, but she dismissed this pusillanimous idea at once. Mrs Bosanquet was a lady who prided herself upon her levelheadedness; she did not believe in ghosts; and she would feel very much ashamed to think that anyone should suspect her of being too nervous to walk downstairs alone in the middle of the night.

  ‘Nerves,’ Mrs Bosanquet was in the habit of saying severely, ‘were never encouraged when I was young.’

  ‘I shall go quietly downstairs, get a biscuit to eat, and select a book from the shelves without disturbing anyone,’ she said firmly, and picked up her candle.

  The lamp had been turned out in the passage, and since there was no moon the darkness seemed intense. Another woman might have paused, but Mrs Bosanquet was not afraid of the dark. ‘What would alarm me,’ she reflected, ‘would be a light burning; for then I should know that someone was in the house.’

  But the ground-floor was as dark as the upper storey. Mrs Bosanquet went cautiously downstairs with one hand on the baluster-rail, and the other holding her candle up. The stairs creaked annoyingly, and in the stillness each creak sounded abnormally loud. Mrs Bosanquet murmured: ‘Tut-tut!’ to