Mystery Mile by Margery Allingham

Author:Margery Allingham [Allingham, Margery]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781933397443
Publisher: Felony & Mayhem
Published: 2004-05-14T23:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 16

the wheels go round

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Giles and Isopel were sitting in the window-seat in the morning-room, holding hands.

The sunlight poured in upon them, and the village of Mystery Mile was as peaceful as if nothing untoward had ever happened upon the whole island. They were alone. Biddy was at the Dower House, and Mr Campion off once more upon his investigations in the village.

The rustle of car wheels outside on the drive startled the two, and Isopel, who caught a fleeting glimpse of a putty-coloured body and crimson wings, turned to Giles looking utterly dismayed.

“Oh, my dear,” she said. “He’s come back!”

“Who? Your father?” Giles was ever more physically than mentally alert.

“No. That was Mr Barber.”

The young squire bounced to his feet.

“Good Lord!” he said. “What cheek that chap has! I’ll kick him out.”

He advanced towards the door, but it was open before he reached it. Mr Barber, complete with satchel and the most important smile imaginable, appeared upon the threshold.

“Mr Paget,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let me be the first to congratulate you.”

Giles, taken completely off his guard, reddened and glanced sheepishly at Isopel.

“I don’t know how you knew — ” he began. But Mr Barber was still talking. ”My boy, I have the proof — the proof positive. The thing’s genuine. I should like to arrange for the sale with you.”

It was only at this moment that Giles realized that he had been mistaken and that Mr Barber was not talking about the all-important subject of which his own mind was full.

Isopel slipped her arm through his. “It’s the picture, dear,” she whispered.

“Of course I’m talking about the picture,” said Mr Barber testily. “Come and see it for yourself.” He bustled out of the room as he spoke, leading them into the big cool drawing-room on the other side of the house.

The exquisite period room was seldom used, and a faint musty odour of decayed tapestry and dusty pot-pourri met them as they entered.

The portrait hung over the mantelpiece: a long-dead Mistress Paget, who smiled at them with foolish sweetness from out of her monstrous gold frame. She wore a diaphanous scarf over her golden hair, and one slender hand caressed a little white dog who nestled in the folds of her oyster-coloured gown.

Mr Barber was visibly excited. “As soon as I saw it,” he said, turning to them, his eyes watering profusely, “I said to myself, ‘This is the moment of my career, this is the moment for which I have always longed. Here is an undiscovered Romney, one of the finest I have ever seen.’ Now I must see Judge Lobbett immediately and make my report. I’m afraid my poor little Cotmans sink into obscurity beside this master.”

“Look here,” said Giles, managing to get a word in when Mr Barber paused to breathe, “this is all very fine and large, but you don’t seem to understand. We can’t be bothered with little things like this just now. You don’t appear to have grasped the fact that Mr Lobbett has disappeared.

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