Owen Burns 01 The Lord of Misrule by Paul Halter

Author:Paul Halter [Halter, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781453897973
Amazon: 1453897976
Barnesnoble: 1453897976
Goodreads: 9617267
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Published: 1993-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

13

A RED CHRISTMAS At midnight, the church bells rang out clearly and joyously in the bitter cold, their distant sound reaching us as the culmination of an emotional Christmas Eve. The mulled wine had warmed the atmosphere, had brought colour to the cheeks, had prompted shy smiles, and had loosened tongues. We welcomed warmly the traditional turkey and plum pudding prepared by the faithful Mary. Even the habitually mournful face of the lugubrious Julius Morganstone wore a smile; after a second glass of champagne he had announced that it would be pointless to attempt another séance that night. For the time being, I—and apparently the others, too—had forgotten the agonizing mystery that hung over our heads. Sibyl alone had seemed to remember, as she stole the occasional furtive glance at the windows. But there had been no reason for her to cry out in fear or in surprise. That night, the Lord of Misrule showed neither his dark silhouette nor his deathly white face; nor was there the slightest sound of tiny bells.

Did anyone think of him the following day, seated around the table enjoying the excellent Christmas feast of suckling pig? I doubt it. But after the meal, while I was congratulating the cook, there was again talk of the mysterious “spirit” and the message it had promised to transmit. A séance was to be arranged for that very evening, Julius Morganstone having announced that he sensed it would be fruitful. He had just made the announcement when Mary withdrew discreetly, having thanked me for my lavish – and well-deserved – compliments. I had turned my back to the table to speak to her, and as I watched her go I couldn’t help thinking what a lucky fellow Dudley was. As I turned back, I noticed out of the corner of my eye something remiss in the glass-fronted bookcase. Where the scintillating Spanish blade which I had so much admired had lain was an empty space.

Had it been taken for a purpose? Or had it simply been misplaced? And how long had it been gone? For a moment I considered investigating the matter, but then concluded it would be best to do nothing. My fears were no doubt groundless and would only serve to disrupt the happy proceedings.

The afternoon was given over to whist. My partner was Miss Piggott who turned out to be very skilful. Sibyl made several careless mistakes which her partner and fiancé forgave her with an obvious condescension. Daphne, who was partnered with her father, seemed to be enjoying herself despite his obvious lack of ability.

Night fell. After dinner, pleading a headache, I retired to my room to reflect about what had happened. I remembered Owen’s words of the other evening: “The fact that he wants to speak to Piggott intrigues me enormously.” He had laid heavy emphasis on those words. Owen had been quicker than I to envisage Piggott’s involvement in Edwin’s murder. But had he just been talking about the “spirit’s” message or

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