The Horror of Haglin House by M.R.C. Kasasian

Author:M.R.C. Kasasian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2023-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

36: DRAPES, BANDAGES AND BETRAYAL

THE SMELL HIT me the moment I set foot in that room. It reminded me of my lovely visit to Lower Montford.

Lovely? Friendless echoed incredulously. Int nothin’ lovely ’bout…

What on earth are you doing here? I demanded, but did not wait for him to explain that he was wandering around my cerebrum questioning my use of adjectives. Inspector, I called. Do your duty.

Hefty appeared from behind the sulcus where he had crouched in readiness.

Right chum. He marched up to the cabby. This is a private brain and if you are not off the premises in one minute flat…

Friendless put up his hands – All right… All right I’m goin’ – and slunk off, and I could not help but feel a little sorry for him. He had washed and combed his hair and even put on a smoking jacket for the occasion. Perhaps he had been hoping to shed his name.

Dolores Poynder raised her head. That and her right arm were all that was visible of her above the sheets and blankets, and then not clearly in the gloom.

‘Who are you?’ she asked huskily.

‘I am a well-wisher.’

‘Do I know you?’

‘We have a mutual acquaintance,’ I told her, taking the key out and slipping it away. Agnust had been revolted when she had found that I had a pocket in my dress. Pockets were for men. What next, she had demanded? Would I start growing a beard? A goatee might be fetching, I had taunted her, hoping that a genie had not heard. I still remembered the time that my wish had been mis-fulfilled by a mastiff called Prince jumping up and slobbering over me.

The room was sparsely furnished even for what must have been a maid’s quarters. Apart from the unadorned bed there was a pine chest in front of the curtained window to my left. It had a plain wash bowl and jug resting upon it but no ornaments or pictures. Agnust had framed photographic prints on hers but I had only glimpsed them as I passed, not being allowed into her quarters, for servants had more privacy than their mistresses. A simple wooden chair stood near the head of the bed and a scrap of possibly Turkish but badly worn carpet on the floorboards. A bird cage stood empty on a stand in the far, right-hand corner and that was it. No bedside table and no evidence of any candles.

I shut the door behind me and stood a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I was not sure what they were waiting for but they were in no hurry to oblige.

‘Who?’ Dolores asked and I scrambled back through my musings.

Your acquaintance, Hefty reminded me. He had been paying attention to the conversation while Ruby had wandered off to have another look at the dresses.

‘Martha Ryan,’ I replied warily. If Mrs Poynder had rejected her one-time friend, she might have reason not to welcome that news.

She raised her head an inch or two more into the little daylight that squeezed in over the top of the drapes.

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