Turn of the Table by Jonathan Stagge

Author:Jonathan Stagge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2021-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

After the french windows had closed behind them the rest of us stared at each other. I, for one, had no idea of what had motivated this violent scene. If any of the others were better informed they showed no desire to communicate their knowledge.

It was, in a way, as awkward a moment as any in the course of that long evening. I glanced at my watch and was astonished that it should be only a few minutes after eleven. It seemed incredible that so much action could have been sandwiched in between dinner and highball time.

The first move came from Comstock. The lawyer had received Greg Bannister’s strange order with surprising determined calm. I would have expected nervous collapse.

With a dry, dignified nod at me he said:

“You’ll excuse me, I know.”

He left the room then, not by the french windows, as I had imagined he would, but through the door leading to the hall.

Linette was still sitting apart on the piano stool. I found myself virtually alone with Mrs. Deane.

In spite of the brittle surface brightness on her face I could tell that she would have given a great deal not to have someone there who had to be “coped with.”

But since she could not ignore me, she said:

“Well, Doctor Westlake, this is quite an active evening, isn’t it? So much seems to be happening.”

“Things certainly do happen around here,” I said, and looking straight at her I pointed to my lint bandage.

“This,” I said, “is one of the things that happened. Perhaps you can guess what it is?”

Her eyes settled on the patch; she went rather pale.

“You—you cut yourself shaving perhaps?”

“No, Mrs. Deane. I didn’t cut myself. Any more than you cut yourself. You know perfectly well that I saw those scars when I took the velvet band off your neck. I didn’t say anything about it then, but I’ve got to now because the same thing happened to me this evening.”

She was staring at me, struggling for control.

“You’ve got to tell me what it’s all about,” I said. “Who is it that does this? Who is it that bit—”

“Stop!” The word came sharp as a needle. “Not here, not in front of Linette. Please!”

She looked around her rather wildly, then, unsteadily, she put a hand on my arm.

“Come to the dining room, Doctor Westlake.”

She drew me across the hall into the long, feudal refectory where I had dined on my first acquaintance with the Bannisters.

Mrs. Deane glanced over her shoulder and then said:

“I’m sorry, Doctor Westlake. I can’t tell you anything yet. But if you just trust me everything will be all right.”

Her face, worn and lined, pleaded helplessness.

“You’ve got to trust me, Doctor Westlake.”

I was, of course, no nearer to the truth than I had been before. But I felt it would be cruel to force her that night.

“All right,” I said. “Just so long as I can walk around the garden without getting—bitten again.”

“Yes, yes, it’ll be all right. I promise.”

She managed a wan smile.

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