[Mrs Bradley 45] - A Hearse on May Day by Gladys Mitchell

Author:Gladys Mitchell [Mitchell, Gladys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781448190478
Google: xkpZ8mYS6DAC
Goodreads: 18001235
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 1972-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Witch’s Sabbath

‘A-hunting she goes;

A crackt horne she blowes;

A which the hounds fall a-bounding;

While th’ Moone in her sphere

Peepes trembling for feare,

And night’s afraid of the sounding.’

Robert Herrick – The Hagg

* * *

Upon receiving Fenella’s frantic telephone call on the following morning Dame Beatrice acted promptly.

‘Are you at the inn?’ she asked.

‘No, I couldn’t telephone from there, and, in any case, I wouldn’t have dared. I’m with Miriam and Hubert at Douston. I’ve let Nicholas know that I didn’t feel I could spend another night at the More to Come.’

‘You have done wisely to leave, I think. Has anybody there any knowledge of what you have seen in the cellar?’

‘I don’t think so. I pulled myself together when I got back to my room, then I went to the reception desk and checked out. As I’m only booked from day to day it was quite easy, and I don’t believe they were all that sorry to see the back of me. Unwisely, in the opinion of Nicholas, I let out, a day or two ago, that I had been there in the Shurrocks’ time. He covered up for me very quickly, but I expect somebody in the village has recognised me and given it away that I spent Mayering Night at the pub.’

‘I will come along to Douston at once. I have made little progress at the manor house and shall be glad to talk things over with you. It will be interesting to compare notes, because I think your mystery impinges on mine and by this time I have no doubt that a connection exists between them.’

‘Miriam invites you to stay the night, great-aunt. You will, won’t you? Anyway, I don’t see how you can get back to the manor house after dinner unless you want to travel in the dark and knock your people up in the small hours.’

Dame Beatrice had received the telephone message at ten in the morning of the day which followed Fenella’s flight from Seven Wells. She explained to her hostess, Sir Bathy’s widow, that she had received an urgent summons from a relative, and would be back at the manor house in a couple of days’ time. She lunched in Cridley and, her chauffeur scorning the byroads in which Fenella delighted, arrived at Douston Hall in time for tea.

‘I am reminded,’ she said, ‘of a passage in a light novel by Ian Hay which I read many years ago. The hero was taking tea with an elderly Scottish lady and remarked upon what good bread and butter she always kept. May I pass on the compliment, my dear Miriam?’

‘Thanks,’ said Miriam, ‘but Hubert always cuts it when we have visitors. He won’t leave it to the maids.’

‘Cutting bread and butter is the only thing I do really well, Aunt Adela,’ said Hubert. ‘And now do put an end to our extreme curiosity and tell us exactly what you’ve been up to in Seven Wells. When you left us after Fenella’s wedding, we understood

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