The Prisoner in the Castle by Susan Elia MacNeal

Author:Susan Elia MacNeal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2018-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

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The table seemed much larger with two of their usual party absent, the empty mahogany chairs grim reminders of those lost.

Gazing around the room, Maggie realized Leo hadn’t quite washed off all the dirt from his cheek, Camilla’s golden hair was frizzing in the humidity, Sayid was unshaven, Torvald’s bow tie was askew, Teddy’s jacket was wearing at the elbows, and Anna’s dress had frayed cuffs. Quentin appeared as elegant as usual, but there were purple smudges of weariness under his eyes. Maggie realized her own bun was slipping out of place and tried to pin it back up.

Outside the blacked-out windows, they could hear the thunder rumble. As the chandelier lights flickered, McNaughton began serving cock-a-leekie soup from a steaming tureen and Murdo poured wine. “Where’s Mr. Novak?” Anna’s eyes were on the empty place next to hers. Her voice was high-pitched and nervous.

Where is Mr. Novak? Maggie thought. Surely not another…

“Novak’s probably dead.” Leo examined his fingernails. “No reason to let the soup get cold.” He picked up his spoon and tucked in.

“That’s horrible!” Anna protested.

“When was the last time anyone saw him?” Maggie asked. “Teddy?”

“We went upstairs together to change. But he went to his room and I went to mine. I came down alone.”

“Do you want to head the search party?” Leo challenged Maggie. “Go ahead—no one’s stopping you.”

Camilla unfolded her napkin in her lap. “I think we should wait for Mr. Novak.”

“Suit yourself,” Torvald replied. He, too, began to eat. “I’m starving,” he managed through a mouthful. “Besides, any one of us might be stabbed by a fish fork at any moment. No reason to go hungry.”

“A fish fork—how dreadfully middle class,” drawled Leo.

“Champagne bottle over the head then,” Quentin offered.

“What’s a fish fork?” Anna asked.

“Unnecessary cutlery,” Maggie responded.

“Traditionally, one uses small pinchers for the snake course,” Leo joked. Anna looked as though she didn’t know whether to believe him.

“Well, it sounds as if your little adventure wasn’t fruitful,” Quentin said. He hadn’t touched his food, Maggie noticed. Maybe, like Anna, he was waiting for the tardy inmate.

“Waste of time,” declared Leo through a mouthful of soup. “As I knew it would be.”

“I suspect there’s someone else here,” Quentin said. “A man smarter and more elusive than we’re giving him credit for.”

“Why do you assume this person’s a man?” Camilla wanted to know. Maggie looked at her sharply. But the blonde’s countenance remained placid.

“Touché. But, think about it—we usually stay on the paths. There are the woods, the mountain. Even the bothies could be inhabited. We’d never know.”

Teddy started in on his soup, a drop staining his lapel. “If there is someone out there, he—or she—is getting very wet.”

“Unless it’s a ghost,” Anna repeated.

“There are no ghosts!” Maggie exclaimed, as the lights flickered again. “Please! Let’s not let our imaginations run away with us,” she amended in gentler tones. “We must keep our heads. We’re trained agents of the SOE.”

“Perhaps we’re being punished for not doing our duty,” Torvald posited. “After

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