The Seven Dials mystery 19 – Christie · Verses Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
The Seven Dials mystery 19Bundle'S Adventures
18
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
The Seven Dials mystery 19
Bundle'S Adventures
ChristieEnglish
Bundle Brent was a resourceful girl--she was also a girl of imagination. She had foreseen that Bill, if not Jimmy, would make objections to her participation in the possible dangers of the night. It was not Bundle's idea to waste time in argument. She had laid her own plans and made her own arrangements. A glance from her bedroom window shortly before dinner had been highly satisfactory. She had known that the gray walls of the Abbey were plentifully adorned with ivy, but the ivy outside her window was particularly solid looking and would present no difficulties to one of her athletic propensities.
She had no fault to find with Bill's and Jimmy's arrangements as far as they went. But in her opinion they did not go far enough. She offered no criticism, because she intended to see to that side of things herself. Briefly, while Jimmy and Bill were devoting themselves to the inside of the Abbey, Bundle intended to devote her attentions to the outside.
Her own meek acquiescence in the tame rôle assigned to her gave her an infinity of pleasure, though she wondered scornfully how either of the two men could be so easily deceived. Bill, of course, had never been famous for scintillating brain power. On the other hand, he knew, or should know, his Bundle. And she considered that Jimmy Thesiger, though only slightly acquainted with her, ought to have known better than to imagine that she could be so easily and summarily disposed of.
Once in the privacy of her own room, Bundle set rapidly to work. First she discarded her evening dress and the negligible trifle which she wore beneath it, and started again, so to speak, from the foundations. Bundle had not brought her maid with her, and she herself had packed. Otherwise, the puzzled Frenchwoman might have wondered why her lady took a pair of riding breeches and no further equine equipment.
Arrayed in riding breeches, rubber-soled shoes, and a dark-coloured pullover, Bundle was ready for the fray. She glanced at the time. As yet, it was only half-past twelve. Too early by far. Whatever was going to happen would not happen for some time yet. The occupants of the house must all be given time to get off to sleep. Half-past one was the time fixed by Bundle for the start of operations.
She switched off her light and sat down by the window to wait. Punctually at the appointed moment, she rose, pushed up the sash and swung her leg over the sill. The night was a fine one, cold and still. There was starlight but no moon.
She found the descent very easy. Bundle and her two sisters had run wild in the park at Chimneys as small children, and they could all climb like cats. Bundle arrived on a flower-bed, rather breathless, but quite unscathed.
She paused a minute to take stock of her plans. She knew that the rooms occupied by the Air Minister and his secretary were in the west wing; that was the opposite side of the house from where Bundle was now standing. A terrace ran along the south and west side of the house, ending abruptly against a walled fruit garden.
Bundle stepped out of her flower-bed and turned the corner of the house to where the terrace began on the south side. She crept very quietly along it, keeping close to the shadow of the house. But, as she reached the second corner, she got a shock, for a man was standing there, with the clear intention of barring her way.
The next instant she had recognized him.
"Superintendent Battle! You did give me a fright!"
"That's what I'm here for," said the Superintendent pleasantly.
Bundle looked at him. It struck her now, as so often before, how remarkably little camouflage there was about him. He was large and solid and noticeable. He was, somehow, very English. But of one thing Bundle was quite sure. Superintendent Battle was no fool.
"What are you really doing here?" she asked, still in a whisper.
"Just seeing," said Battle, "that nobody's about who shouldn't be."
"Oh!" said Bundle, rather taken aback.
"You, for instance, Lady Eileen. I don't suppose you usually take a walk at this time of night."
"Do you mean," said Bundle slowly, "that you want me to go back?"
Superintendent Battle nodded approvingly.
"You're very quick, Lady Eileen. That's just what I do mean. Did you--er--come out of a door, or the window?"
"The window. It's easy as anything climbing down this ivy."
Superintendent Battle looked up at it thoughtfully.
"Yes," he said. "I should say it would be."
"And you want me to go back?" said Bundle. "I'm rather sick about that. I wanted to go round on to the west terrace."
"Perhaps you won't be the only one who'll want to do that," said Battle.
"Nobody could miss seeing you," said Bundle rather spitefully.
The Superintendent seemed rather pleased than otherwise.
"I hope they won't," he said. "No unpleasantness. That's my motto. And if you'll excuse me, Lady Eileen, I think it's time you were going back to bed."
The firmness of his tone admitted of no parley. Rather crestfallen, Bundle retraced her steps. She was half-way up the ivy when a sudden idea occurred to her, and she nearly relaxed her grip and fell.
Supposing Superintendent Battle suspected her.
There had been something--yes, surely there had been something in his manner that vaguely suggested the idea. She couldn't help laughing as she crawled over the sill into her bedroom. Fancy the solid Superintendent suspecting her!
Though she had so far obeyed Battle's orders as to return to her room, Bundle had no intention of going to bed and sleeping. Nor did she think that Battle had really intended her to do so. He was not a man to expect impossibilities. And to remain quiescent when something daring and exciting might be going on was a sheer impossibility to Bundle.
She glanced at her watch. It was ten minutes to two. After a moment or two of irresolution, she cautiously opened her door. Not a sound. Everything was still and peaceful. She stole cautiously along the passage.
Once she halted, thinking she heard a board creak somewhere, but then convinced that she was mistaken, she went on again. She was now in the main corridor, making her way to the west wing. She reached the angle of intersection and peered cautiously round--then she stared in blank surprise.
The watcher's post was empty. Jimmy Thesiger was not there.
Bundle stared in complete amazement. What had happened? Why had Jimmy left his post? What did it mean?
And at that moment she heard a clock strike two.
She was still standing there, debating what to do next, when suddenly her heart gave a leap and then seemed to stand still.
The door handle of Terence O'Rourke's room was slowly turning.
Bundle watched, fascinated. But the door did not open. Instead the knob returned slowly to its original position. What did it mean?
Suddenly Bundle came to a resolution. Jimmy, for some unknown reason, had deserted his post. She must get hold of Bill.
Quickly and noiselessly, Bundle fled along the way she had come. She burst unceremoniously into Bill's room.
"Bill, wake up! Oh, do wake up!"
It was an urgent whisper she sent forth, but there came no response to it.
"Bill," breathed Bundle.
Impatiently she switched on the lights, and then stood dumfounded.
The room was empty, and the bed had not even been slept in.
Where then was Bill?
Suddenly she caught her breath. This was not Bill's room. The dainty négligé thrown over a chair, the feminine knick-knacks on the dressing-table, the black velvet evening dress thrown carelessly over a chair--Of course, in her haste she had mistaken the doors. This was the Countess Radzky's room.
But where, oh, where, was the Countess?
And just as Bundle was asking herself this question, the silence of the night was suddenly broken, and in no uncertain manner.
The clamour came from below. In an instant Bundle had sped out of the Countess's room and downstairs. The sounds came from the library--a violent crashing of chairs being overturned.
Bundle rattled vainly at the library door. It was locked. But she could clearly hear the struggle that was going on within--the panting and scuffling, curses in manly tones, the occasional crash as some light piece of furniture came into the line of battle.
And then, sinister and distinct, breaking the peace of the night for good and all, two shots in rapid succession.
