The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie (good beach reads txt) 📖

day for Bill Eversleigh. George Lomax, obsessed with the fear that something damaging to his Department might leak out, had been exceedingly trying. Miss Oscar and Bill had been in constant attendance. Everything useful and interesting had been done by Miss Oscar. Bill’s part had been to run to and fro with countless messages, to decode telegrams, and to listen by the hour to George repeating himself.

It was a completely exhausted young man who retired to bed on Saturday night. He had had practically no chance to talk to Virginia all day, owing to George’s exactions, and he felt injured and ill-used. Thank goodness, that Colonial fellow had taken himself off. He had monopolized far too much of Virginia’s society anyway. And of course if George Lomax went on making an ass of himself like this—— His mind seething with resentment, Bill fell asleep. And, in dreams, came consolation. For he dreamt of Virginia.

It was an heroic dream, a dream of burning timbers in which he played the part of the gallant rescuer. He brought down Virginia from the topmost story in his arms. She was unconscious. He laid her on the grass. Then he went off to find a packet of sandwiches. It was most important that he should find that packet of sandwiches. George had it, but instead of giving it up to Bill, he began to dictate telegrams. They were now in the vestry of a church, and any minute Virginia might arrive to be married to him. Horror! He was wearing pyjamas. He must get home at once and find his proper clothes. He rushed out to the car. The car would not start. No petrol in the tank! He was getting desperate. And then a big General ’bus drew up and Virginia got out of it on the arm of the bald headed Baron. She was deliciously cool, and exquisitely dressed in grey. She came over to him and shook him by the shoulders playfully. “Bill,” she said. “Oh, Bill.” She shook him harder. “Bill,” she said. “Wake up. Oh, do wake up!”

Very dazed, Bill woke up. He was in his bedroom at Chimneys. But part of the dream was with him still. Virginia was leaning over him, and was repeating the same words with variations.

“Wake up, Bill. Oh, do wake up. Bill.”

“Hullo!” said Bill, sitting up in bed. “What’s the matter?”

Virginia gave a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness. I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been shaking you and shaking you. Are you properly awake now?”

“I think so,” said Bill doubtfully.

“You great lump,” said Virginia. “The trouble I’ve had! My arms are aching.”

“These insults are uncalled for,” said Bill, with dignity. “Let me say, Virginia, that I consider your conduct most unbecoming. Not at all that of a pure young widow.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bill. Things are happening.”

“What kind of things?”

“Queer things. In the Council Chamber. I thought I heard a door bang somewhere, and I came down to see. And then saw a light in the Council Chamber. I crept along the passage, and peeped through the crack of the door. I couldn’t see much, but what I could see was so extraordinary that I felt I must see more. And then, all of a sudden, I felt that I should like a nice, big, strong man with me. And you were the nicest and biggest and strongest man I could think of, so I came in and tried to wake you up quietly. But I’ve been ages doing it.”

“I see,” said Bill. “And what do you want me to do now? Get up and tackle the burglars?”

Virginia wrinkled her brows.

“I’m not sure that they are burglars. Bill, it’s very queer—— But don’t let’s waste time talking. Get up.”

Bill slipped obediently out of bed.

“Wait while I don a pair of boots—the big ones with nails in them. However big and strong I am, I’m not going to tackle hardened criminals with bare feet.”

“I like your pyjamas, Bill,” said Virginia dreamily. “Brightness without vulgarity.”

“While we’re on the subject,” remarked Bill, reaching for his second boot, “I like that thingummybob of yours. It’s a pretty shade of green. What do you call it? It’s not just a dressing-gown, is it?”

“It’s a négligé” said Virginia. “I’m glad you’ve led such a pure life, Bill.”

“I haven’t,” said Bill indignantly.

“You’ve just betrayed the fact. You’re very nice, Bill, and I like you. I dare say that to-morrow morning—say about ten o’clock, a good safe hour for not unduly exciting the emotions—I might even kiss you.”

“I always think these things are best carried out on the spur of the moment,” suggested Bill.

“We’ve other fish to fry,” said Virginia. “If you don’t want to put on a gas mask and a shirt of chain mail, shall we start?”

“I’m ready,” said Bill.

He wriggled into a lurid silk dressing-gown, and picked up a poker.

“The orthodox weapon,” he observed.

“Come on,” said Virginia, “and don’t make a noise.”

They crept out of the room and along the corridor, and then down the wide double staircase. Virginia frowned as they reached the bottom of it.

“Those boots of yours aren’t exactly domes of silence, are they, Bill?”

“Nails will be nails,” said Bill. “I’m doing my best.”

“You’ll have to take them off,” said Virginia firmly.

Bill groaned.

“You can carry them in your hand. I want to see if you can make out what’s going on in the Council Chamber. Bill, it’s awfully mysterious. Why should burglars take a man in armour to pieces?”

“Well, I suppose they can’t take him away whole very well. They disarticulate him, and pack him neatly.”

Virginia shook her head, dissatisfied.

“What should they want to steal a mouldy old suit of armour for? Why, Chimneys is full of treasures that are much easier to take away.”

Bill shook his head.

“How many of them are there?” he asked, taking a firmer grip of his poker.

“I couldn’t see properly. You know what a keyhole is. And they only had a flashlight.”

“I expect they’ve gone by now,” said Bill hopefully.

He sat down on the bottom stair and drew off his boots. Then, holding them in his hand, he crept along the passage that led to the Council Chamber, Virginia close behind him. They halted outside the massive oak door. All was silent within, but suddenly Virginia pressed his arm, and he nodded. A bright light had shown for a minute through the keyhole.

Bill went down on his knees, and applied his eye to the orifice. What he saw was confusing in the extreme. The scene of the drama that was being enacted inside was evidently just to the left, out of his line of vision. A subdued chink every now and then seemed to point to the fact that the invaders were still dealing with the figure in armour. There were two of these, Bill remembered. They stood together by the wall just under the Holbein portrait. The light of the electric torch was evidently being directed upon the operations in progress. It left the rest of the room nearly in darkness. Once a figure flitted across Bill’s line of vision, but there was not sufficient light to distinguish anything about it. It might have been that of a man or a woman. In a minute or two it flitted back again and then the subdued chinking sounded again. Presently there came a new sound, a faint tap-tap as of knuckles on wood.

Bill sat back on his heels suddenly.

“What is it?” whispered Virginia.

“Nothing. It’s no good going on like this. We can’t see anything, and we can’t guess what they’re up to. I must go in and tackle them.”

He drew on his boots and stood up.

“Now, Virginia, listen to me. We’ll open the door as softly as possible. You know where the switch of the electric light is?”

“Yes, just by the door.”

“I don’t think there are more than two of them. There may be only one. I want to get well into the room. Then, when I say ‘Go’ I want you to switch on the lights. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“And don’t scream or faint or anything. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“My hero!” murmured Virginia.

Bill peered at her suspiciously through the darkness. He heard a faint sound which might have been either a sob or a laugh. Then he grasped the poker firmly and rose to his feet. He felt that he was fully alive to the situation.

Very softly he turned the handle of the door. It yielded and swung gently inwards. Bill felt Virginia close beside him. Together they moved noiselessly into the room.

At the farther end of the room, the torch was playing upon the Holbein picture. Silhouetted against it was the figure of a man, standing on a chair and gently tapping on the panelling! His back, of course, was to them, and he merely loomed up as a monstrous shadow.

What more they might have seen cannot be told, for at that moment Bill’s nails squeaked upon the parquet floor. The man swung round, directing the powerful torch full upon them and almost dazzling them with the sudden glare.

Bill did not hesitate.

“Go,” he roared to Virginia, and sprang for his man, as she obediently pressed down the switch of the electric lights.

The big chandelier should have been flooded with light; but, instead, all that happened was the click of the switch. The room remained in darkness.

Virginia heard Bill curse freely. The next minute the air was filled with panting, scuffling sounds. The torch had fallen to the ground and extinguished itself in the fall. There was the sound of a desperate struggle going on in the darkness, but as to who was getting the better of it, and indeed as to who was taking part in it, Virginia had no idea. Had there been anyone else in the room besides the man who was tapping the panelling? There might have been. Their glimpse had been only a momentary one.

Virginia felt paralysed. She hardly knew what to do. She dared not try and join in the struggle. To do so might hamper and not aid Bill. Her one idea was to stay in the doorway, so that anyone trying to escape should not leave the room that way. At the same time, she disobeyed Bill’s express instructions and screamed loudly and repeatedly for help.

She heard doors opening upstairs, and a sudden gleam of light from the hall and the big staircase. If only Bill could hold his man until help came.

But at that minute there was a final terrific upheaval. They must have crashed into one of the figures in armour, for it fell to the ground with a deafening noise. Virginia saw dimly a figure springing for the window, and at the same time heard Bill cursing and disengaging himself from fragments of armour.

For the first time, she left her post, and rushed wildly for the figure at the window. But the window was already unlatched. The intruder had no need to stop and fumble for it. He sprang out and raced away down the terrace and round the corner of the house. Virginia raced after him. She was young and athletic, and she turned the corner of the terrace not many seconds after her quarry.

But there she ran headlong into the arms of a man who was emerging from a small side door. It was Mr. Hiram P. Fish.

“Gee! It’s a lady,” he exclaimed. “Why, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Revel. I took you for one of the thugs fleeing from justice.”

“He’s just passed this way,” cried Virginia breathlessly. “Can’t we catch him?”

But, even as she spoke, she knew it was too late. The man must have gained the park by now, and it was a dark night with no moon. She retraced her steps to the Council Chamber, Mr. Fish by her side, discoursing in a soothing monotone upon the habits of