James Anderson - Affair of the Thirty-nine Cufflinks

Chapter Forty-Three

'Well, Wilkins, we have to thank you yet again,' said Lord Burford, when the Chief Inspector was saying his good-byes.

'We are greatly in your debt,' added the Countess.

'Not at all, your ladyship. Very pleased to have been of service. A complex case. But its occurrence here not such a coincidence as your lordship at first assumed.'

'How d'you mean?'

'Agatha had decided to kill her stepmother whenever the opportunity arose. The funeral provided the first such opportunity. And the funeral would not have taken place here had it not been for the earlier crimes. It was those murders that made Miss Mackenzie so eager to conduct her experiment here and tell her little fib about your great aunt's wishes. So the location of this crime resulted directly from the earlier ones. It was a simple matter of cause and effect.'

The Earl nodded. 'Yes, I see. Good point.'

'And I have to say that in one respect this was the most satisfying case I have ever handled.'

'Really? What respect was that?'

'For the first time in my life I was able to tell both a Member of Parliament and a King's Counsel to shut up.' A quite dreamy expression came over his face. 'It was a moment I shall long remember and cherish.'

Lord Burford chuckled. 'So shall I, Wilkins, so shall I.'

* * *

When Wilkins had left, the Countess said: 'George, it's wonderful about Geraldine, but it's almost as good that you seem quite your old self, too. I was so worried about you.'

'Worried about me ? Why?'

'Well, you were behaving extremely oddly: picking bunches of nettles, carrying spare socks around with you, making purple ink, burying things outside.'

'Oh. That. Yes. I see.' He looked decidedly embarrassed.

'What were you up, to, George?'

He coughed. 'Well, suppose I can tell you now. Fact is, I was trying to break the curse.'

'What curse?'

'That old gypsy's curse. Thought perhaps all these dreadful things happenin' here, might be something in it, after all. Found this old book about folklore in the library. Lots in it about black magic. Full of ways you can undo or nullify curses and hexes. Some of 'em quite disgustin', actually. But some of the others didn't seem it would do any harm to try. One of them was to take a lot of nettles, cut them up into small pieces and stuff them into things they call poppets - sort of effigies, made of cloth. Best I could do was a pair of old socks. Then you bury them one each side of the porch. Another was to put a lot of bent pins or nails into glass jars and bury them as well. Then there was one where you take a purple candle, write "All blocks are now removed" in reverse on a strip of paper, fold it round the candle and then let it burn out. Only I didn't have a purple candle, so I dipped an ordinary one in purple ink. Then some say you've got to rub oil of rosemary on it, and I didn't have any of that, either.'

Lady Burford gave a slight start. 'Rosemary?'

'Yes. Why?'

'Nothing. Go on.' She gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

'So all in all I wasn't too sure of that one. The last one was simpler: you just tie a length of twine in dozens of knots and say, "Tie and bind, tie and bind, No harm comes to me or mine" and bury that. Anyway, I buried two of each, a poppet of nettles, a jar of bent pins and a length of knotted twine, one each side of the porch. Then, of course, Gerry was attacked, so it didn't seem any of it had worked and I thought it was because I hadn't done it properly. But then she got better, so perhaps there was something in it, after all. What do you think?'

'What do I think? George, it's pagan!'

'But a curse is pagan, isn't it? So why not fight fire with fire?'

'Well, you worried Gerry and you worried me. And you had young Tommy thinking you were out of your mind. We must make sure he learns what was really going on. And Miss Mackenzie saw some of the things you were doing, and guessed what it was about. She seems to be something of an expert. I told her that you'd said it should have been a real purple candle and she said to tell you that you were quite right, but it probably wouldn't have made any difference.'

'Really? Well, glad of that, anyway.'

'She suggested we have a word with the rector. I didn't know what she meant at the time, but I do now. If you really believe Alderley is cursed, we could ask him to come and perform, well, not an exorcism, it's not haunted, after all, but a blessing or a service of cleansing. But I'm sure he'll be willing to arrange something. That will be the Christian thing to do.'

'Yes, fine idea, Lavinia. Will you speak to him? More in your line than mine.'

'Yes, I'll see him after church tomorrow. Now something else. That armour is still scattered all over the picture gallery.'

'Oh, I know. There just hasn't been time to clear it up so far.' He looked at his watch. 'I'll go up and make a start on it now.'

'You'll do it yourself? Isn't it quite a complicated job?'

'I'm sure there's nobody else here who can do it. And I'm darned if I'm going to call in somebody from a museum, or something. No, I know a bit about armour. I think I can manage all right.' He went out.

The Countess leaned back in her chair and gave a sigh. So all was explained. But what had George been thinking of? Nettles, bent pins, purple candles. Really, if it wasn't so ridiculous, it would be quite funny. In fact...

The Countess smiled. Her lips twitched. She gave a little chuckle. The chuckle turned into a laugh. The laugh became louder. Lady Burford laughed as she had not done for years.

* * *

In the gallery, the Earl stared at the various components of the suit of armour, trying to recall just what would be the best way to set about putting them together. Doing it on his own could take quite a time. He was going to need some help. He went out and made his way back along the corridor, towards the main staircase. But before he reached it, he saw his butler coming towards him, stopped and waited until Merryweather reached him.

'I've just been looking at that armour,' the Earl said. 'I'm going to start puttin' it back together.'

'Strangely enough, my lord, I was looking at it only ten minutes ago, and was intending to remind your lordship of the situation.'

'I'll need a hand, though. So if William or Benjamin aren't doin' anything vital at the moment, send one of them along to the gallery, will you?'

'I shall be very happy to assist your lordship.'

'Really? It'll mean some crawlin' about the floor, you know.'

'Quite within my capabilities, my lord.'

'Well, if you're sure, come along then.'

He turned and began to retrace his steps towards the gallery, Merryweather accompanying him. A thought struck the Earl. 'You know, we never did find out what caused it to fall over. That young scallywag Tommy confessed to it. But seems he didn't, after all. So, who did?'

The merest ghost of a smile appeared momentarily on the butler's august features. 'Perhaps Miss Mackenzie's original belief was correct after all and it was indeed a poltergeist, my lord.'

The Earl chuckled. 'Don't believe in 'em.'

They had reached the double doors of the gallery. About to go in, Lord Burford suddenly stopped dead, causing Merryweather very nearly to bump into him. Both men stared into the room. In a strangled whisper the Earl uttered just two words. 'Good gad.'

The suit of armour was standing on its plinth, intact and perfectly reassembled.

Long seconds passed. At last, Lord Burford gulped. He seemed to have difficulty in speaking. 'Not - not two minutes ago that was all over the floor. There was an hour's work to put it back...'

His normally pink complexion had become very pale. He turned and gazed at Merryweather uncomprehendingly.

The butler's face, by way of contrast to his employer's, had gone a dingy grey. He stared at the suit of armour. 'There - there seems to be a piece of paper stuck under the visor, my lord.'