Corpse in a Gilded Cage by Robert Barnard Read Free Book Online Page B

the cutlery. Then they stood back, hands clasped in front of them, and nodded in satisfaction.
    â€˜Isn’t it marvellous?’ muttered Dixie.
    Then the turkey came in, Sam bearing four plates expertly in his big hands, the rest juggling them as they might. The children gazed at their plates, and then wide-eyed once more around the rose-papered room, with the immensely white table cloth and the sparkling glasses. Then the Earl dashed back to the kitchen and returned with three bottles of wine, followed by the Countess, who sank exhaustedly into her place without a word, conveying a distinct aura of reproach to them for the effort their coming had put her to. The Earl handed a bottle to Trevor, and one to Digby, and together they filled up the glasses, Digby covering the neck dexterously to prevent drips. Then the Earl stood at the foot of the table, stepped back to admire his handiwork and see that everyone was served, and then took up his glass.
    â€˜To the big Spenders,’ he said.

CHAPTER 4
DAINTREE MANOR
    The open prison where Philip, Lord Portsea, was spending the last few months of his four-year sentence for robbery was a collection of wooden huts clustered around a modest, early nineteenth-century manor house a few miles outside the village of Daintree, in Gloucestershire. In the Manor the Governor had his flat, the rest of the house being given over to recreation rooms and workshops that taught trades in anticipation of the inmates’ release—weaving, basket-work and making paper hats for Christmas crackers, according to Lord Portsea in his one letter home since being transferred there. It was a moot point whether the Manor was colder than the huts, or the huts than the Manor, but in every other respect Daintree Open Prison was a relaxed and civilized place. So that, though it was not as open as its name implied, being surrounded by a wall, nevertheless the inmates, for whom the wall was child’s play, never bothered to attempt a permanent escape. Why escape to the harsh economic realities of Thatcher’s England, after all? Even the food at Daintree was good, being prepared by an Italian chef who had committed an act of violence on his wife’s lover with a meat axe. So that, all in all, Phil was, as he said with a grin to Chokey during his recent visit, lucky to get in there.
    But then, of course, everybody liked him, as the Earl had so confidently asserted that they must. Back in Maidstone, where he had served the first years of his sentence, he had regularly played dominoes with the Chief Warder, and the Governor had used his case as exemplary in a very civilized and forward-looking letter to the Guardian. The Governor thought that Phil should never have been in gaol in the first place, and the Governor of Daintree agreed with him.
    The Countess’s view, as we have seen, was that Phil had been unlucky. And of course it is unlucky if, when you are engaged in nicking a lorry-load of television sets, you happen to get caught red-handed by the police. Particularly as Phil had had three previous convictions for similar offences, when the judges, entranced by Phil’s cheery openness and charm, had given exceptionally light sentences. The fourth judge was very old, and quite impervious to charm.
    The Governor of Daintree had been most interested by his telephone conversation with Mr Lillywaite. Rumours of Phil’s new state had gone round the prison, especially since the somewhat spectacular incursion of Dixie and Chokey on Thursday. What had been lacking had been details. The Governor indicated that Mr Lillywaite would be at liberty to interview Lord Portsea at any time he cared to appoint; and he added that he, the Governor, would be most pleased to talk to Mr Lillywaite after he had finished his business. Mr Lillywaite fixed the next day, the Saturday, and clicked his thanks into the phone. Then he sat back in the swivel chair of his dull little office in Chetton Lacey and