Dangerous Deception by Anthea Fraser Read Free Book Online

directly responsible for my near panic when Morgan came innocently down the stairs. Really, I told myself severely, I was becoming neurotic.
    The bar of brightness under the door disappeared as the light in the corridor was switched off. The hotel settled itself for the night. Still I lay there, willing myself to sleep with increasing desperation, and eventually, after what seemed aeons, I sank at last into the longed-for drifting between wakefulness and oblivion.
    Then, from one second to the next, I was wide awake, lying rigid, heart pounding, eyes staring, wondering what had disturbed me. And in that moment it came again – a faint, metallic click.
    My head swivelled to the door. Beyond the window, the clouds raced away from the moon and its pale light gleamed on the polished knob. And as I watched it, it moved.
    I clutched the sheet tightly to my chin, staring with unblinking eyes at the slowly turning handle. When it had reached its full extent, the door creaked softly as pressure was put against it. Thank God I’d snipped down the lock. Two keys, Mr Davies had said, mine and the chambermaid’s. Then who—?
    After a timeless interval, the knob silently returned to its original position. Drenched in perspiration, my heart hammering, I waited, and my straining ears caught a faint rustling and scraping.
    I sat up, scarcely breathing, in time to see a white oblong appear under the door. It was pushed farther into the room and another, less white, followed. Then there was a creak of the boards as my unknown visitor stole away.
    My hand shot out for the lamp and the room sprang to life, reassuringly normal, with my clock on the bedside table and my clothes over the chair. But on the carpet just inside the door lay two envelopes, one white, one buff.
    I gazed at them as though they might explode any minute. Then I was out of bed and at the window, my fingers fumbling with the catch as I closed it and pulled the curtains securely across. The airlessness would be stifling, but I would rather suffocate, I told myself grimly, than sleep with the window open tonight. There was a most convenient drainpipe just outside.
    Cautiously I approached the envelopes and picked them up, feeling them between my fingers. The buff one was flat, with the flap casually tucked inside, but the white was quite bulky and had required some manoeuvring to ease under the door – the scraping sound I’d heard. There was, I saw now, a gap of at least an inch – one disadvantage of old buildings that Mrs Davies had omitted to point out.
    Quite definitely I could not have received these by mistake; someone obviously thought it was I who should have them, and the explanation of a treasure-hunt was becoming progressively less convincing.
    Useless to hand them in; the hotel staff had been unable to help with the note. But why should I be singled out? Was it a subtle attempt at harassment?
    Suddenly anger replaced fear. What the hell did they think they were playing at, creeping about at dead of night and scaring the life out of me? I’d show them I could play games too! I’d write a note from Goody Two Shoes and pin it on the hall notice-board. That should silence them!
    I sat on the bed, ripped open the white envelope and pulled out a folded wad of paper. I don’t know what I expected, but certainly not what I now held. It was a small booklet entitled
Cefn Fawr Castle
and on the front, scrawled in pencil, were the words
X marks the spot!
    Had I, after all, been too quick to dismiss the treasure-hunt? I opened it curiously. It was one of those pamphlets on sale at ancient monuments, full of references to the Great Hall, the Keep and the Norman Tower. At the back was a plan of the castle, with what appeared to be a long passage down one side, and almost at the end of this was a pencilled cross. Written faintly across the top of the page were the words
Rub out immediately
.
    A folded sheet of paper had been slipped into the