Spinsters in Jeopardy by Ngaio Marsh Read Free Book Online

sharkskin trousers. “I think it will be less risky if your husband, who is not unfamiliar with the procedure, gives the anaesthetic. Her condition is not good.”
    His voice flowed over her shoulder. It was really extraordinary she thought, how he could invest information about peritonitis and ruptured abscesses with such a gross suggestion of flattery. He might have been paying her the most objectionable compliments imaginable.
    “Very well,” Alleyn said, “that’s decided, then. But you’ll need other help, won’t you?”
    “If possible, two persons. And here we encounter a difficulty.” He moved round behind Troy but spoke to Alleyn. His manner was now authoritative. “I doubt,” he said, “if there is anyone in the house-party who could assist me. It is not every layman who enjoys a visit to an operating theatre. Surgery is not everybody’s cup of tea.” The colloquialism came oddly from him. “I have spoken to our host, of course. He is not yet stirring. He offers every possible assistance and all the amenities of the château with the reservation that he himself shall not be asked to perform an active part. He is,” said Baradi — putting on his sun-glasses —“allergic to blood.”
    “Indeed,” said Alleyn politely.
    “The rest of our household — we are seven—” Dr. Baradi explained playfully to Troy, “is not yet awake. Mr. Oberon gave a party here last night. Some friends with a yacht in port. We were immeasurably gay and kept going till five o’clock. Mr. Oberon has a genius for parties and a passion for charades. They were quite wonderful, our charades.” Troy was about to give a little ejaculation, which she immediately checked. He beamed at her. “I was cast for one of King Solomon’s concubines. And we had the Queen of Sheba, you know. She stabbed Solomon’s favourite wife. It was all a little strenuous. I don’t think any of my friends will be in good enough form to help us. Indeed, I doubt if any of them, even at the top of his or her form, would care to offer for the role. I don’t know if you have met any of them. Grizel Locke, perhaps? The Honourable Grizel Locke?”
    The Alleyns said they did not know Miss Locke.
    “What about the servants?” Alleyn suggested. Troy was all too easily envisaging Dr. Baradi as one of King Solomon’s concubines.
    “One of the men is a possibility. He is my personal attendant and valet and is not quite unfamiliar with surgical routine. He will not lose his head. Any of the others would almost certainly be worse than useless. So we need one other, you see.”
    A silence fell upon them, broken at last by Troy.
    “I know,” she said, “what Dr. Baradi is going to suggest.” Alleyn looked fixedly at her and raised his left eyebrow.
    “It’s quite out of the question. You well know that you’re punctually sick at the sight of blood, my darling.”
    Troy, who was nothing of the sort, said: “In that case I’ve no suggestions. Unless you’d like to appeal to cousin Garbel.”
    There was a moment of silence.
    “To whom?” said Baradi softly.
    “I’m afraid I was being facetious,” Troy mumbled.
    Alleyn said: “What about our driver? He seems a hardy, intelligent sort of chap. What would he have to do?”
    “Fetch and carry,” Dr. Baradi said. He was looking thoughtfully at Troy. “Count sponges. Hand instruments. Clean up. Possibly, in an emergency, play a minor role as unqualified assistant.”
    “I’ll speak to him. If he seems at all possible I’ll bring him in to see you. Would you like to stroll back to the car with me, darling?”
    “Please don’t disturb yourselves,” Dr. Baradi begged them. “One of the servants will fetch your man.”
    Troy knew that her husband was in two minds about this suggestion and also about leaving her to cope with Dr. Baradi. She said: “You go, Rory, will you? I’m longing for my sunglasses and they’re locked away in my dressing-case.”
    She gave him her keys and a ferocious