Spinsters in Jeopardy by Ngaio Marsh Read Free Book Online Page B

garage-doors, incongruously set in a rocky face at the back of the platform. “His cars are magnificent.”
    Alleyn said: “The Commissaire at the Préfecture sent you to meet us, I think?”
    “That is so, M’sieur.”
    “Did he give you my name?”
    “Yes, M’sieur l’Inspector-en-Chef. It is Ahrr-lin. But he said that M’sieur l’Inspecteur would prefer, perhaps, that I did not use his rank.”
    “I would greatly prefer it, Raoul.”
    “It is already forgotten, M’sieur.”
    “Again, good.”
    They passed the cave-like room, where the woman sat among her figurines. Raoul hailed her in a cheerful manner and she returned his greeting. “You must bring your gentleman in to see my statues,” she shouted. He called back over his shoulder “All in good time, Marie,” and added, “She is an artist, that one. Her saints are pretty and of assistance in one’s devotions; but then she overcharges ridiculously, which is not so amusing.”
    He sang a stylish little cadence and tilted up his head. They were walking beneath a part of the Château de la Chèvre d’Argent that straddled the passage-way. “It goes everywhere, this house,” he remarked. “One would need a map to find one’s way from the kitchen to the best bedroom. Anything might happen.”
    When they reached the entrance he stood aside and took off his chauffeur’s cap. They found Dr. Baradi in the hall. Alleyn told him that Raoul had been a medical orderly and Baradi at once described the duties he would be expected to perform. His manner was cold and uncompromising. Raoul gave him his full attention. He stood easily, his thumbs crooked in his belt. He retained at once his courtesy, his natural grace of posture, and his air of independence.
    “Well,” Baradi said sharply when he had finished: “Are you capable of this work?”
    “I believe so, M’sieur le Docteur.”
    “If you prove to be satisfactory, you will be given 500 francs. That is extremely generous payment for unskilled work.”
    “As to payment, M’sieur le Docteur,” Raoul said, “I am already employed by this gentleman and consider myself entirely at his disposal. It is at his request that I engage myself in this task.”
    Baradi raised his eyebrows and looked at Alleyn. “Evidently an original,” he said in English. “He seems tolerably intelligent but one never knows. Let us hope that he is at least not too stupid. My man will give him suitable clothes and see that he is clean.”
    He went to the fireplace and pulled a tapestry bell-rope. “Mrs. Allen,” he said, “is most kindly preparing our patient. There is a room at your disposal and I venture to lend you one of my gowns. It will, I’m afraid, be terribly voluminous but perhaps some adjustment can be made. We are involved in compromise, isn’t it?”
    A man wearing the dress of an Egyptian house-servant came in. Baradi spoke to him in his own language, and then to Raoul in French: “Go with Mahomet and prepare yourself in accordance with his instructions. He speaks French.” Raoul acknowledged this direction with something between a bow and a nod. He said to Alleyn: “Monsieur will perhaps excuse me?” and followed the servant, looking about the room with interest as he left it.
    Baradi said: “Italian blood there, I think. One comes across these hybrids along the coast. May I show you to my room?”
    It was in the same passage as Miss Truebody’s, but a little further along it. In Alleyn the trick of quick observation was a professional habit. He saw not only the general sumptuousness of the room but the details also: the Chinese wallpaper, a Wu Tao-tzu scroll, a Ming vase.
    “This,” Dr. Baradi needlessly explained, “is known as the Chinese room but, as you will observe, Mr. Oberon does not hesitate to introduce modulation. The bureau is by Vernis-Martin.”
    “A modulation, as you say, but an enchanting one. The cabinet there is a bolder departure. It looks like a Mussonier.”
    “One of his