The Moonless Night by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

leaving. Mr. Benson acted not only mystified at oblique offers of help, but embarrassed to be caught returning to the house of his host after two without having said he was leaving.
    “I decided to pop down to the inn to see what was going on,” he explained, unaware that Mr. Boltwood had done the same, and knew it was some more hair-raising adventure that had lured the spy out of doors.
    “A wise precaution,” David said, nodding his head wisely.
    “Tomorrow I'll take you to the Point and show you the winches and...”
    “Miss Boltwood has offered to show me the telescope,” Mr. Benson answered, rather enlarging on her offer to point out to him the way.
    “She’ll be tickled pink to tag along.”
    “I would appreciate your showing me the secret of the mysterious winch and chain, however.”
    “Be happy to. And don’t forget we’re going out in the Fury .”
    “Delightful.”
    “Er, would you care for a glass of brandy, Mr. Benson?”
    “Brandy? I cannot think your aunt would approve. She mentioned to me it ought to be avoided at all costs.”
    “Ha ha, poor old Biddy. You must overlook her odd ways. Crazy as a loon. She’ll stick half a dozen of her speckled leeches on you if you give her half a chance.”
    “I was afraid it was my mole she had designs on,” Mr. Benson replied, smiling.
    “No, she don’t operate. Yet.”
    “Good. Now, what was that you were saying about brandy? I would like to take a glass to my room.”
    David was immensely disappointed that they two were not to drink together, but as drinking alone in one’s room was a spy’s way, he took a glass up with him, and by diluting it with twice as much water managed to get the nasty stuff down before he passed out entirely.
     

Chapter 5
     
    Even one guest can seriously upset the routine of a whole household. The next morning Bolt Hall’s schedule was sadly awry. Biddy, scampering through her library for a chapter on moles, human variety, let her niece sleep until an insalubrious eight-thirty, thus missing her morning constitutional. After his late night activities, David did not come to the table till nine, and Sir Henry had succumbed to an attack of gout as a result of all his arduous petitioning, or possibly as a result of the customary glass of wine served at several of his stops. He hobbled to the breakfast table but was in a bad skin. The lines that ran from nose to mouth were etched deep, and the furrows between his eyes pronounced enough that David mentally applied the term “Roman frown.” He didn’t know exactly what it meant, but it was the phrase used to describe old Romans with similar wrinkles in his textbooks. He had hoped to find his father in better humor, that he might jolly him into a full account of his correspondence regarding the spy. No matter, he’d have to get it out of Benson himself.
    Only Mr. Benson sat at the table without being aware he had shattered the day’s beginning. “I am looking forward to our ride to the Point to see the telescope, Miss Boltwood,” he said pleasantly as soon as he had bid them all good morning.
    Having missed her walk, Marie was eligible for a ride. Not even Biddy could deny that, much as she would have liked to. David, of course, immediately volunteered his services in the viewing of the telescope as well, which, removing any hint of fast behavior from it in providing a chaperone, made it acceptable to Biddy.
    “We had better wait till Lord Sanford takes his coffee, and see if he would like to go with you,” Sir Henry told them.
    There wasn’t a closed mouth at the table except for Sir Henry’s and Mr. Benson’s. Who was Lord Sanford, and what was he doing at Bolt Hall?
    “Who?” David asked, being the first to recover.
    “Lord Sanford. Bathurst’s godson. He arrived last night,” Sir Henry said with an air of satisfaction.
    “Arrived here?” Biddy goggled. “I didn’t hear anyone arrive.”
    “He came late. Very late,” Sir Henry said, with a hint of