‘Oh, pish and fiddlesticks,’ she said. ‘As always we did nothing more than simply be here while everything happened around us. If we’d thought more clearly and more quickly, more lives might have been saved.’
‘Nevertheless,’ he said, ‘you helped me to hold things together and it was your plan that brought an end to it all.’
‘Think nothing of it, dear boy,’ she said, kissing him fondly on the cheek. ‘May I return the favour and invite you for elevenses tomorrow?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you. Eleven o’clock?’
‘I believe that’s when we have them, these days,’ she said, and after saying our goodbyes to the others, we left for home.
The next morning I was up with the lark’s more energetically conscientious cousin, taking care of domestic matters and attempting to outshine Babble with the quality and selection of cakes and pastries on offer, when Colonel Dawlish came to call.
Lady Hardcastle had joined me in the kitchen and was chattering inconsequentially as I worked. At exactly the moment that the hall clock began to chime eleven o’clock, the doorbell rang. It was our guest, Colonel Dawlish.
‘I think George is a good enough friend that he won’t mind if we stay in the kitchen, Flo,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I’m growing rather fond of the informality of it.’
‘I say,’ said colonel Dawlish. ‘Eating in the kitchen with the servants? How common. Whatever will our friends say?’
‘Watch yourself, mush,’ I said, ‘or I might have to slosh you one.’
‘She will, you know,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘She’s a terror when her dander’s up.’
‘I can quite believe it. Calm yourself, my dearest Florence, we shall eat together as equals. I say, did you make all this nosh?’
We had arrived in the kitchen and he had seen the plates heaped with treats that I had spent all morning preparing.
‘With my own, delicate hands,’ I said, curtseying.
I served the coffee and we sat together at the oak table.
‘How’s the circus today, Georgie?’ said Lady Hardcastle as I poured the coffee.
‘It might take a while for us all to settle back to normal,’ he said. ‘But last night’s show was another triumph and the troop send their warmest regards. With extra thanks from Addie for saving her life.’
‘I think we rather endangered the poor girl’s life,’ she said. ‘But I’m pleased she’s well.’
‘Ronnie and Wilf haven’t said much since they left my tent yesterday afternoon, so I still don’t quite know what happened. How did you come to be trussed up in the middle of the ring?’
‘Oh, it was sheer stupidity. I was full of my own cleverness and sent Mickey off to scout round while we bowled merrily into the backstage area, imagining that we could conceal ourselves behind props or furniture before Grafton got there. It never crossed my mind for a moment that he might be working with someone else and would already be there. He heard us bumbling about and sneaked in while we were trying to hide. He managed to cosh Wilf and overpower me before Veronica fainted and we were out of the game. I presume Mickey wisely thought discretion the better part of valour and awaited reinforcements. I came to on the floor in the ring just as Sabine was pointing a pistol at Flo and dismissing the rest of humanity as worms beneath her Goddess-like feet.’
‘Might I just point out,’ I said, ‘that this is the second time since you moved to Gloucestershire that a madwoman has pointed a revolver at me. I shall have to insist on a rise if this sort of thing carries on.’
‘Duly noted, pet, duly noted. I’d wager my Derringer-in-the-hat idea is starting to look a good deal less risible now, though, eh? What?’
‘Your Derringer what?’ said Colonel Dawlish, laughing.
‘Don’t encourage her,’ I said.
‘Nuff said, my curiosity is duly stifled. Mickey, as you say, was waiting for us to get there rather than trying to take them on on his own.’
‘Wise man. Have there been any official developments?’ asked Lady Hardcastle. ‘Is Sergeant Dobson all right?’
‘He seems fine,’ said Colonel Dawlish. ‘I went to see him first thing and it looks as though he’ll get a stiff talking-to from HQ, but with everything wrapped up so neatly he doesn’t think the coroner will cause any further trouble. He did have some news, though.’
‘Oh?’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Yes, he told as much of the story as he could to Bristol CID and a chap there – Sunderland, I think he said his name was – made a few enquiries. There was a flurry of international cables overnight and it seems that the late Sabine Mathieu has been of interest to the French, German, Belgian and Dutch police for some years.’
‘Gracious,’ I said.
‘Quite so. Apparently there have been several murders in circuses across the Continent while she was there. There was never even a hint that she had committed the murders, but after a couple of incidents in Germany people began talking and she acquired a reputation as an “angel of death”. I told you that circus folk were a superstitious lot and though they never actually suspected her of anything, she found it increasingly difficult to get work in the European circuses. That was when she came over here and got the job with us. Your Dr Fitzsimmons was at the station and he said she sounded like a “psychopath” I think he said. Some sort of brain doctor word for stark raving barmy if you ask me.’
‘Well I never,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Still, it’s all done and done with now,’ he said. ‘No point in dwelling. I say, Flo, these scones are quite the most delicious–’
There was another ring at the doorbell. I rose to answer it and it was the postman with two letters. One appeared to be a bill from Lady Hardcastle’s dressmaker, and the other a letter from her brother Harry. I returned to the kitchen and handed them to her.
‘Oh, it’s from Harry,’ she said, having discarded the bill with an impatient huff. ‘Do you mind, Georgie? I wonder what he has to say. He’s been writing rather a lot lately and I fear there are developments afoot.’
‘Please, darling, go ahead. Florence and I shall indulge in one or two more of these delightful pastries.’
Lady Hardcastle read in silence.
‘Oh that’s a relief,’ she said at last. ‘I rather feel that things might be improving. He says that his contacts in the British embassy in Berlin report that Ehrlichmann has returned to Germany.’
‘That is good news,’ I said. ‘You must be relieved.’
‘I am, pet, I am.’
‘Ehrlichmann?’ said Colonel Dawlish through a mouthful of biscuit.
‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I’ll tell you another time. You enjoy your cake.’
THREE
The Case of the Missing Case