‘But I’ll want to stop off at The Dog and Duck on the way.’
‘As you wish, my lady,’ I said, and pulled smoothly away from the kerb.
The journey home was as enjoyable as the journey out, and we were soon outside the pub in the village. I left the engine running while Lady Hardcastle dashed inside, and within moments she was back out and we were on the last leg, up the lane to the house.
Lady Hardcastle resisted all my attempts to prise further information from her during the afternoon. The weather had slowly deteriorated and another storm was brewing by the time I finally persuaded her to give me at least a clue as to what was going on.
‘Oh, very well,’ she huffed. ‘I’m still not going to let you spoil my surprise – Emily must have her moment – but you should lay out our finery for this evening; we’re going to another séance.’
I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; getting even that much was victory enough for now.
By the time we had eaten supper and changed for the pub, the storm was well and truly underway, with rain once more lashing the windows and the sound of distant thunder rumbling in across the hills.
We were drenched when we reached the pub, and I was glad that Daisy didn’t keep us waiting too long at the door before letting us in. The room was laid out exactly as it had been for the first séance and I was astonished to see that Mr Snelson was there, along with the rest of the original guests. I raised an eyebrow at Lady Hardcastle, but she shook her head. Sergeant Dobson was behind the bar with his friend Joe Arnold, but he was still in uniform and obviously still on duty, whatever the pint of cider in his hand might have suggested.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I know it was horribly short notice and you’ve all probably got much better things to be getting on with, but I just needed to make one more attempt to communicate with the spirits before we can finally see justice done.’
There were murmurs and nods of acknowledgement from around the table.
‘Daisy, dear, do you think Madame Eugénie might be ready now?’
‘I’ll just go and see, m’lady,’ said Daisy, but before she reached the door, it opened and in swept Madame Eugénie in her lacy black dress.
‘Good evening, my dears,’ she said dreamily as she wafted to the table and sat in her chair. ‘I can feel that the spirits are anxious to commune with us this night. Is everyone ready?’
There were more murmurs which she took as assent.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Let us begin. You remember the procedure from last time, I trust? Grasp your neighbour’s right wrist with your left hand and under no circumstances break the circle. Once we begin, that circle will be our only protection.’
We managed to link hands much more easily this time and once again, Madame Eugénie asked Daisy to turn down the lamp. In the darkness, Dr Fitzsimmons once again found her wrist and we waited in silence. A flash of lightening so bright that it could be seen even though the windows were tightly shuttered was followed by a booming crash of thunder so loud and so sudden that there were screams and gasps from around the table and a flutter of movement as several people raised their hands in shock.
‘Calm, please, my dears,’ said Madame Eugénie’s dreamy voice. ‘Re-form the circle and we shall begin.’
There was more rustling and fidgeting as everyone made fresh contact with their neighbour’s wrist and after a few moments the room fell silent once more with only the hammering of the rain on the windows to break the peace.
‘Spirits, we implore you, join us. Join us and share your knowledge and wisdom that we might see justice done,’ said Madame Eugénie.
As before, there was a knock on the table but this time, there was an answering, lighter knock. Once more the louder knock, as though the spirit were testing, and once more, the lighter reply.
‘Who calls me at this hour?’ said Madame Eugénie in the gravelly voice we now knew to be her spirit guide Monsieur Diderot. ‘Is that you, Madame Eugénie?’
‘It is I, Monsieur Diderot,’ she said in her usual voice. ‘We seek answers in the matter we spoke of last time. We have been troubled by an unquiet spirit. Is it Emmanuel Bean? Is he there? Does he have anything else to tell us?’
‘He is here,’ said the gravelly voice. ‘He is greatly troubled. He craves one more chance to avenge himself by revealing the truth of his death.’
‘Let him come forth,’ she said, dreamily. ‘Let him cross over.’
There was a chilly gust and once more, the ghostly white figure that had appeared last time was among us. He raised his chalk-white arm and pointed once again at Mr Snelson. His mouth opened to speak, but instead it was Lady Hardcastle who said, ‘Now, Sergeant Dobson, if you please.’
With that, a lamp flared by the bar and the room was suddenly illuminated.
The scene that greeted us was at once shocking, astonishing and comically disappointing. Around the table, everyone’s hands were joined as instructed, except for those of Madame Eugénie and Lady Hardcastle who each had their left hands somehow free. I looked closer at Lady Hardcastle and saw that Mr Snelson was grasping her right wrist as instructed, but that she was using the same hand to hold Madame Eugénie’s right wrist. Madame Eugénie had pulled the same trick and was glaring menacingly at Lady Hardcastle. In Madame Eugénie’s left hand was a short fishing rod and hanging from the end of the line was a white leather glove, stuffed to make it appear fleshy and full, and which was now clasped firmly in Lady Hardcastle’s free left hand.
Daisy turned up the lamp on the table and I turned to my left to see that what we had taken to be the ghost of Emmanuel Bean was actually a small young woman in a white suit and wearing ghoulishly white makeup on her otherwise rather pretty face. She made to scamper for the door to the stairs, but Constable Hancock appeared in the doorway to block her escape.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Lady Hardcastle once chatter had died down a little. ‘I’m sorry to spoil the show, but I hope the news I bring will make up for any disappointment you might be feeling at having been so expertly hoodwinked by Madame Eugénie here.’
Madame Eugénie placed the fishing rod carefully on the table but said nothing, continuing to glare murderously at Lady Hardcastle.