Читать книгу Death's Mannikins - Max Afford - Страница 9

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With a twist of the wheel Morgan steered the car around a muddy pot-hole in the road. As Jeffery predicted, they hummed through a weeping world. Some five miles out of London they had run into a thunderstorm. Pressing on, they passed through the worst of the downpour and emerged into a sad grey land that stretched, even as Rollo had said, into infinity.

"'The dumb sky rhinoceros glum,'" quoted Jeffery, feeling for his cigarette-case. "It takes a day like this to impress one with the Sitwells' originality of words and colour—"

"There's 'Rochester,'" interrupted Morgan shortly. And he pressed his foot on the accelerator.

Built of some dark stone, it rose out of the valley like a stranded ship carried far inland. The mansion was gaunt, four-square, and ugly, with harsh lines emphasized rather than concealed by the drooping mantel of ivy that matted the house. The tower rose up sharply like a stocky warning finger, and on the serrated top Blackburn could see the collection of meteorological instruments his friend had spoken about.

At the side of the house was a smaller building of weathered stone, with pointed roof and walls heavily buttressed. He gestured towards it.

"What's that?"

"The chapel," Morgan told him. "Cornelius holds family prayers in there every Sunday morning. The Prof. is rather too theological—he studied for the Church before taking up his present work. The chapel's quite a feature of 'Rochester'. Has central heating and all modern accessories."

"Central heating?"

"Yes. Sounds unconventional in this lonely spot, doesn't it? It was more for Beatrice's comfort than anything else. She was intensely devotional and used to spend hours in the chapel. So her brother had the heating system extended from the house and it can he turned on inside the chapel itself. Makes Sunday morning prayers almost a physical pleasure."

"And does everyone attend these—er—devotions?"

"Everyone excepting Roger," Morgan said. "He's a self-confessed agnostic. Personally, I think he's too lazy to walk the distance between the house and the chapel."

"And the staff?"

"Prater attends. But Bianca and her mother are not forced to go. The Girt couple join up when they're on duty here. And, of course, the guests are naturally expected to fall in with the old man's wishes." Rollo grinned, a trifle wryly. "You'll probably get your own introduction to the chapel this morning."

Blackburn was stretching his neck. "There's another low building adjoining it," he said presently. "I can just see something that looks like a door—"

"That's the family vault." The other's tone was curt.

Jeffery nodded slowly. The drive towards the house continued in silence. Rollo manipulated the wheel and the tyres bumped on to a macadam track which led to the front of the house. As they approached, Jeffery saw that his glimpse of the garden had not given him a false impression. Desolation was everywhere. The front of the house alone showed signs of cultivation. Here was some semblance of flower-beds, and weedy gravelled paths wound off into the undergrowth. Urged by the thought of a long-delayed breakfast, he glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes after ten o'clock. At that moment the car pulled up before a deep porch with a scuffle of tyres.

"There's Jan waiting," said Rollo suddenly.

Stepping out of the car, Jeffery turned. She was dressed with attractive carelessness: a heavy knitted jumper and a two-piece Harris tweed suit. The two men walked across and Rollo, after introductions, left to garage the car. In the silence that followed his departure, Jan Rochester measured the young man with level eyes. She spoke quietly.

"I've heard of you, Mr. Blackburn. You're very clever."

Jeffery said drolly, "Now, what am Ito say to that?"

"Mr. Blackburn is down here merely on holiday, Miss Jan. It's better that way, seeing how touchy your father is about official investigation." put in Rollo.

Jeffery smiled and nodded.

"That's so. Rollo has told me the story of this mannikin business. But he hasn't convinced me that there's really anything serious to investigate as yet."

The dark fear in the girl's eyes flashed to the surface.

"I rather think there is," she said quietly. "Because Roger has disappeared!"