Читать книгу Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 7: Off With His Head, Singing in the Shrouds, False Scent - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 25

The shutters were down over the Private Bar and the room was deserted. Camilla went in and sat by the fire. Since last night she had felt the cold. It was as if some of her own natural warmth had deserted her. When the landlord had driven her and Trixie back to the pub from Mardian Castle, Camilla shivered so violently that they gave her a scalding toddy and two aspirins and Trixie put three stone hot-jugs in her bed. Eventually, she had dropped into a doze and was running away again from ‘Crack’. He was the big drum in a band. Somebody beat him with two swords making a sound like a fiddle. His jaws snapped, dreadfully close. She experienced the dream of frustrated escape. His breath was hot on her neck and her feet were leaden. Then there was Ralph with his arms strapped close about her, saying: ‘It’s all right. I’ll take care of you.’ That was heaven at first, but even that wasn’t quite satisfactory because Ralph was trying to stop her looking at something. In the over-distinct voice of nightmare, he said: ‘You don’t want to watch Ernie because it’s not most awfully nice.’ But Ernie jumped up on the dolmen and shouted at the top of his voice: ‘What price blood for the stone?’ Then all the Morris bells began to jingle like an alarm clock and she woke.

Awake, she remembered how Ralph had, in fact, run to where she and Trixie stood and had told them to go to the car at once. That was after Ernie had fainted and Dame Alice had made her announcement. The landlord, Tom Plowman, had gone up to the stone and had been ordered away by Dr Otterly and Superintendent Carey. He drove the girls back to the pub and, on the way, told them in great detail what he had seen. He was very excited and pleased with himself for having looked behind the stone. In one of her dreams during the night, Camilla thought he made her look too.

Now she sat by the fire and tried to get a little order into her thoughts. It was her grandfather who had been murdered, dreadfully and mysteriously, and it was her uncle who had exulted and collapsed. She herself, therefore, must be said to be involved. She felt as if she was marooned and deserted. For the first time since the event she was inclined to cry.

The door opened and she turned, her hand over her mouth. ‘Ralph!’ she said.

He came to her quickly and dragged up a chair so that he could sit and hold both her hands.

‘You want me now, Camilla,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’