The Black Benedicts (3 page)

When would Raife Benedict condescend to interview her, and what was it that kept him so exceedingly busy apparently
i
n a house where there were quite a lot of servants and every evidence of a great deal of wealth! Was he some sort of business man in addition to being the owner of Morven Grange
...
? How often did he entertain, and why did Rose look down her nose at the mere suggestion of waiting on his
guests
...
?

Were all the Benedicts dark? Adrian Benedict looked like an Italian, and the men and women in the portraits were all dark-skinned and swarth
y—or had been...!

There came a queer scratching sound at her door, and she sat up suddenly, startled. The pi
ano
had ceased and the house was very quiet, but the noise at the door was much louder—and somehow stealthier!—than that which any mouse could occasion. Certainly not a mouse of normal proportions
...
!

She switched on her bedside light rather hurriedly, and was about to demand in a hoarse whisper who was there when the door started to open very slowly, inch by inch. Mallory felt her heart start to thump rather wildly, her eyes became glued in horrified fascination to the door, but now she could find no voice to call out any
sort of question.

The door opened about a foot, and then a sibilant whisper reached her:

“
Are you—awake
...
?
”

A queer whimpering noise followed the inquiry, and it sounded like the protest of a dog being requested to keep silent. A head appeared round the door, a head with dark, tangled elf-locks, and it was followed by a slight form in a rose-pink satin quilted dressing-gown, hugging in her arms
a small b
ut worried-looking dachshund, who was plainly objecting to the order for silence, enforced by a
slim
hand encircling its muzzle.

Mallory drew a long breath and relaxed against her pillows. Her midnight visitor hast
i
ly closed the door and scampered across to her, taking a flying leap on to the bed and depositing the dachshund on the eiderdown.

“
You don
’
t object to Belinda, do you?
”
she inquired, in her penetrating whisper.
“
She won
’
t do anything or tear it, and I
’
ve been simply
dying
to see you! Darcy was a pig and put me to bed directly after tea so that I shouldn
’
t see you tonight, but I don
’
t care tuppence about Darcy, and I made up my mind that I
would
see you.
”

“
Well?
”
Mallory inquired in return, unable to resist a smile at the spectacle of the tousle-headed child with the magnificent eyes gazing at her rather imploringly from the foot of her own bed Her dressing-gown and her pink feather-trimmed slippers—actually small mules from which her delicate heels protruded—looked as if they were intended for the small daughter of a film star, and certainly this new charge of hers was a quite extraordinary beauty.
“
Now that you
’
ve seen me
w
hat do you think of me?
”

“
I
like
you,
”
came the reply at once.
“
I knew I would because Mrs. Allardyce saw you in the tea-leaves about two days ago and she said you were going to be perfectly all right, and not a bit like Miss Peppercorn, who sucked bulls-eyes and wore little hard round felt hats. You don
’
t wear felt halts, do you?
”

“
Not hard round ones,
”
Mallory replied, adopting the conspiratorial attitude and speaking in a whisper.
“
And who,
”
she asked,
“
is—or, rather, are—Mrs. Allardyce and Mi
s
s Peppercorn?
”

Slim eyebrows upraised themselves in surprise.
“
Why, Mrs. Allardyce is the cook of course and Miss Peppercorn used to be my governess—oh, a long time ago. Mrs. Allardyce is psychic,
”
impressively.

“
Is she indeed?
”
Mallory murmured.

“
She gets warnings, you know, and that sort of thing.
”

“
And you
’
re going to get a nice chill if you don
’
t put something round you,
”
Mallory declared rather anxiously, leaning forward to adjust the eiderdown so that it covered the lower half of her unexpected visitor.
“
Of course, if I
’
d known you were going to pay me this visit I
’
d have been better prepared to receive you. And as it is I
think
I
’
d better put on the fire,
”
preparing to get out of bed.

“
Oh, no, don
’
t do that,
”
Serena begged, catching at her arm to detain her.
“
I
’
m quite warm, really, and very comfortable where I am. Unless, of course, you
’
d rather I came in with you
...
? And Linda as well if you haven
’
t any fearfully strong objections? She doesn
’
t smell at all, only a kind of dachshundish smell which all dachshunds have, and I keep her very well brushed, and spray her sometimes with perfume. Uncle Raife brought me a huge bottle of wonderful French scent from Paris the last time he went there, and I
’
ve used it practically all on Belinda.
”

Mallory felt there was no objection she could possibly raise after such a testimonial as this in connection with Belinda
’
s personal hygiene—although she did think it was rather an odd present for an uncle to bring a small niece—within a matter of seconds after that they were all three nicely tucked in at the correct end of Mallory
’
s bed, and Belinda
’
s nose was hanging mournfully over the top of the lavender-scented sheet, while
her still somewhat worried golden eyes looked upwards a little doubtfully at Mallory.

“
And what do you think Darcy would say if she could see you now?
”
Mallory inquired, wondering whether she ought to insist on
Serena
returning to her own bed immediately.

“
Darcy would be furious.
”

“
Well, then, I think you
’
d better go.
”

B
ut Serena ignored the suggestion.

“
Un
cl
e Raife wouldn
’
t mind. Uncle Raife lets me do most of the things I want to do.
”

“
H
’
m!
”
commented Mallory.
“
That isn
’
t particularly good for you, you know.
”

“
Isn
’
t it?
”
Serena glanced at her with interest.
“
That
’
s a pretty nightie you
’
re wearing,
”
she remarked.
“
I love nice
cl
othes, don
’
t you? Uncle Raife says that if you
’
ve got good looks you should be dressed accordingly. Un
cl
e Raife looks like a pirate, but I always think pirates are terribly fascinating, especially when they don
’
t actually
behave
like pirates.
”

“
Well, I suppose that is an advantage,
”
Mallory admitted, endeavouring to sound as serious as possible.

Serena glanced at her again as if she suspected a twinkle in her eyes.

“
There
’
s a portrait in the library which is a por
trait of one of our ancestors, and
he
was
a pirate in the days of Queen Elizabeth the First. He went about singeing the King of Spain
’
s beard and seizing his ships, and he also seized a beautiful Spanish bride, but Queen Elizabeth wasn
’
t at all pleased when he brought her home, and he very nearly lost his head—had it cut off, you know! But she forgave him, because she liked
him
very much, and he brought her lots of treasure, and
”
—she tried hard to stifle a yawn—
“
he
’
s very like Uncle Raife, only he hasn
’
t got a beautiful Spanish bride—Uncle Raife, I mean
...
”

“
You
’
re a monkey,
”
Mallory told her, smiling a little.
“
And you
’
re a very sleepy monkey,
”
she added.

Serena grimaced a little.

“
That
’
s like Darcy,
”
she said.
“
She thinks children should be seen and not heard, but I
’
m not a child—I
’
m nearly ten!
”

“
And what about your father?
”
Mallory inquired
“
What does he think?
”

“
You mean Adrian?
”
with a faint air of surprise.

“
Yes; he
’
s your father, isn
’
t he? Doesn
’
t he express any opinions where you are concerned?
”

Serena shook her head.

“
Not many—not any,
”
she corrected herself.
“
He plays the piano, and he doesn
’
t seem to bother about anything else, or anyone. He
”
—she yawned suddenly and uncontrollably—
“
oh, I
’
m so tired
...
!
Do you think I could go to sleep in your bed?
”
and
she
started to snuggle down.

But Mallory decided that this was the point at which she asserted herself. She roused the reluctant youngster with a certain amount of difficulty and persuaded her to return to her own room, complete with the much more willing Belinda. Serena, however, only agreed to go if she was accompanied along the corridor by Mallory, expressing a newly-discovered fear of the dark and the by now complete silence of the house. And as her bedroom was some little distance away, in another wing of the house, and it did seem a little hard to expect the child to go alone, Mallory acted as her escort until she was safely in her own room. Then she tucked her up, saw Belinda into her basket, and returned to the side of the small bed to say good-night.

“
Good-night, Serena. Sleep well,
”
she said.
“
I hope you won
’
t be terribly tired in the morning.
”

“
I won
’
t,
”
Serena promised. Then she smiled at her sleepily.
“
You
’
re much nicer than Miss Peppercorn!
”

On the way back to her room Mallory found that she had to traverse the long, moonlit gallery alone, and it struck her as exceedingly eerie at that hour. She fled rather hastily past the head of the stairs, and then as she was about to plunge into her own corridor she noticed that the hall light was still on, and that a man was standing immediately beneath the great swinging lantern, in the middle of a glowing Persian rug. He was in evening dress,
and
he appeared to be quietly smoking a cigarette and contemplating the remains of the fire on the
w
ide hearth, above which his family
’
s coat-of-arms was carved into the chimney breast.