The major glanced at his watch. “As a matter of fact, I was just leaving for the base. I can drop you off on the way.”
“Splendid! I’ll meet you by the front steps, then. It won’t take more than a minute or two to pick up the box.”
“I have a better idea. I’ll come with you and get the box so you won’t have to carry it.”
“That’s terribly gallant of you, Major. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
She hurried to keep up with his long stride as they headed down the great hall to the main stairs. As they passed the suits of armor, she peered at them rather hard but couldn’t see anything unusual about them. It all must have been a trick of the light just then, she assured herself.
“I’ll round up a few bottles of Scotch for the dance if you like,” Monroe offered as they descended the staircase together.
Vastly relieved she hadn’t had to ask him after all, she exclaimed, “Oh, would you? That would be marvelous. We’ll pay you for them, of course, out of the proceeds.”
He nodded. “How will you get back from the town hall?”
“Pardon?” She sent him a startled glance. That thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Where was her mind wandering to lately?
“Well, you can’t walk all that way back. Especially at night with a murderer on the loose.” He looked sideways at her. “I guess they haven’t found the German yet?”
“No, they haven’t. Apparently he’d been hiding out at the Macclesby’s farm, but by the time the soldiers got there, he was long gone. I was talking to the army captain on the phone just now, and he thinks the German has probably left the area. I think they are calling off the search and leaving it to the police to handle.”
“Well, England is a pretty small country. There can’t be too many Germans wandering around. He’ll be picked up sooner or later.”
“I suppose so. It does leave things sort of up in the air, though, doesn’t it?” Elizabeth paused at the library door. “I suppose we shall never know now who killed poor Amelia Brunswick.”
The voice came from nowhere, startling them both. “What are you doing! Halt there, I say!”
The quavery command had come from behind them, and both of them swung around.
Looking a little like a giant ant in his black morning coat, Martin advanced upon them at the speed of a tortoise, brandishing what appeared to be the blunderbuss from her father’s collection of antique guns.
“What the devil-!” Earl Monroe immediately stepped in front of Elizabeth, shielding her from Martin’s sight.
Terribly gratified by this show of heroism, Elizabeth basked for a moment in the unfamiliar glow of feeling thoroughly cherished and protected. It had been a long time since anyone had acted so chivalrously toward her.
Major Monroe’s back was quite broad and hid Martin from view. His voice, however, could be heard quite plainly. “Unhand that lady this instant, sir, or I shall be forced to put a cannonball into your intestines.”
Elizabeth winced and stepped out from behind Earl Monroe’s comforting frame. “It’s all right, Major,” she assured him. “It isn’t loaded.” She took a step forward into Martin’s path and held out her hand. “Give me the gun, Martin. As you can see, I’m in no danger. Major Monroe is our guest.”
Martin peered over the top of his glasses. “I beg your pardon, madam, but I believe you’ve been misled. This is the German officer everyone is looking for. You can see his uniform is most certainly not British.” He raised the gun and jabbed it in the major’s direction. “Have at you, sir!”
“Are you quite sure it’s not loaded?” Earl Monroe asked with just a trace of uncertainty in his voice.
“Quite,” Elizabeth said confidently. “Even if it were it probably wouldn’t fire. It hasn’t been fired for centur-” Her words ended in a piercing scream as a deafening roar rattled the chandelier above her head.
At the same time a cloud of smoke billowed from the end of the gun, and Martin was lifted off his feet. Elizabeth just had time to see him land with a thud on his back when something hit her hard between the shoulder blades. The force of the weight behind her thrust her face down onto the carpet.
Momentarily stunned, she realized the heavy weight was still on top of her, pinning her down. Part of her mind registered the dust rising from the carpet under her nose, and she made a mental note to remind Polly to vacuum the carpet first thing in the morning.
Her mind cleared an instant later, and she realized she was in danger of expiring from lack of breath, since her lungs were crushed by the mysterious weight on her back. She heard a faint groan further down the hall then a pattering of feet running toward them.
Violet’s voice sounded incredulous when she exclaimed, “What in the world are you all doing on the floor?”
The weight on her back shifted, and Elizabeth raised her head. A few feet away, Martin lay on his back, the gun still in his grip and pointing straight at the ceiling.
“You okay?”
The major’s voice spoke directly in her ear, and she realized it was his body lying full-length on top of her. Slowly she swiveled her head and met Violet’s amused gaze.
“Well,” the housekeeper said with a hint of smugness, “how nice to see you making the Yanks feel so much at home.”
CHAPTER13
Martin, as it turned out, was relatively unharmed, despite his spectacular backspring. Apparently, as the major explained, the kickback of the heavy gun had knocked the aged butler off his feet. Fortunately he had managed to imbibe a goodly portion of the expensive brandy Major Monroe had brought with him the night before, which explained his confusion as to the major’s identity. The brandy had also relaxed him enough to survive the fall without any broken bones.
After examining him carefully, Dr. Sheridan pronounced the elderly man none the worse for wear, apart from a badly bruised shoulder and a considerable blow to his pride.
Much relieved, Elizabeth showed the doctor out then went back to the library to question Martin. “Where on earth did you get the gunpowder to load that thing?” she asked him as she helped him on with his coat.
“The master always kept a supply of it in the safe.” Martin struggled to fasten his buttons. “He used to take the gun out sometimes to shoot it in the woods.”
“Good heavens!” Elizabeth stared at him in amazement. “Did Mother know about that?”
“Of course not, madam.” Martin found the dozen or so hairs on his head with his fingers and smoothed them in place. “This was strictly between us men. Women have no business around guns.”
Elizabeth bristled at that but, under the circumstances, decided to let it go. “You could have killed the major,” she said sternly. “I do not want you to ever touch that gun again.”
Martin gave her a haughty look from under his brows. “It wasn’t loaded,” he said, managing to sound dignified in spite of his disheveled appearance.
“What do you mean it wasn’t loaded?” Elizabeth folded her arms. “What on earth was all that noise, then? Not to mention the smoke.”
Martin shook his head. “That was just the gunpowder going off. There wasn’t any ammunition in the barrel. I put the gunpowder in when I heard about the invasion, ready for loading in case we were attacked.” He frowned. “I’d forgotten it was in there. I just wanted to frighten the blighter, that was all. Take him captive until the police got here.” He twisted his head to look around the room. “Where is he, anyway? Blighter hasn’t escaped again, has he?”