“King Edward sings music-hall songs,” protested Rose. “His favourite is: ‘Hey, hi. Stop, waiter! Waiter! Fizz! Pop! I’m Racketty Jack, no money I lack, And I’m the boy for a spree!’”
“But just think if the doctor informs your parents of your behaviour!”
“Then it is up to us to find something dramatic in the records,” said Rose, “so that then no one will be able to think of anything else.”
♦
Dinner was a long and tedious affair, enlivened only by the effect Sir Gerald was having on the grim American, Miss Fairfax. They were seated together and he seemed to consider all her blunt utterances the highest form of wit. The more he laughed, the more Miss Fairfax glowed.
To his amusement, Harry, on the other side of Miss Fairfax, heard Gerald saying at one point, “You really must let me take you around when we are both in London. I see you in midnight taffeta with a high-boned collar, very grande dame.”
“I’ve never bothered about fripperies,” said Miss Fairfax.
“But you must, dear lady,” said Gerald. “And your hair would be magnificent if it were red.”
“Wicked boy,” she said with a great bray of laughter.
So enamoured was Miss Fairfax of Gerald’s company that she only turned once to Harry during the long meal and that was to ask him what the hunting was like in the countryside around. When Harry replied that he did not hunt, she said, “I should have known,” and turned back to Gerald.
Harry had told Rose he would leave the castle at two in the morning. He now wondered whether he should trick her and leave earlier. He had a sudden picture of her standing up in his motor car with her arm around Daisy, singing her heart out. She had looked really young and carefree for the first time since he had known her.
Lady Hedley was complaining that police had been crawling over the roof of the castle all day. “All Lady Rose’s fault,” she said loudly. “The young women of today are prone to fantasies and hysterics.”
Rose felt like shouting a denial down the table but kept quiet. She had told Daisy to use her wiles on Becket and make sure Harry did not change his mind about taking her with him.
♦
Daisy had rummaged in the hamper of costumes for charades and had managed to get two boys’ outfits. Giggling nervously, they put them on and crammed their hair up under a couple of tweed hats. Long overcoats completed their disguise. Before they changed into their costumes, Rose told the constable on duty that she would sleep in her mother’s room that night and suggested he take up his guarding duties outside Lady Had-shire’s door.
Becket had told Rose firmly that if his master planned to leave them behind there was nothing he could do about it. So it was with relief that they saw the car parked on the other side of the moat. They hurried across the drawbridge, Rose clutching Daisy’s arm and looking nervously to right and left.
When they climbed in, Harry let in the clutch and cruised down the slope away from the castle, not switching on the engine until they were well clear. Once out on the road towards Creinton, he stopped the car and got out and lit the headlights, climbed back in and set off again.
Rose found driving in the dark very exciting, fascinated by the square of light the two headlamps created before them.
When Harry reached the outskirts of Creinton, he parked the car under some trees, got out and extinguished the headlamps and said, “Now, Lady Rose, you and Daisy are to stay here with Becket to protect you. I will be as quick as I can.”
“But I wanted to be a burglar,” protested Rose.
“Stay here and don’t dare move,” hissed Harry.
“Spoilsport,” muttered Rose. “Honestly, Becket, there was really no reason for us to come. This is not an adventure.”
“It’s better this way, Lady Rose. If the captain gets caught, it won’t be nearly so bad as if you were found with him. Imagine the headlines in the newspapers. There are still two reporters staying at the pub in Telby.”
♦
Harry walked swiftly along, glad it was one of the days when his leg was not paining him. When he reached the square, he felt very exposed and kept close to the buildings, relieved there was no moon.
When he turned the key in the side door, the lock gave a loud click, which, to his ears, seemed to echo around the silent town like a pistol shot. He waited for a moment, Ustening, and then opened the door and went in. He lit a dark lantern. He found himself in a small kitchen. The door leading out of it was fortunately bolted on his side. He slid back the bolts, top and bottom, and found himself in a narrow passage. Ahead lay the front door, the panes of stained glass on the upper panels gleaming faintly. He remembered that he had entered the waiting-room on the right with Rose and then had gone through to the surgery. There was a door before he reached the waiting-room door, which probably led into the surgery. He tried the handle. It was locked. He hurried along to the waiting-room door. Locked as well. Both were stout mahogany doors. He tried a door on the other side of the corridor. Locked as well.
There was a staircase facing the front door. Perhaps some old files were kept in the upper rooms. Harry crept up the stairs. There were three doors leading off a landing. All were locked.
He retreated to the kitchen, defeated. He could possibly find some implement in the kitchen that might jemmy the door to the surgery open, but that would lead to a full police investigation. All he wanted to do was to read Lord Hedley’s file. He sat down for a moment at the kitchen table to rest. Rose was going to be so disappointed in him, he thought with a wry smile.
Perhaps there might be something he could use to pick the lock. But he had never picked a lock before and hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it.
There was a Welsh dresser against one wall. He set the lantern down on it and opened the first drawer. It was full of knives and forks and spoons. He picked up one of the knives. It had been cleaned so many times with Bath brick that it was thin and fragile. He put it back and opened the other drawer.
At first he could not believe his eyes. He held up the lantern and stared down. The drawer held keys with labels attached.
One label read ‘Front Door’, another ‘Waiting-Room’. There was even one marked ‘Safe’.
Harry grinned and selected the one marked ‘Surgery’. He was about to leave the kitchen when he heard footsteps in the alley outside. He extinguished the lantern and crept to the kitchen door and locked it and then crouched down. The footsteps came closer. A hand rattled the door. Then the footsteps moved on. Glancing up, Harry saw a police helmet bobbing past the window. The constable on his nightly rounds.
He waited and then cautiously relit the lantern and made his way to the surgery and unlocked the door.
He searched along the rows of files, looking for a folder marked ‘Lord Hedley’, but there was nothing there.
It might be in one of the upstairs rooms, thought Harry. I should never have let Rose come. This might take all night and she might do something silly like come looking for me.
He went back to the kitchen and collected the keys to the upstairs rooms. The first had been a bedroom, but the bed was now piled high with odds and ends and the rest of the room was full of discarded furniture.
The next room was an office with a roll-top desk. There were bookshelves all round, mil of medical books, some very old indeed. And beside the fire stood a large safe. Harry studied it. To his relief, it was an old-fashioned one without a combination lock. He went back to the kitchen and collected the safe key and went upstairs again.
He unlocked the safe and knelt down in front of it, the lantern on the floor beside him.
There were various items of jewellery in a box:a gold half hunter, dress studs, a gold Albert and a gold toothpick. Another box contained, to his surprise, an opium pipe and a small quantity of opium. Was Dr. Perriman an opium smoker? Or had that vice been one of the late Dr. Jenner’s? There were various title deeds and business papers, and a cash box containing a few hundred pounds.