The rest of the party proceeded downstairs in a silent cortège, and convened in the dining room, where Tabitha was once again placidly employed with her knitting, and Mr Sloane sat beside her, a look of the utmost horror drawn on his face.
‘Well,’ said Hilary, when nobody else showed signs of beginning the conversation, ‘Norman seems to have claimed his first victim.’
‘So it would appear.’
‘But then, appearances can be deceptive,’ said Michael.
Thomas rounded on him.
‘What on earth are you blathering on about, man? We know there’s a lunatic on the loose. Are you telling me you don’t think he’s responsible for this?’
‘It’s one of the theories available: that’s all.’
‘I see. Well perhaps you’d be so good as to tell us what the others are, in that case.’
‘Yes, come on, out with it,’ said Mark. ‘Who else could have killed him?’
‘Why, any one of us, of course.’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Thomas. ‘How could any of us have done it, when we were all down here having supper?’
‘Nobody had seen Henry since the will was read,’ Michael pointed out. ‘Between then and supper, we were all of us alone, at one time or another. I don’t rule anybody out.’
‘You’re talking rubbish,’ said Mark. ‘He can only have been killed a few minutes ago. You forget that I was watching the television with him, for a while, when you were all down here eating.’
‘Well, that’s your story,’ said Michael coolly.
‘Are you calling me a liar? What else do you suppose I was doing?’
‘You could have been doing anything, for all I know. Perhaps you were on the telephone to your friend Saddam, helping him out with a last-minute order.’
‘You impudent swine! Take that back.’
‘I’m afraid that intriguing hypothesis will have to be discounted,’ said Roddy, who had slipped out into the hall, and now returned carrying a telephone. The cord had been roughly snapped in two. ‘As you can see, the service seems to have been temporarily suspended. I found this out because, unlike the rest of you, I had the sense to think of phoning for the police.’
‘Well, it isn’t too late,’ said Hilary. ‘There’s a telephone in my room as well. Come on — if we hurry, we might still get to it before he does.’
Mark smiled a superior smile after them as they hurried out of the room.
‘I’m amazed that people still rely on these primitive methods of communication,’ he said. ‘You brought your cell-phone up here, didn’t you, Thomas?’
The elderly banker blinked in surprise. ‘That’s right: of course I did. Never without it. Can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it before.’
‘Where did you leave it, can you remember?’
‘Billiard room, I think. Had a few frames with Roddy before you arrived.’
‘I’ll just go and get it. We should have this business wrapped up in no time at all.’
He sauntered out, leaving Michael and Thomas to glower silently at one another. Meanwhile Mr Sloane began to pace the room, and Tabitha carried on with her knitting as if nothing had happened. Before long she was quietly humming a tune to herself — dimly identifiable, after a few bars, as ‘Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines’.
‘Has anyone seen Pyles lately?’ Thomas asked, when he could stand no more of this.
Mr Sloane shook his head.
‘Well, hadn’t someone better find him? He certainly wasn’t with us in the dining room all the time. What do you say, Owen — shall we try to track him down?’
Michael was lost in thought, and didn’t appear to have heard this question.
‘All right then — I’ll go and find the fellow myself.’
‘And now we are three,’ said Tabitha happily, once Thomas had gone. ‘I’ve never known so much running about. What a to-do! Have we started to play sardines?’
Mr Sloane shot her a withering glance.
‘What a long face you’re wearing, Michael!’ she exclaimed, after a little more humming. ‘Not entering into the party spirit? Or perhaps you’re beginning to get a few thoughts about how your book might end?’
‘There was something strange about those suits of armour at the top of the stairs,’ said Michael, taking no notice, and continuing with his own line of thought. ‘Something about them had changed, when we came past them just now. I can’t put my finger on it.’
Without another word, he got up and made his way to the hall. He was about to climb the staircase when he saw Pyles coming from the kitchen, a silver tray balanced precariously on his arm.
‘Enjoying your visit, Mr Owen?’ he asked.
‘Thomas has been looking for you. Did you see him?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Did they tell you what had happened?’
‘Yes. And it’s only the start. I’ve known it all along, you see: this whole house is doomed, and everyone in it!’
Michael patted him on the back. ‘Keep up the good work.’
When he reached the top of the staircase, he examined both suits of armour in detail. They were still in the same positions, and nothing seemed obviously awry. And yet surely, some subtle alteration had been made … Michael had the sense that he was being very obtuse, that he was missing something important which was staring him in the face. He looked again.
And then he saw it. At once a dreadful suspicion stole over him.
There was a loud crash from the direction of the billiard room. Michael ran down the stairs and almost collided with Mr Sloane in the hall. Together they ran towards the noise and burst in to discover Pyles collapsed in a chair, having dropped his tray to the floor.
‘I came in to collect the empty glasses,’ he said. ‘And then I saw—’
Their eyes followed his trembling finger. Mark Winshaw was slumped against the wall. At first Michael thought that his hands had been tied behind his back: then he realized that the body had been horribly mutilated. The missing axe from the suit of armour, its blade red and sticky, had been left on top of the billiard table; and protruding hideously from the two pockets at the baulk end were Mark’s severed limbs. To complete the macabre joke, a message had been scrawled in blood on the wall.
It said: A FAREWELL TO ARMS!
CHAPTER FIVE
A Lady Mislaid
‘Now the important thing,’ said Thomas, ‘is that we all remain calm, and civilized.’
They were gathered in the dining room again, sitting amidst the debris of their supper. Their faces, for the most part, were chalky and haggard. Tabitha alone was blissfully unmindful of the latest shocking turn of events, while Pyles, who had now joined them at the table, wore a crooked, fatalistic smile, having already delivered himself of the helpful opinion that ‘There’ll be more to come, before the night is out! Many more!’ The only (living) member of the family not in attendance was Dorothy, who for the time being was nowhere to be found. Out of doors, there seemed little promise of an end to the storm.
‘I suggest that we proceed on the assumption,’ Thomas continued, ‘that a madman is loose in the house, bent on the random slaughter of anyone with whom he comes into contact.’
Michael sighed. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
The others looked to him for explication.
‘There’s been nothing random about these killings so far,’ he said.
‘Would you care to explain yourself?’
He turned towards Hilary. ‘All right then: what were your first words when you saw that Henry had been stabbed in the back?’
‘I can’t remember,’ said Hilary, shrugging carelessly.
‘They were “How appropriate”. They struck me as rather curious, even at the time. What did you mean by them, exactly?’