Sleepless Knights Read Online Free Page A

of envious applause. Lance kissed her on both cheeks, and presented her with a gold envelope and a magnum of champagne. “Ladies and gentlemen. Charge your glasses, and join me in a toast. To… er… To…” He patted his breast pocket absently. The audience fell silent, save for a solitary cough.
    This was it, then.
    â€œJoin me, in raising your glasses to…” A murmur of concern passed through the crowd. I swiftly made my way to the front of the hall.
    â€œIn raising a toast, to the charming and deserving…” Lance De Troyes loosened his tie. “Forgive me, friends,” he said, “but I feel far from hale and hearty this evening.”
    With that, he tottered on his feet and keeled forwards.
    The crowd’s murmur exploded into a full-blown gasp. The lectern was upturned — knocking over a side table and a jug of water — as Lance De Troyes fell like a cut oak. I caught him by the shoulders, mere inches before he hit the ground, and gently lowered him the rest of the way to the floor. Kathleen Bliss let out a curdling scream. The horror-struck crowd were about to press in upon us when Mr Crossley intervened. “Please, stand back, give us some room,” he said, crouching beside the body of his master and feeling for a pulse. “Mr Lucas. Is he —?”
    â€œHelp me convey him to the drawing room,” I replied. His sentence was best finished behind closed doors. I wished to avoid the pandemonium that would undoubtedly ensue, should the crowd get wind of the fact that Lance De Troyes was dead.
    It is to Mr Crossley’s eternal credit that, following his master’s sudden demise, decorum defined the hour. A doctorattending the dinner was brought to the body, confirmed the death, cause as yet unknown, and was assured by myself that the necessary arrangements would be made. The distraught yet diligent house staff calmed the guests with the temporary cover story that their host had collapsed from exhaustion, before clearing the premises. Then they too were dismissed, having been informed of the sad news, and that their employer, mindful of a congenital heart condition, had made ample provision for their welfare. Only when the last of them had gone did Mr Crossley’s shoulders droop by so much as a fraction.
    â€œWell, Mr Lucas,” he said, brushing away some dust from his master’s jacket, “I shall contact the ambulance service.”
    â€œThank you, Mr Crossley, but I will see to things from here. Go and get some rest.”
    â€œThank you, Mr Lucas, but I would rather attend to it personally. There will be statements to make, documents to sign.”
    â€œAll of that is to be undertaken by myself as executor, as stipulated in Mr De Troyes’ last will and testament,” I said, moving to the drawing room safe and producing the document for his perusal. “It was his desire that you be spared any of the unpleasant but necessary matters that would follow his untimely demise.” Mr Crossley’s eyes passed along each page until they reached the signature at the end.
    â€œI see,” he said, folding the will and handing it back. “Then I have little choice but to bid you goodnight.”
    â€œGoodnight, Mr Crossley. You will be notified of the funeral arrangements. My deepest condolences.”
    â€œThank you, Mr Lucas. Farewell, sir.”
    â€ 
    The moment the mansion was out of sight I turned the Jaguar into a secluded lane and regarded the body of the deceased, propped up on the back seat and hastily covered with a picnic blanket. With mounting trepidation, I removed the thermos flask kept in the glove compartment for emergency scenarios such as this. I dispensed a measure of liquid which gently steamed like hot tea. I turned so that I was kneeling in the driver’s seat. With one hand, I drew back the makeshift shroud and lowered Lance De Troyes’ chin. With the other hand, I carefully