The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) Read Online Free
Author: Clara Benson
before she could do so she was forestalled by Mary, who saw that her friend was not entirely sympathetic to Jonathan’s cause, and was determined to rescue the situation.
‘I know it sounds a little absurd,’ she said in her most persuasive voice, taking Angela’s hand, ‘but we’d—I’d be most grateful if you’d agree to help, Angela. You won’t have to do very much, you know—just make an appointment to sit for Mrs. Quinn and then tell us your impressions afterwards. I’d do it myself, but of course it’s impossible in my position, and you were always so clever at seeing through people. If she’s up to no good then I just know you’ll be able to tell straightaway.’
‘But what if there’s nothing to discover?’ said Angela. ‘I dare say she employs various tricks and artifices to create effects during her séances, but that’s hardly proof that she is committing the more serious crimes of which you suspect her, is it? To discover evidence of outright fraud would take more than a half-an-hour appointment, surely? Why, it would require a proper police investigation, and I can’t help you with that.’
‘If you don’t discover anything then we’ll consider the matter settled and say no more about it,’ said Mary.
It was an empty promise, as Angela knew full well, since Jonathan was not one to abandon a perfectly good idée fixe once it had taken hold. She was about to demur again but the sight of Mrs. Ainsley’s careworn face and hopeful expression caused her to hesitate. Mary’s life could not be an easy one, and they had been good friends at one time. And a day or two would not make much difference to her holiday, she supposed. Venice could wait. There was one thing on which she was determined to stand firm, however.
‘I had better not stay here with you,’ she said, ‘or everyone will surely suspect what I am about. Is there a decent hotel in Stresa?’
Mary saw that the game was won.
‘I was just thinking the very same thing,’ she replied. ‘Of course you must go to the Hotel del Lago. It’s quite the best one in the place, and all the English people go there, including the Quinns. Mr. Morandi is the owner and he’s the most incorrigible gossip. You’ll easily be able to learn all kinds of things you couldn’t possibly find out if you stayed with us. It’s still early in the season so there are bound to be rooms available.’
‘I had better go there, then,’ said Angela. ‘It sounds the very place.’
‘Then you’ll do it,’ said Mary, clapping her hands together with pleasure. ‘Thank you, Angela, I’m so glad. You can go to the hotel tomorrow, but you must stay with us tonight. It’s the least we can do after spoiling your holiday.’
‘You haven’t spoilt it at all,’ said Angela, and it was not entirely a lie, for although she did not see eye to eye with Jonathan in the case, she had never sat for a medium before, and was in truth rather intrigued by the idea. Besides, she liked the look of Stresa and was keen to see more of it. A day or two of fresh air would be delightful; a much-needed pause for rest and refreshment before she ventured into the close and heady atmosphere of the city once again.
And so Angela resigned herself to her fate.
THREE
As its name suggested, the Hotel del Lago was situated down by the water, and commanded spectacular views of Lake Maggiore itself, as well as of the mountains and villages on the opposite shore at the point where the lake forked, its right-hand branch stretching miles into the distance up to and beyond the Swiss border. The hotel itself was a stately edifice, although not more than about fifty years old, and flaunted its gay grandeur shamelessly, its white-painted façade and flower-bedecked balconies seeming to betoken a state of permanent spring-time. It was pleasant to sit on the hotel terrace in the shade of a striped canopy, idly watching the little boats and the steamers cross to and fro as they ferried
‘I know it sounds a little absurd,’ she said in her most persuasive voice, taking Angela’s hand, ‘but we’d—I’d be most grateful if you’d agree to help, Angela. You won’t have to do very much, you know—just make an appointment to sit for Mrs. Quinn and then tell us your impressions afterwards. I’d do it myself, but of course it’s impossible in my position, and you were always so clever at seeing through people. If she’s up to no good then I just know you’ll be able to tell straightaway.’
‘But what if there’s nothing to discover?’ said Angela. ‘I dare say she employs various tricks and artifices to create effects during her séances, but that’s hardly proof that she is committing the more serious crimes of which you suspect her, is it? To discover evidence of outright fraud would take more than a half-an-hour appointment, surely? Why, it would require a proper police investigation, and I can’t help you with that.’
‘If you don’t discover anything then we’ll consider the matter settled and say no more about it,’ said Mary.
It was an empty promise, as Angela knew full well, since Jonathan was not one to abandon a perfectly good idée fixe once it had taken hold. She was about to demur again but the sight of Mrs. Ainsley’s careworn face and hopeful expression caused her to hesitate. Mary’s life could not be an easy one, and they had been good friends at one time. And a day or two would not make much difference to her holiday, she supposed. Venice could wait. There was one thing on which she was determined to stand firm, however.
‘I had better not stay here with you,’ she said, ‘or everyone will surely suspect what I am about. Is there a decent hotel in Stresa?’
Mary saw that the game was won.
‘I was just thinking the very same thing,’ she replied. ‘Of course you must go to the Hotel del Lago. It’s quite the best one in the place, and all the English people go there, including the Quinns. Mr. Morandi is the owner and he’s the most incorrigible gossip. You’ll easily be able to learn all kinds of things you couldn’t possibly find out if you stayed with us. It’s still early in the season so there are bound to be rooms available.’
‘I had better go there, then,’ said Angela. ‘It sounds the very place.’
‘Then you’ll do it,’ said Mary, clapping her hands together with pleasure. ‘Thank you, Angela, I’m so glad. You can go to the hotel tomorrow, but you must stay with us tonight. It’s the least we can do after spoiling your holiday.’
‘You haven’t spoilt it at all,’ said Angela, and it was not entirely a lie, for although she did not see eye to eye with Jonathan in the case, she had never sat for a medium before, and was in truth rather intrigued by the idea. Besides, she liked the look of Stresa and was keen to see more of it. A day or two of fresh air would be delightful; a much-needed pause for rest and refreshment before she ventured into the close and heady atmosphere of the city once again.
And so Angela resigned herself to her fate.
THREE
As its name suggested, the Hotel del Lago was situated down by the water, and commanded spectacular views of Lake Maggiore itself, as well as of the mountains and villages on the opposite shore at the point where the lake forked, its right-hand branch stretching miles into the distance up to and beyond the Swiss border. The hotel itself was a stately edifice, although not more than about fifty years old, and flaunted its gay grandeur shamelessly, its white-painted façade and flower-bedecked balconies seeming to betoken a state of permanent spring-time. It was pleasant to sit on the hotel terrace in the shade of a striped canopy, idly watching the little boats and the steamers cross to and fro as they ferried
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