The Silver Ghost Read Online Free Page B

eat?”
    “He’s not supposed to. He got a lunch break at noon and a coffee break at three o’clock. He’s not due for another till six. One of the potboys is supposed to come by every hour on the hour to see if he needs a quick relief, and stay till he gets back. Bill left strict orders that the gate’s not to be left unguarded for a single minute. Besides, Rufus—that’s his name—is part of the entertainment. He’s in mediaeval peasant costume and carries a Totschläger. ”
    “What’s that, some kind of war club?”
    “A flail, actually; a hollow handle with a ball of iron attached to the tip by a short chain. They were designed for bashing holes in an opponent’s armor and came in a great many variations, jocosely referred to en masse as holy water sprinklers. Those mediaeval knights were a barrel of laughs. They had one that had a big ball studded with long iron spikes. It was called a Morgenstern, which of course means morning star. Totschläger just means dead-whacker or something of the sort, so Bill’s great-grandfather probably got the name wrong. Not that it matters. This whole revel’s about as authentically Renaissance as a Cranach painted on Masonite, as you must have realized by now.”
    “Rufus isn’t supposed to flail anybody, then.”
    “Oh, no, the Weapon’s just there to provide positive reinforcement in case guests insist too much on being admitted to the car shed. Bill doesn’t want anybody in there because they all know his collection and would notice the New Phantom was missing.”
    “Couldn’t he say the Phantom was off at a rally or something?”
    “Bill tell a lie? You’ve got to be kidding.” Max took hold of the padlock and rattled it against the gate. Nothing happened.
    “Sarah, I don’t like this a bit. Would you mind going back to the pavilion by yourself and finding Bill? You’d better stick to the drive, it’s shorter. Don’t push the panic button, just get Bill aside. Tell him we found the gate unguarded and thought he’d better know.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    Sarah gathered up her train and started toward the house, sticking to the grassy verge and studying the gravel as she went along. Inside the fence, the gravel had been raked smooth as an ironing board. If Rufus had gone inside to the car shed, he must have walked on the narrow strip of grass that edged the turnaround. Outside the gate, there had been some scuffing of the gravel where the sentry might have paced or guests ambled over to chuckle at Rufus with his Totschläger.
    Aunt Bodie must have been among the most recent visitors, assuming she had in fact come here with the expectation of sitting in one of the cars. Sarah would be surprised if it turned out she hadn’t. Boadicea Kelling wasn’t one to indulge in idle chat. Had she bulldozed Rufus into letting her enter the car shed in defiance of Mr. Billingsgate’s orders, then dragged him off to confess his dereliction? Sarah wouldn’t put it past her.
    Or had she irritated Rufus into chasing after her with his Totschläger? Sarah found something oddly agreeable in the thought of Aunt Bodie’s being put to rout by a mediaeval peasant, even a make-believe one.
    But it wouldn’t do. Aunt Bodie wouldn’t flee to the bee fields, she’d do a brisk about-face and march back to the pavilion. She’d deliver a concise report of the regrettable incident to whichever Billingsgate she happened to meet first; then she’d append a polite but firm request that this nonsense be stopped and she be admitted forthwith to the car shed.
    She must have gone for her four-mile walk, after all. It was to be hoped she’d continue walking until whatever was wrong at the car shed could be ironed out. Sarah walked faster, found the door to the long hallway, and had the luck to encounter Mrs. Billingsgate coming back into the house for more shawls.
    “Oh Abigail, I’m so glad it’s you. Could you possibly do Max and me a big favor?”
    “Of course, Sarah, what is