Borrower of the Night - Elizabeth Peters [44]
When we adjourned to the lounge, I managed to take Tony aside.
‘What ails you? Somebody hurt your feelings?’
‘It’s that Nolan,’ said Tony, adding a few qualifying adjectives. ‘Do you know what that rat said to me today? This afternoon I met him in the Hall, and do you know what he said?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘But maybe you will tell me what he said.’
‘He said – ’ Tony choked. ‘He said he didn’t like the way things were going around here. He said he suspected there was dirty work afoot. He said’ – I really thought for a minute Tony was strangling – ‘he said he was willing to forget our differences and combine forces, because I needed – I needed a man of action in on this caper!’
‘Well, now, that was thoughtful,’ I said; and then, because Tony really was mad, I changed the subject. ‘I talked to Irma today. Guess what she said to me. She said – ’
‘Cut it out,’ Tony growled.
‘She’s the Drachenstein heir,’ I said. ‘The castle and its contents belong to her. The old lady has the right to live here as long as she likes, but the place is Irma’s.’
‘It sure is, from the kitchen to the scullery.’ As I hoped, Tony was sufficiently distracted by this information to forget his wrath. ‘Oh ho and aha. That is interesting.’
‘I thought so,’ I said. And then George turned back, with a jovial question about our plans for the evening, and I led Tony away before he lost his temper again.
To my relief, Miss Burton wasn’t in the lounge that night. I couldn’t have faced her. Tony went to the piano and started to pound out a weird medley of tunes, from rock and roll to Gilbert and Sullivan. He plays by ear, and he doesn’t play too badly; but the piano almost defeated him. I don’t know when, if ever, it had been tuned.
Seeing Schmidt reading a newspaper on the sofa, I headed for him. My attempts to pump him were singularly unsuccessful.
‘I took my degree at Leipzig,’ he admitted finally. ‘But that was many years ago, my child, long before you were born. Ah, how charmingly the professor plays Beethoven. A friendly tribute to Germany.’
The sounds coming from the piano would have made Beethoven spin in his crypt, but I didn’t have the heart to hassle Schmidt anymore. There was a pinched grey look around his mouth, and when I asked after his health, as tactfully as possible – I can be tactful when I feel like it – he shook his head.
‘I have, they tell me, a slight condition of the heart. It is not serious; but the events of these last days have not been something for me. If you will excuse me, I think I will seek my bed.’
Tony made his excuses not long after that. I eluded George, who wanted to chat about our mutual friend Tilman R., and followed Tony. When he said good-night, at the door of his room, my suspicions were confirmed. I knew that sweet innocent smile of his. We had agreed to share information, but only up to a point.
Sure enough, a couple of hours later I heard his door open. I almost didn’t hear it. After everyone else had gone to bed I turned out my light, propped my door open about half an inch, and sat down on the floor next to the crack.
The rain had stopped by that time, and the moon poured cold silver light through the open window. The slow drip of moisture from the leaves was as soothing as a lullaby. My eyelids got heavy . . .
What with sleepiness and stiffness, it took me a couple of minutes to get limbered up and follow Tony. I had planned to bounce out at him, figuring