Secret of Chimneys - Agatha Christie [81]
‘Looking for something, are you?’ asked Bundle quickly. ‘Not the historic what-not, by any chance?’
Lemoine looked puzzled.
‘Explain yourself, Bundle,’ said Virginia encouragingly. ‘You can when you try.’
‘The thingummybob,’ said Bundle. ‘The historic diamond of purple princes that was pinched in the dark ages before I grew to years of discretion.’
‘Who told you this, Lady Eileen?’ asked Battle.
‘I’ve always known. One of the footmen told me when I was twelve years old.’
‘A footman,’ said Battle. ‘Lord! I’d like Mr Lomax to have heard that!’
‘Is it one of George’s closely guarded secrets?’ asked Bundle. ‘How perfectly screaming! I never really thought it was true. George always was an ass–he must know that servants know everything.’
She went across to the Holbein portrait, touched a spring concealed somewhere at the side of it, and immediately, with a creaking noise, a section of the panelling swung inwards, revealing a dark opening.
‘Entrez, messieurs et mesdames,’ said Bundle dramatically. ‘Walk up, walk up, walk up, dearies. Best show of the season, and only a tanner.’
Both Lemoine and Battle were provided with torches. They entered the dark aperture first, the others close on their heels.
‘Air’s nice and fresh,’ remarked Battle. ‘Must be ventilated somehow.’
He walked on ahead. The floor was rough uneven stone, but the walls were bricked. As Bundle had said, the passage extended for a bare hundred yards. Then it came to an abrupt end with a fallen heap of masonry. Battle satisfied himself that there was no way of egress beyond, and then spoke over his shoulder.
‘We’ll go back, if you please. I wanted just to spy out the land, so to speak.’
In a few minutes they were back again at the panelled entrance.
‘We’ll start from here,’ said Battle. ‘Seven straight, eight left, three right. Take the first as paces.’
He paced seven steps carefully, and bending down examined the ground.
‘About right, I should fancy. At one time or another, there’s been a chalk mark made here. Now then, eight left. That’s not paces, the passage is only wide enough to go Indian file, anyway.’
‘Say it in bricks,’ suggested Anthony.
‘Quite right, Mr Cade. Eight bricks from the bottom or the top on the left-hand side. Try from the bottom first–it’s easier.’
He counted up eight bricks.
‘Now three to the right of that. One, two, three–Hullo–Hullo, what’s this?’
‘I shall scream in a minute,’ said Bundle, ‘I know I shall. What is it?’
Superintendent Battle was working at the brick with the point of his knife. His practised eye had quickly seen that this particular brick was different from the rest. A minute or two’s work, and he was able to pull it right out. Behind was a small dark cavity. Battle thrust in his hand.
Everyone waited in breathless expectancy.
Battle drew out his hand again.
He uttered an exclamation of surprise and anger.
The others crowded round and stared uncomprehendingly at the three articles he held. For a moment it seemed as though their eyes must have deceived them.
A card of small pearl buttons, a square of coarse knitting, and a piece of paper on which were inscribed a row of capital E’s!
‘Well,’ said Battle. ‘I’m–I’m danged. What’s the meaning of this?’
‘Mon Dieu,’ muttered the Frenchman. ‘Ça, c’est un peu trop fort!’
‘But what does it mean?’ cried Virginia, bewildered.
‘Mean?’ said Anthony. ‘There’s only one thing it can mean. The late Count Stylptitch must have had a sense of humour! This is an example of that humour. I may say that I don’t consider it particularly funny myself.’
‘Do you mind explaining your meaning a little more clearly, sir?’ said the Superintendent Battle.
‘Certainly. This was the Count’s little joke. He must have suspected that his memorandum had been read. When the crooks came to recover the jewel, they were to find instead this extremely clever conundrum. It’s the sort of thing you pin on to yourself at Book Teas, when people have to guess what you are.’
‘It has a meaning, then?’
‘I should say, undoubtedly. If the Count had meant to be