The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [29]
“Yes, the builder may have had some desire to view the sea,” he replied. “I believe that a close examination of the topographical maps would show a correlation between that tower and the gap in the hills over there.”
“They do.”
“Ah, so that was where you went while I was lacing on my boots.”
“To look at your maps, yes. I don’t know this part of the downs as well as you do, so I thought I would take a glance at how the land lies.”
“I think we may assume that the upper rooms in the tower are those of Richard Barker. Put on a casual, happen-to-be-in-the-neighbourhood face, now, Russell, here’s the gentleman himself.”
He raised his voice, calling “Hello, the house!”
His hail had two immediate and astonishing results. The old gen-tleman shot from his sunlit chair, turned his back to us and waved his hands in the air, shouting unintelligibly. Holmes and I looked at each other curiously, but the reason for his extraordinary behaviour was ap-parent in another instant, as a pack of what looked like forty dogs came baying and scrabbling across the terrace towards us. The multi-coloured sea parted around the old gentleman, ignoring his frantic waves entirely. Holmes and I stepped slightly apart and readied the heavy walking sticks we always carried for such occasions, but the ca-nine mob was not out for blood and simply encircled us, baying, yap-ping, and barking madly. The old man came up, his mouth moving, but his presence made absolutely no impact. However, another man came running around the corner of the house, followed shortly by a third, and waded into the sea, seizing scruffs, tails, and fistfuls of fur. Their voices gradually prevailed, and order was slowly restored. Having done their jobs, the dogs sat and stood merrily awaiting further fun, tongues lolling, tails wagging. At this point Mrs. Barker came from the house, and the dogs and her husband all turned to her.
“My dear,” said he in a thin voice, “something really must be done about these dogs.”
She looked sternly at the dogs and spoke to them.
“Shame on you. Is this how you act when neighbours come to visit? You should know better than that.”
The effect of her words on the crowd was instantaneous. Jaws snapped shut, heads went down, tails were tucked in. Looking totally abashed and glancing at us guiltily, the dogs tiptoed silently away. There were only seventeen of them, I noticed, ranging from two tiny Yorkshire terriers to a massive wolfhound who could easily have weighed eleven stone. Mrs. Barker stood with her hands on her hips as the last of them disappeared into the shrubbery, then turned to us, shaking her head.
“I am very sorry for that. We have so few visitors, I’m afraid they become overly excited.”
“Let dogs delight to bark and bite, for God hath made them so,” Holmes commented politely, if unexpectedly. “We ought not to have come here unannounced, for their sakes if not yours. My name is Holmes; this is Mary Russell. We were out for a walk and wished for a closer view of your handsome home. We’ll not bother you further.”
“No, no,” said Mrs. Barker before her husband could speak. “You must come in for refreshment. A glass of sherry, or is it not too early for tea? Tea it is, then. We are neighbours, I believe. I’ve seen you from the road. I am Mrs. Barker; this is my husband.” She turned to the other two men. “Thank you, Ron, they’ll be quiet now. Terrence, could you please tell Mrs. Woods that we will take tea now, and there will be four. We’ll be in the conservatory in a few minutes. Thank you.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Barker. I am sure Miss Russell is as in need of refreshment as I am after our walk.” He turned to the older man, who had stood watching his wife affectionately as she dealt with dogs, guests, and men. “Mr. Barker, this is a most interesting building.