The Seven Dials Mystery - Agatha Christie [32]
She and Bill stayed here for about half an hour. Then Bill grew restive.
‘Let’s get out of this place, Bundle, and go on dancing.’
Bundle agreed. There was nothing to be seen here. They went down again. They danced for another half-hour, had fish and chips, and then Bundle declared herself ready to go home.
‘But it’s so early,’ Bill protested.
‘No, it isn’t. Not really. And, anyway, I’ve got a long day in front of me to-morrow.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘That depends,’ said Bundle mysteriously. ‘But I can tell you this, Bill, the grass is not going to grow under my feet.’
‘It never does, said Mr Eversleigh.
Chapter 12
Inquiries at Chimneys
Bundle’s temperament was certainly not inherited from her father, whose prevailing characteristic was a wholly amiable inertia. As Bill Eversleigh had very justly remarked, the grass never did grow under Bundle’s feet.
On the morning following her dinner with Bill, Bundle woke full of energy. She had three distinct plans which she meant to put into operation that day, and she realized that she was going to be slightly hampered by the limits of time and space.
Fortunately she did not suffer from the affliction of Gerry Wade, Ronny Devereux and Jimmy Thesiger–that of not being able to get up in the morning. Sir Oswald Coote himself would have had no fault to find with her on the score of early rising. At half-past eight Bundle had breakfasted and was on her way to Chimneys in the Hispano.
Her father seemed mildly pleased to see her.
‘I never know when you’re going to turn up,’ he said. ‘But this will save me ringing up, which I hate. Colonel Melrose was here yesterday about the inquest.’
Colonel Melrose was Chief Constable of the county, and an old friend of Lord Caterham.
‘You mean the inquest of Ronny Devereux? When is it to be?’
‘Tomorrow. Twelve o’clock. Melrose will call for you. Having found the body, you’ll have to give evidence, but he said you needn’t be at all alarmed.’
‘Why on earth should I be alarmed?’
‘Well, you know,’ said Lord Caterham apologetically, ‘Melrose is a bit old-fashioned.’
‘Twelve o’clock,’ said Bundle. ‘Good. I shall be here, if I’m still alive.’
‘Have you any reason to anticipate not being alive?’
‘One never knows,’ said Bundle. ‘The strain of modern life–as the newspapers say.’
‘Which reminds me that George Lomax asked me to come over to the Abbey next week. I refused, of course.’
‘Quite right,’ said Bundle. ‘We don’t want you mixed up in any funny business.’
‘Is there going to be any funny business?’ asked Lord Caterham with a sudden awakening of interest.
‘Well–warning letters and all that, you know,’ said Bundle.
‘Perhaps George is going to be assassinated,’ said Lord Caterham hopefully. ‘What do you think, Bundle–perhaps I’d better go after all.’
‘You curb your bloodthirsty instincts and stay quietly at home,’ said Bundle. ‘I’m going to talk to Mrs Howell.’
Mrs Howell was the housekeeper, that dignified, creaking lady who struck terror to the heart of Lady Coote. She had no terror for Bundle, whom, indeed, she always called Miss Bundle, a relic of the days when Bundle had stayed at Chimneys, a long-legged, impish child, before her father had succeeded to the title.
‘Now, Howelly,’ said Bundle, ‘let’s have a cup of rich cocoa together, and let me hear all the household news.’
She gleaned what she wanted without much difficulty, making mental notes as follows:
‘Two new scullery maids–village girls–doesn’t seem much there. New third housemaid–head housemaid’s niece. That sounds all right. Howelly seems to have bullied poor Lady Coote a good deal. She would.’
‘I never thought the day would come when I should see Chimneys inhabited by strangers, Miss Bundle.’
‘Oh! one must go with the times,’ said Bundle. ‘You’ll be lucky, Howelly, if you never see it converted into desirable