The Seven Dials Mystery - Agatha Christie [46]
Altogether, Bundle went up to dress in a pleasant mood of expectation, with a slight nervous dread hovering in the background whenever she thought of the imminent arrival of Mrs Macatta. Bundle felt that dalliance with Mrs Macatta was going to prove no primrose path.
Her first shock was when she came down, demurely attired in a black lace frock, and passed along the hall. A footman was standing there–at least a man dressed as a footman. But that square, burly figure lent itself badly to the deception. Bundle stopped and stared.
‘Superintendent Battle,’ she breathed.
‘That’s right, Lady Eileen.’
‘Oh!’ said Bundle uncertainly. ‘Are you here to–to–?’
‘Keep an eye on things.’
‘I see.’
‘That warning letter, you know,’ said the Superintendent, ‘fairly put the wind up Mr Lomax. Nothing would do for him but that I should come down myself.’
‘But don’t you think–’ began Bundle, and stopped. She hardly liked to suggest to the Superintendent that his disguise was not a particularly efficient one. He seemed to have ‘police officer’ written all over him, and Bundle could hardly imagine the most unsuspecting criminal failing to be put on his guard.
‘You think,’ said the Superintendent stolidly, ‘that I might be recognized?’
He gave the final word a distinct capital letter.
‘I did think so–yes–’ admitted Bundle.
Something that might conceivably have been intended for a smile crossed the woodenness of Superintendent Battle’s features.
‘Put them on their guard, eh? Well, Lady Eileen, why not?’
‘Why not?’ echoed Bundle–rather stupidly, she felt.
Superintendent Battle was nodding his head slowly.
‘We don’t want any unpleasantness, do we?’ he said. ‘Don’t want to be too clever–just show any light-fingered gentry that may be about–well, just show them that there’s somebody on the spot, so to speak.’
Bundle gazed at him in some admiration. She could imagine that the sudden appearance of so renowned a personage as Superintendent Battle might have a depressing effect on any scheme and the hatchers of it.
‘It’s a great mistake to be too clever,’ Superintendent Battle was repeating. ‘The great thing is not to have any unpleasantness this week-end.’
Bundle passed on, wondering how many of her fellow guests had recognized or would recognize the Scotland Yard detective. In the drawing-room George was standing with a puckered brow and an orange envelope in his hand.
‘Most vexatious,’ he said. ‘A telegram from Mrs Macatta to say she will be unable to be with us. Her children are suffering from mumps.’
Bundle’s heart gave a throb of relief.
‘I especially feel this on your account, Eileen,’ said George kindly. ‘I know how anxious you were to meet her. The Countess too will be sadly disappointed.’
‘Oh, never mind,’ said Bundle. ‘I should hate it if she’d come and given me mumps.’
‘A very distressing complaint,’ agreed George. ‘But I do not think that infection could be carried that way. Indeed, I am sure that Mrs Macatta would have run no risk of that kind. She is a most highly principled woman, with a very real sense of her responsibilities to the community. In these days of national stress, we must all take into account–’
On the brink of embarking on a speech, George pulled himself up short.
‘But it must be for another time,’ he said. ‘Fortunately there is no hurry in your case. But the Countess, alas, is only a visitor to our shores.’
‘She’s a Hungarian, isn’t she?’ said Bundle, who was curious about the Countess.
‘Yes. You have heard, no doubt, of the Young Hungarian party. The Countess is a leader of that party. A woman of great wealth, left a widow at an early age, she has devoted her money and her talents to the public service. She has especially devoted herself to the problem of infant mortality–a terrible one under present conditions in Hungary. I–Ah! here is Herr Eberhard.’
The German inventor was younger than Bundle had imagined him. He was probably not more than thirty-three or four. He was boorish and ill at ease. And yet his personality was not an unpleasing one. His blue eyes were more shy