The Seven Dials Mystery - Agatha Christie [52]
Her own meek acquiescence in the tame rôle assigned to her gave her an infinity of pleasure, though she wondered scornfully how either of the two men could be so easily deceived. Bill, of course, had never been famous for scintillating brain power. On the other hand, he knew, or should know, his Bundle. And she considered that Jimmy Thesiger, though only slightly acquainted with her, ought to have known better than to imagine that she could be so easily and summarily disposed of.
Once in the privacy of her own room, Bundle set rapidly to work. First she discarded her evening dress and the negligible trifle which she wore beneath it, and started again, so to speak, from the foundations. Bundle had not brought her maid with her, and she had packed herself. Otherwise, the puzzled Frenchwoman might have wondered why her lady took a pair of riding breeches and no further equine equipment.
Arrayed in riding breeches, rubber-soled shoes, and a dark-coloured pullover, Bundle was ready for the fray. She glanced at the time. As yet, it was only half past twelve. Too early by far. Whatever was going to happen would not happen for some time yet. The occupants of the house must all be given time to get off to sleep. Half past one was the time fixed by Bundle for the start of operations.
She switched off her light and sat down by the window to wait. Punctually at the appointed moment, she rose, pushed up the sash and swung her leg over the sill. The night was a fine one, cold and still. There was starlight but no moon.
She found the descent very easy. Bundle and her two sisters had run wild in the park at Chimneys as small children, and they could all climb like cats. Bundle arrived on a flower-bed, rather breathless, but quite unscathed.
She paused a minute to take stock of her plans. She knew that the rooms occupied by the Air Minister and his secretary were in the west wing; that was the opposite side of the house from where Bundle was now standing. A terrace ran along the south and west side of the house, ending abruptly against a walled fruit garden.
Bundle stepped out of her flower-bed and turned the corner of the house to where the terrace began on the south side. She crept very quietly along it, keeping close to the shadow of the house. But, as she reached the second corner, she got a shock, for a man was standing there, with the clear intention of barring her way.
The next instant she had recognized him.
‘Superintendent Battle! You did give me a fright!’
‘That’s what I’m here for,’ said the Superintendent pleasantly.
Bundle looked at him. It struck her now, as so often before, how remarkably little camouflage there was about him. He was large and solid and noticeable. He was, somehow, very English. But of one thing Bundle was quite sure. Superintendent Battle was no fool.
‘What are you really doing here?’ she asked, still in a whisper.
‘Just seeing,’ said Battle, ‘that nobody’s about who shouldn’t be.’
‘Oh!’ said Bundle, rather taken aback.
‘You, for instance, Lady Eileen. I don’t suppose you usually take a walk at this time of night.’
‘Do you mean,’ said Bundle slowly, ‘that you want me to go back?’
Superintendent Battle nodded approvingly.
‘You’re very quick, Lady Eileen. That’s just what I do mean. Did you–er–come out of a door, or the window?’
‘The window. It’s easy as anything climbing down this ivy.’
Supertintendent Battle looked up at it thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I should say it would be.’
‘And you want me to go back?’ said Bundle. ‘I’m rather sick about that. I wanted to go round on to the west terrace.’
‘Perhaps you won’t be the only one who’ll want to do that,’ said Battle.
‘Nobody could miss seeing you,’ said Bundle rather spitefully.
The Superintendent seemed rather pleased than otherwise.
‘I hope they won’t,’ he said. ‘No unpleasantness. That’s my motto. And if