The Seven Dials Mystery - Agatha Christie [86]
She was seeing for the second time what she had only had a glimpse of the first time through her peep-hole. The masked figures were sitting round the table. As she stood there, taken aback by the suddenness of it, Mosgorovsky slipped into his place, adjusting his clock mask as he did so.
But this time the chair at the head of the table was occupied. No 7 was in his place.
Bundle’s heart beat violently. She was standing at the foot of the table directly facing him and she stared and stared at the mocking piece of hanging stuff, with the clock dial on it, that hid his features.
He sat quite immovable and Bundle got an odd sensation of power radiating from him. His inactivity was not the inactivity of weakness–and she wished violently, almost hysterically, that he would speak–that he would make some sign, some gesture–not just sit there like a gigantic spider in the middle of its web waiting remorselessly for its prey.
She shivered and as she did so Mosgorovsky rose. His voice, smooth, silky, persuasive, seemed curiously far away.
‘Lady Eileen, you have been present unasked at the secret councils of this society. It is therefore necessary that you should identify yourself with our aims and ambitions. The place 2 o’clock, you may notice, is vacant. It is that place that is offered to you.’
Bundle gasped. The thing was like a fantastic nightmare. Was it possible that she, Bundle Brent, was being asked to join a murderous secret society? Had the same proposition been made to Bill, and had he refused indignantly?
‘I can’t do that,’ she said bluntly.
‘Do not answer precipitately.’
She fancied that Mosgorovsky, beneath his clock mask, was smiling significantly into his beard.
‘You do not as yet know, Lady Eileen, what it is you are refusing.’
‘I can make a pretty good guess,’ said Bundle.
‘Can you?’
It was the voice of 7 o’clock. It awoke some vague chord of memory in Bundle’s brain. Surely she knew that voice?
Very slowly No 7 raised a hand to his head and fumbled with the fastening of the mask.
Bundle held her breath. At last–she was going to know.
The mask fell.
Bundle found herself looking into the expressionless, wooden face of Superintendent Battle.
Chapter 32
Bundle is Dumbfounded
‘That’s right,’ said Battle, as Mosgorovsky leapt up and came round to Bundle. ‘Get a chair for her. It’s been a bit of a shock, I can see.’
Bundle sank down on the chair. She felt limp and faint with surprise. Battle went on talking in a quiet, comfortable way wholly characteristic of him.
‘You didn’t expect to see me, Lady Eileen. No, and no more did some of the others sitting round the table. Mr Mosgorovsky’s been my lieutenant in a manner of speaking. He’s been in the know all along. But most of the others have taken their orders blindly from him.’
Still Bundle said no word. She was–a most unusual state of affairs for her–simply incapable of speech.
Battle nodded at her comprehendingly, seeming to understand the state of her feelings.
‘You’ll have to get rid of one or two preconceived ideas of yours, I’m afraid, Lady Eileen. About this society, for instance–I know it’s common enough in books–a secret organization of criminals with a mysterious super-criminal at the head of it whom no one ever sees. That sort of thing may exist in real life, but I can only say that I’ve never come across anything of the sort, and I’ve had a good deal of experience one way or another.
‘But there’s a lot of romance in the world, Lady Eileen. People, especially young people, like reading about such things, and they like still better really doing them. I’m going to introduce you now to a very creditable band of amateurs that has done remarkably fine work for my Department, work that nobody else could have done. If they’ve chosen rather melodramatic trappings, well, why shouldn’t they? They’ve been willing to face real danger–danger of the very worst kind–and they’ve done it for these reasons: love of danger for its own sake–which to my mind is a very healthy