“But Monsieur—”
“There is a wound, covered by a surgical dressing, under the left breast.”
“Teresa has told me that the English lady died.”
“Here is Teresa,” Alleyn said and held up his hand.
While he washed he questioned Teresa about Miss Truebody.
“Teresa, in what room of the house did the English lady die? Was it where we put her after the operation?”
“No, Monsieur. She was moved at once from there. The Egyptian and the porter carried her to a room upstairs in the Saracen’s watch-tower. It is not often used. She was taken there because it would be quieter, Monsieur.”
“I’ll be bound she was,” Alleyn muttered. He dried his hands and began to outline a further plan of action. “Last night,” he said, “I learned from Mr. Herrington a little more than Teresa perhaps may know, of the normal procedure on Thursday nights. At eleven o’clock a bell is rung. The guests then emerge from their rooms wearing their robes which have been laid out for them. They go in silence to the ceremony known as the Rites of the Children of the Sun. First they enter the small ante-room where each takes up a lighted candle. They then go into the main room and stay there until after midnight. Supper is served in Mr. Oberon’s salon. The whole affair may go on, after a fashion, until five o’clock in the morning.”
Teresa drew in her breath with an excited hiss.
“Now it is my intention to witness this affair. To that end I propose that you, Raoul, and I replace Miss Taylor and Mr. Herrington, who will not be there. Electricity will not be restored in the Château tonight and by candlelight we have at least a chance of remaining unrecognized.”
Teresa made a little gesture. “If Monsieur pleases,” she said.
“Well, Teresa?”
“The Egyptian has brought in iron boxes from Mr. Oberon’s auto and a great deal of electrical cord and a soldering iron; he has arranged that the sun lamp in the room of ceremonies shall be lighted.”
“Indeed? How very ingenious of him.”
“Monsieur,” Raoul said, eyeing the gowns on the bed, “is it your intention that I make myself to pass for a lady?”
Teresa cackled and clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Exactly so,” said Alleyn. “You are about the same height as Miss Taylor. In the black gown with the hood drawn over your face and hands — by the way, you too must wash your hands — hidden in the sleeves, you should, with luck, pass muster. You have small feet. Perhaps you may be able to wear Miss Taylor’s slippers.”
“Ah, mon Dieu, quelle blague!”
“Comport yourself with propriety, Teresa, Monsieur is speaking.”
“If you cannot manage this I have bought a pair of black slippers which will have to do instead.”
“And my costume, Monsieur?” Raoul asked, indicating with an expressive gesture his stained singlet, his greenish black trousers and his mackintosh hitched over his shoulders.
“I understand that, apart from the gown and slippers there is no costume at all.”
“Ah, mon Dieu, en voilà une affaire!”
“Teresa! Attention!”
“However, the gown is voluminous. For propriety’s sake, Raoul, you may retain your vest and underpants. In any case you must be careful to conceal your legs which, no doubt, are unmistakably masculine.”
“They are superb,” said Teresa. “But undoubtedly masculine.”
“It seems to me,” continued Alleyn, who had become quite used to the peculiarities of conversation with Raoul and Teresa, “that our first difficulty is the problem of getting from here to the respective rooms of Mr. Herrington and Miss Taylor. Teresa, I see, has brought two white gowns. Mr. Herrington has provided us with a white and a black one. Miss Taylor would have appeared in black tonight. Therefore, you must put on the black, Raoul, and I shall wear the longest of the white. Teresa must tell us where these rooms are. If the Egyptian or any of the guests should see us on our way to them we must hope they will observe the rule of silence which is enforced before the ceremony and pay no attention. It will be best if we can find our way without candles. Once inside our rooms we remain there until we hear the bell. How close, Teresa, are these rooms to the room where the ceremony is held? The room you described to me yesterday.”
“The young lady’s is nearby, Monsieur. It is therefore close also to the apartment of Mr. Oberon.”
“In that case, Raoul, when you hear the bell, go at once to the ante-room. Take a candle and, by the communicating door, go into the ceremonial room. There will be five or six black cushions on the floor and a large black divan. If there are six cushions, yours will be apart from the others. If there are five, your position will be on the divan. I am only guessing at this. One thing I do know — the rule of silence will be observed until the actual ceremony begins. If you are in the wrong position it will be attributed, with luck, to stage-fright and somebody will put you right. Where is Mr. Herrington’s room, Teresa?”
“It is off the landing, Monsieur, going down to the lower storey where the ceremonies are held.”
“And the other guests?”
“They are in the higher parts of the Château, Monsieur. Across the outside passage and beyond it.”
“Do you know the room of Miss Grizel Locke?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Have you seen her today?”
“Not since two days ago, Monsieur, but that is not unusual. As I have informed Monsieur, it is the lady’s habit to keep to her room and leave a notice that she must not be disturbed.”
“I see. Now, if I leave Mr. Herrington’s room on the first stroke of the bell, I should arrive hard on your heels, Raoul, and in advance of the others. I may even go in a little earlier.” He looked at his watch. “It is half-past-seven. Let us put on our gowns. Then, Teresa, you must go out and, if possible, discover the whereabouts of the Egyptian.”
“Monsieur, he was summoned by M. Baradi before you came in. I heard him speaking on the house telephone.”
“Let us hope the doctor keeps his man with him for some time. Now then, Raoul. On with the motley!”
The gowns proved to be amply made, wrapping across under their girdles. The hoods would come well forward and, when the head was bent, completely exclude any normal lighting from the face. “But it will be a different story if one holds a lighted candle,” Alleyn said. “We must not be seen with our candles in our hands.”
He had bought for Raoul a pair of feminine sandals, black and elegant with highish heels. Raoul said he thought they would fit admirably. With a grimace of humorous resignation he washed his small, beautiful and very dirty feet and then fitted them into the sandals. “Oh, là, là!” he said, “one must be an acrobat, it appears.” And for the diversion of Teresa he minced to and fro, wagging his hips and making unseemly gestures. Teresa crammed her fists in her mouth and was consumed with merriment. “Ah, mon Dieu,”she gasped punctually, “quel drôle de type!”
Alleyn wondered rather desperately if he was dealing with children or merely with the celebrated latin joie de vivre. He called them to order and they were at once as solemn as owls.
“Teresa,” he said, “you will go a little ahead of us with your candle. Go straight through the house and down the stairs to the landing beneath the library. If you see anybody, blow your nose loudly.”
“Have you a handkerchief, my jewel?”
“No.”
“Accept mine,” said Raoul, offering her a dubious rag.
“If anybody speaks to you and, perhaps, asks you why you are still on the premises, say that you missed your bus because of the message about Miss Taylor. If it is necessary, you must say you are going to her room to do some little act of service that you had forgotten and that you will leave to catch the later bus. If it is possible, in this event, Raoul and I will conceal ourselves until the coast is clear. If this is not possible, we will behave as Mr. Herrington and Miss Taylor would behave under the rule of silence. You will continue to Miss Taylor’s room, open the door for Raoul and go in for a moment, but only for a moment. Then, Teresa, I have another task for you,” continued Alleyn, feeling for the second time in two days that he had become as big a bore as Prospero. Teresa, however, was a complacent Ariel and merely gazed submissively upon him.