“You will find Mr. Oberon and will tell him that Miss Taylor has returned and asks to be allowed her private meditation alone in her room until the ceremony. That is very important.”

“Ah, Monsieur, if he were not so troubling to my soul!”

“If you value my esteem, Teresa—” Raoul began.

“Yes, yes, Monsieur,” said Teresa in a hurry, “I am resolved! I will face it.”

“Good. Having given this message, come and report to me. After that your tasks for the night are finished. You will catch the late bus for your home in the Paysdoux. Heaven will reward you and I shall not forget you. Is all that clear, Teresa?”

Teresa repeated it all.

“Good. Now, Raoul, we may not have a chance to speak to each other again. Do as I have said. You are enacting the role of a frightened yet fascinated girl who is under the rule of silence. What will happen during the ceremony I cannot tell you. Mr. Herrington could not be persuaded to confide more than you already know. You can only try to behave as the others do. If there is a crisis I shall deal with it. You will probably see and hear much that will shock and anger you. However beastly the behaviour of these people, you must control yourself. Have you ever heard of the Augean Stables?”

“No, Monsieur.”

“They were filthy and were cleansed. It was a heroic task. Now, when you get to Miss Taylor’s room you will find a robe, like the one you are wearing, laid out for her. If there is no difference you need not change. I don’t think you need try to wear her shoes but if there is anything else set out for her — gloves perhaps — you must wear whatever it may be. One thing more. There may be cigarettes in Miss Taylor’s room. Don’t smoke them. If cigarettes are given to us during the ceremony we must pretend to smoke. Like this.”

Alleyn pouted his lips as if to whistle, held a cigarette in the gap between them and drew in audibly. “They will be drugged cigarettes. Air and smoke will be inhaled together. Keep your thumb over the end like this and you will be safe. That’s all. A great deal depends upon us, Raoul. There have been many girls before Miss Taylor who have become the guests of Mr. Oberon. I think perhaps of all evil-doers, his kind are the worst. Monsieur le Commissaire and I are asking much of you.”

Raoul, perched on his high heels and peering out of the black hood, said: “Monsieur l’Inspecteur-en-Chef, in the army one learns to recognize authority. I recognize it in you, Monsieur, and I shall serve it to the best of my ability.”

Alleyn was acutely embarrassed and more than a little touched by this speech. He said: “Thank you. Then we must all do our best. Shall we set about it? Now, Teresa, as quietly as you can unless you meet anybody, and then — boldly. Off you go.”

“Courage, my beloved. Courage and good sense.”

Teresa bestowed a melting glance upon Raoul, opened the door and, after a preliminary look down the passage, took up her candle and went out. Alleyn followed with his walking-stick in his hand and Raoul, clicking his high heels and taking small steps, brought up the rear.

Down in Roqueville Troy absent-mindedly arranged little figures round a crib and pondered on the failure of her session with Ginny and Robin. She heard again Ginny’s desperate protest: “I don’t want to, I don’t want to but I must. I’ve taken the oath. Dreadful things will happen if I don’t go back.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Robin had said and she had cried out: “You’ve sworn and you won’t tell. If we don’t believe, why don’t we tell?”

Suddenly, with something of Ricky’s abandon, she had flung her arms round Troy. “If you could help,” she had stammered, “but you can’t; you can’t!”And she had run out of the room like a frightened animal. Robin, limping after her, had turned at the door.

“It’s all right,” he had said. “Mrs. Allen, it’s all right. She won’t go back.”

There was a tidily arranged pile of illustrated papers in the private sitting-room where they had had their drinks. Troy found herself idly turning the pages of the top one. Photographs of sunbathers and race-goers flipped over under her abstracted gaze. Dresses by Dior and dresses by Fath, Prince Aly Khan leading in his father’s horse, the new ballet at the Marigny—“Les invités réunis pour quelques jours au Château de la Chèvre d’Argent. De gauche à droite: l’Hôte, M. Oberon; Mlle. Imogen Taylor, M. Carbury Glande, Dr. Baradi, M. Robin Herrington et la Hon. Grizel Locke—” Troy’s attention was arrested and then transfixed. It was a clear photograph taken on the roof-garden. There they were, perfectly recognizable, all except Grizel Locke.

The photograph of Grizel Locke was that of a short, lean woman with the face of a complete stranger.

iv

Robin was driving up a rough lane into the hills with Ginny beside him saying feverishly: “You’re sure this is a shorter way? It’s a quarter to eight, Robin! Robin, you’re sure?”

He thought: “The tank was half-full. How long will it take for half a tank of air to be exhausted?”

“There’s tons of time,” he said, “and I’m quite sure.” As he turned the next corner the engine missed and then stopped. Robin crammed on his brakes.

Looking at Ginny’s blank face he thought: “Now, we’re for it. It’s tonight or nevermore for Ginny and me.”

Dupont, waiting under the stars on the platform outside the Chèvre d’Argent, looked at his watch. It was a quarter to eight. He sighed and settled himself inside his coat. He expected a long vigil.

v

Teresa’s candle bobbed ahead. Sometimes it vanished round corners, sometimes dipped or ascended as she arrived at steps and sometimes it was stationary for a moment as she stopped and listened. Presently they were on familiar ground. Forward, on their left, was the operating room: opposite this, the room where Miss Truebody had waited. Nearer, on their right, a thin blade of light across the carpet indicated the door into Baradi’s room. Teresa’s hand, dramatized by candlelight, shielded the flame. Beyond her, the curtain at the end of the passage was faintly defined against some further diffusion of light.

She passed Baradi’s room. Alleyn and Raoul approached it. Alleyn held up a warning hand. He halted and then crept forward. His ear was at the door. Beyond it, like erring souls, Baradi and his servant were talking together in their own language.

Alleyn and Raoul moved on. Teresa had come to the curtain. They saw her lift it and a triangle of warmth appeared. Her candle sank to the floor. The foot of the curtain was raised and the candle, followed by the doubled-up shape of Teresa, disappeared beneath it.

“Good girl,” Alleyn thought, “she’s remembered the rings.”

He followed quickly. He was tall enough to reach the rings and hold the top of the curtain to the rail while he raised the skirt for Raoul to pass through.

Now Raoul was in the great hall where the candellabrum still burned on the central table. Teresa had already passed into the entrance lobby. Alleyn still held the curtain in his hand when Teresa blew her nose.

He slipped back behind the curtain, leaving a peephole for himself. He saw Raoul hesitate and then move forward until his back was to the light and he saw a white-robed figure that might have been himself come in from the lobby. Looking beyond the six burning candles he watched the two figures confront each other. The white hood was thrust back and Carbury Glande’s red beard jutted out. Alleyn heard him mutter:

“Well, thank God for you, anyway. You have put him in a tizzy! What happened?’

The black cowl moved slightly from side to side. The head was bent.

“Oh, all right!”Glande said pettishly. “What a stickler you are, to be sure!”

The white figure crossed the end of the hall and disappeared up the stairway.