Hide the Baron Read Free Page A

Gedde.”
    The great hall was skilfully lighted; only the one big chandelier was visible, the other lighting was concealed, and yet shone upon the great paintings, the tapestries, the sheen of the polished armour and the panelled walls so that everything looked as well as it could. When she had first stepped inside here she had thought ‘baronial’, and nothing had made her change her opinion. She didn’t yet know the history of Brook House, but it was a long one; there were seven-foot walls in one part, and two rooms which had been untouched for nearly four hundred years.
    The library was on the ground floor, next to the dining room. On the other side of it was Garfield’s bedroom and bathroom; next to that, Gedde’s room. Garfield and Gedde, G. & G. The floor of the hall was stone-flagged and covered with beautiful skin rugs; the floor of the passage was bare and looked as if it ought to be covered with rushes, or with bales of straw, and as if oil flares or flares of pig’s grease should be stuck in the iron torch-holders bolted to the stone walls.
    She wondered why Garfield had bought this house; he had been over sixty, she knew, when he had.
    Well, a millionaire had every right to do what he liked with his money.
    Now that George Merrow was no longer in pain, and in the right hands, Joanna felt an almost guilty feeling of relief. She would not be forced to take any hasty decision, and it was possible that when Merrow came back his mood would be different. At least, there would be no issue to face for four or five weeks.
    She reached the library door, and knocked.
    The knocker was of iron, the shape of a gargoyle, and it rapped against an iron plate. Jimmy Garfield insisted that everyone should knock before coming in, and she wasn’t quite sure why; unless he was afraid of being indecorous. The rule applied to everyone except Gedde, and in the month that Joanna had been here she had learned to take it for granted.
    There was no answering call.
    She knocked again.
    At last she heard him say: “Come in.” His voice sounded weak, but occasionally it was, especially if he was very tired, and he would probably be tired after the shock of what had happened. She hadn’t seen him yet; all the messages had been relayed by Gedde.
    She went in.
    She didn’t go far, but stood for a moment with a hand at the door handle.
    Garfield sat in his wheelchair, one so beautifully made that it could turn on a sixpence and be moved at a fingertip touch of the wheels. He was looking at her. White hair crowned him; here was an Old Testament prophet come back to life. Usually he had beautifully clear skin and a ruddy complexion, as if a second childhood were coming in real earnest. His eyes were so bright a blue, too.
    Usually, but not now. They were lack-lustre. He looked as if he had received a nasty shock. She knew little about the condition of his heart, except that it was not strong, and he had never discussed his health with her; but now she realised she was looking at a sick man, as distinct from an old man with a spinal condition which made it impossible for him to stand up unaided.
    She closed the door and went right into the high room, with its bookcases and desk, its maps, its huge globe, its priceless treasures. Here were a few of the beautiful things he had collected, and which he loved. His collection of bizarre objets d’art was world famous, and twice while she had been here he had sent for some of the pieces from his strong-room, and returned others. Now there was a sedate group of African bronzes in a glass case, and in a corner cupboard some beautiful beaten-gold models of pagodas from Siam.
    â€œHallo, Joanna,” he said. “Bring up a chair, and sit down.” He blinked, and it was easy to believe that he was trying to throw off the sickness. He actually squared his shoulders. “That’s right. Comfortable? Like a drink?”
    â€œNo,