The Camelot Caper Read Free Page B

clearly in pursuit of the pious young lady, whose expression had displayed her disapproval. The verger gave Jess an austere, ecclesiastical smile, and pounced.
    Jess watched, with relief and sudden amusement, as her follower was intercepted, cut off, and ruthlessly shoved into a distant seat. The verger took up his position in the aisle, next to the pursuer’s chair, and fixed him with a cold stare. Jess had a feeling that if the man had moved he would have been smothered under a wave of outraged black officials, and the bodyquietly removed. The ultimate sin here was creating a disturbance.
    For the first time she felt safe, and she drew a long, quivering breath. The music stopped, the echoes died in the vast arches; the white-gowned celebrant approached the altar, and amid the rustle of the crowd, kneeling, the words rolled out:
    â€œAlmighty God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid; cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit…”
    Jessica wished her pursuer would heed that beautiful thought. She also wished that this particular secret was not hidden from her. What was the man after? The ring? Impossible. Absurd.
    â€œGlory be to God on high, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men…”
    Goodwill? Jess felt very little, at that moment. The ring, the ring, the ring…It ran through her head as an insane counterpoint to the glorious old Litany, and her view of the ritual movements of the celebrant and his assistants was blurred by an inner vision, of the d—no, no, not here—the cursed ring, nestled in a corner of her purse.
    The letter had asked her to bring it, so shehad; she carried it in her purse because that seemed safer than a suitcase, and because the old man had laid such stress on it. But surely he only wanted it for sentimental reasons. Her mother had once taken it to a jeweler, who had reported that it had no intrinsic value. The stone was an agate of some sort, clumsily cut; the setting was gold, but of poor quality. Certainly the ring was not very pretty. It was big—made, obviously, for a man’s hand—and heavy enough to bend a finger. Some old family trinket, perhaps, but not worth stealing.
    â€œLet us pray for the whole Church of God in Christ Jesus, and for all men according to their needs…”
    Jessica woke up, startled to find herself the only one still standing. She dropped down, banging her knees painfully on the floor; the cushion had disappeared, and she had to fumble under the seat for it. By that time, the celebrant was immersed in prayer for the Queen, the Royal Family, and the good estate of the Catholic Church—a statement which startled Jess temporarily out of her grimmer thoughts until she remembered that this was how the Church of England referred to itself.
    The prayer then referred to all those who were in any way afflicted or distressed, in mind,body or estate. Jess heartily endorsed the sentiment. She did not need to look over her shoulder to know that an angry gaze was aimed at her bowed head. What was she going to do? Prayer was good for the soul, but God seldom interferes personally to lift up the fallen sparrow. The verger might help to delay her pursuer while she dashed out, but after that, even in the street…
    Again she was late in following the response, as the rest of the congregation surged to its feet. Half turning, she saw the man with the mustache, and she saw another thing that froze her in position, while the sound of the service faded to a dull drone in her ears.
    The enemy had also turned; his hand moved in what appeared to be a signal. It was not difficult for Jess to pick out the man at whom the signal was directed. People were not allowed to stand at the back of the church during the service, like spectators at a play. But one man was standing, ignoring the verger’s attempts to make him sit down, or leave. She could not make out