The House Of The Bears Read Free Page B

went closer to the gap and there saw that the wood had powdered away, as if worm-eaten. He wished the light were better, and switched on his torch. He studied the wood closely. It was not worm-eaten, it had just rotted. He prodded, and found that it had gone soft. He walked the whole width of the gallery, running his fingers along the balustrade, but at no other point was it soft, only at the one vital spot where Loretta Morne had always leaned and laughed down at Gerry.
    Drusilla turned and beckoned him.
    He hurried to the staircase and down the stairs, and Palfrey pushed aside the curtain in time to see Markham striding into the room. The man stood quite still, his lips set tightly, and Palfrey did not move.
    Markham said: ‘Have you been upstairs?’
    ‘Yes,’ murmured Palfrey. He looked abashed, but met Markham’s gaze steadily. ‘Left alone, one gets restless.’ He smiled. ‘It’s remarkably odd, isn’t it?’
    ‘Dr. Palfrey-’ Markham began, and then stopped himself and turned away abruptly. ‘I am sorry. We are all on edge tonight, Dr. Palfrey. Please come and sit down.’
    The smaller room was warm; soon they were sitting down and smoking, and Markham was exerting himself to be friendly. He told them that Loretta, as Lady Markham had said, had made a habit of going up to the minstrel gallery whenever the piano was played. He emphasized the fact that there was nothing unusual about it.
    Palfrey murmured something unintelligible.
    ‘I just cannot understand why Halsted failed to tell you that his patient had gone away,’ said Markham, abruptly. ‘He’s usually a most reliable fellow.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘I’ve known him all my life.’
    Markham looked at him intently. ‘Have you?’
    ‘School, Balliol, Guys,’ said Palfrey, nursing his knee. ‘For no one else would I have come out here. After getting his letter, my wife and I decided to take a week’s holiday and fit the visit in. Corshire isn’t our favourite holiday haunt.’
    ‘It’s all right on the other side of Wenlock,’ said Markham, ‘where there’s an entirely different climate. The temperature is often ten degrees higher. Remarkable, isn’t it?’ He talked freely, almost volubly, drawing a picture of the bleak, fog-ridden moor and the bogs which lay about further to the north, contrasting the scene with the sunny valleys on the south side of Wenlock Hills, which ran down to the sea and faced the broad Atlantic.
    A clock struck eleven.
    ‘It’s getting late,’ said Drusilla.
    ‘I’ll show you to your room,’ said Markham. ‘Mrs. Bardie will have prepared it by now. You’re in no great hurry in the morning, I understand.’
    ‘None,’ said Palfrey.
    ‘Then take it easy,’ said Markham.
    The main staircase lay to the right of the front hall. It swept round, giving an impression of the vastness of the place. The floor here was of wood, with bearskin rugs; the heads of bears appeared on the walls and on the furniture, even in the lofty room with a four-poster bed into which Markham led them. A fire was burning; comfortable easy-chairs were drawn up to it, whisky and brandy were on a fireside table, and books lay ready to hand.
    Markham said good night and left them.
    ‘It’s a cheerful room,’ Palfrey said.
    ‘It’s all right now that we can shut off the rest of the house,’ said Drusilla. ‘Did you see how Markham looked at you when you came down from the gallery?’
    ‘He was very angry indeed.’
    ‘What did you see up there?’
    ‘Enough to make me curious,’ said Palfrey. ‘I wish I were an expert on wood. How could one tiny patch be soft enough to break while the rest was hard and firm?’
    ‘It could have been worm-eaten,’ said Drusilla.
    ‘No worm-holes.’
    She sat on the side of the bed, staring at him.
    She said: ‘Are you seriously suggesting that – that the balustrade was tampered with?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You must be wrong! ‘
    Palfrey said savagely: ‘I believe it was an attempt