*To highlight that they were going to launch an attack on the staff tonight?'

*No, of course not.'

*So you'd have the Staplefords or others deciding to hire someone to attack Mrs Wilson in the two hours after dinner and arranging to get the man here? It's not possible.'

*So you agree that it was her reaction to that message that led to her attack?'

*Och, Euphemia, I don't know. I need rest and so do you.'

*Dr Simpson said she had a child a Mrs Wilson.'

*He'd never have told you such a thing,' said Rory shocked.

*Well, no,' I admitted, *but he implied it.'

*That's you and your bad arithmetic again.'

*You weren't there. He a he a tried to warn me before. Said he didn't want me to suffer the same fate.'

*Euphemia, you have a right bad tendency to go borrowing trouble. When will you learn that the only way to be a good servant is to leave them upstairs to their own lives? Don't get so involved.'

*We're all G.o.d's creatures,' I said quoting my father. I could feel my eyes closing.

*I sometimes doubt that,' said Rory and closed the library door softly behind him.

I awoke to find Merry re-doing the fire. Sunlight streamed in through the window. I winced and turned my face away. *What would Mo-dame like for breakfast?' enquired Merry. *A chicken wing and a gla.s.s of bobbly?'

*Bubbly,' I corrected. *And what mademoiselle would like is a cup of weak tea and a slice of toast.'

Merry sat back on her heels and looked at me. *I can try,' she said, *but Mrs Deighton is all for cooking you a full cooked. At the very least she'll want you to have beef-tea. Reckons you'll need your strength to talk to the police.'

*Oh, are they here?'

*A local copper took statements last night, but Dr Simpson wouldn't let anyone see you, so they've sent someone over special this morning.'

*I'm honoured,' I said sourly.

*I was wondering if you'd like me to help you dress after breakfast?'

*Don't take the joke too far, Merry,' I said sitting up. Immediately the room rocked around me. I pressed my hands against my head.

*Here, steady,' said Merry, jumping up to help me lay back down. *I'll tell them you're not up to it. You're right white. Pally-wally, Rory said, or something like it.'

*No, I'd like to get it over with. If they stand any chance of getting the intruder then the earlier I tell them the little I know the better.'

*Be it on your head,' said Merry, frowning.

And so, after I'd managed to force a little breakfast between my lips and Merry had helped me into proper attire, there was a knock on the library door and in walked the police.

*Why, Sergeant Davies!' I said in astonishment. *How nice to see you.' I blushed. *I don't mean the circ.u.mstances are nice, but ...'

*Miss St John.' The sergeant pulled up a chair and took out his notebook. He licked his pencil in preparation and took a deep breath. *So, what's this I hear about you tangling with Bolsheviks again?'

*Bolsheviks? Good G.o.d,' I exclaimed with anger. *Surely no one is trying to pa.s.s off that old line again!'

*Just my little joke, miss. Though it's interesting to see how you never believed the official line about the late Lord Stapleford's death. Endorsed by my inspector it was. But there you obviously know better, being an exceptionally bright young lady.'

I sank back into my pillow and tried to compose my thoughts. On our last encounter I had suspected Sergeant Davies of being perceptive, intelligent, cunning, but straight as a die. I saw no reason to change my opinion. *I would hardly claim to know better than the police, sergeant,' I said politely. *I'm very sorry if I gave you that impression.'

*Just tell me you 'aven't been hauling any dead bodies around by the leg this time?'

*I wasn't aware we had any dead bodies,' I said shortly. *Oh no, is Mrs Wilson ...?' I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence.

*Not as far as I know, miss. Dr Simpson tells me it's touch and go. In the hands of the Lord, as they say.'

*Poor woman. I never liked her,' I said bluntly, *but I'd not wish this on my worst enemy.' Something struck a chord in my mind, but it was fleeting and gone in a second. The sergeant was speaking.

*If the toffs a I mean, the ladies and gents a are to be believed nothing occurred during the seance except a little high spirits.' He laughed at his own joke and then suddenly stopped. *But I was thinking 'ow it might all be connected. What do you think, Miss St John?'

*Mrs Wilson was certainly very upset at being included. She reacted badly to the messages.' I hesitated unsure of how much to say.

*Anything in particular?'

*One about a child not being wanted by its mother.'

Sergeant Davies blew out his moustache. His pencil hovered over the page. *Now that sounds like a keg of powder if ever there was one.'

*Indeed,' I said.

*I want you to think carefully, Miss St John, do you know anything about this delicate matter?'

*No,' I said slowly. *I don't know anything.'

*But you've heard rumours and you have ideas?'

I decided it was time to change the subject. *You're not a local man, are you, sergeant?'

*No, miss. I'm a Londoner. I married a young woman in service, much like yourself, and she came from this part of the world and had fancy to be near her family, so I transferred down.'

*I bet you regret that now.'

*Since I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance I've been more and more inclined to that way of thinking.'

*So you never knew Mrs Wilson when she was young a and if there was ever a Mr Wilson?'

*I believe housekeepers are generally called Mrs unless they are ridiculously young, Miss St John.'

I grinned at the blow. *Dr Simpson, the family doctor, told me once he'd known her from a young girl.'

*Did he, miss? That might be useful or this might turn out to be another of them Bolshevik cases again. Unless you can tell me anything about the attacker?' he asked hopefully.

*I can only tell you he was a little below average height, not heavily built, but still powerful. Wiry, I suppose. And that he had blue eyes.'

Sergeant Davies gave me a level look. *Are you aware of how accurate a description that could be?' he asked.

*I don't follow you, sergeant.'

*Can I ask you to keep that description between ourselves for now?'

*Of course,' I said. *Anything to help the police.'

*And might I have your word, miss, that you won't go blundering around in this case stirring things up.'

*I have no intention of blundering.'

*Good,' said the sergeant. *Only this will be the third time you've been involved with murders around this family and that doesn't look good for anyone. People, and I'm not saying who, might start thinking you know more than you're saying. That you, in common parlance, know too much for your own good.'

4 The terrible truths of what happened when I first joined service are only known to the Stapleford children and myself. See my journal A Death in the Family for full, but very secret, details

Chapter Four:.

Mr Bertram Has an Idea

Despite Merry's roaring fire I found myself shivering. Sergeant Davies had shut up his notebook and departed leaving me with conflicting feelings. However, I was not destined to have the rest Dr Simpson had prescribed. The door had barely closed when it opened again to admit Mr Bertram. He had an expression on his face I couldn't read and moved into the room almost on tip-toe.

*I'm fine,' I said, half-lifting my head off my pillow and immediately regretting it. *Or I will be.'

*Good. Good. I'm glad to hear it, Miss St John. You gave us all quite a shock.'

*Is there something wrong?' I asked. *You're acting ...' I broke off as I saw the reason for Mr Bertram's behaviour had followed him into the room.

*Good heavens, Bertram. This must be the warmest room in the house,' said Beatrice Wilton. *So interesting how people treat their servants.'

Mr Bertram blushed. *I'm sure Miss St John is very grateful to Lord Stapleford for the care he has arranged.'

*Indeed, I am,' I said, gently sliding up my pillows. *How may I help you? I'm afraid the doctor does not think I will be able to return to my full duties for several days.'

*So we heard,' said Miss Wilton, seating herself on the edge of a chair and sniffing slightly.

*Miss Wilton is a journalist,' said Mr Bertram. *She writes the Lady Grey column.'

*Really, Bertram, there's no need to explain. I doubt the girl has ever read a newspaper in her life.' She leant forward, peering short-sightedly at my face. *She is very young.'

I guessed there were very few years between us and I was sure that thanks to my father I was far better read than any gossip columnist, but it was hardly my place to say so. I smiled politely. Mr Bertram, who had cause to know that smile, rushed on.

*Miss Wilton has a journalist's mind. She may have some insights into the current situation.'

*Really, Bertram, you make it sound as if we're going to discuss the matter with the girl. You'll confuse her.' She turned with a smile, even more unfriendly than mine, towards me. Then she edged her chair slightly forward, blocking much of the heat from me. *I want to ask you some questions, Ursula a isn't it?'

*Euphemia.'

She waved her hand dismissively. *Don't worry, I will keep them simple. I only ask that you give me the facts, not your own ideas.'

Mr Bertram coughed. *Actually, Beatrice, Euphemia has been most helpful in the past when there were, er, family difficultiesa'

*Bertram, you asked me to help. Now trust me to do my job.'

*Of course, Beatrice.'

I looked from one to the other. Surely he couldn't have developed a soft spot for this terrible woman.

*Now, Euphemia, if you could tell me what you know about Mrs Wilson's affair?'

*I don't know anything about it.'

*So you do know that she had one?'

*No, I didn't say that,' I said.

*Euphemia worked here for less than a year,' said Mr Bertram.

*Hush, Bertie. You men never realise how much servants gossip. Now, Ursula, you can tell me the truth. I'm not here to judge.'

*But, ma'am,' I said carefully. *You asked me only to tell you if I knew anything for a fact and I don't.'

*Oh, I see I was mistaken,' said Beatrice. *You are much cleverer than I supposed.' To my horror she opened her purse and took out some coins. *How much?'

*I am more than adequately compensated for my services,' I said coldly. *As Mr Bertram said I worked at Stapleford Hall for a very short time.'

Beatrice Wilton leant forward and touched my arm. *Come now, my dear, don't be proud. All servants can do with a little more than their masters give them. No matter how good they might be.' She laughed girlishly. *I'm sure you do know something if you put your mind to it. Why, your Mr Bertram says you display almost to an educated standard.'

I shot Mr Bertram a furious look. To be fair, he did look embarra.s.sed, but then to my astonishment he opened his mouth and said, *If there is anything, Euphemia, you should tell Miss Wilton. She's a professional.'

*I'm tired,' I said, *and I feel dizzy. I need to rest. I don't want your money, Miss Wilton. I don't know anything that can be of any help.'

Beatrice didn't budge an inch and her face took on an unbecoming mulish look. Sadly, she had her back to Bertram. I decided to up the stakes. *In fact,' I said, *I think I may vomit at any moment.'