clothes.
What’s more, she had pulled the door to Mrs Oakengate’s
room partially shut, as her employer had requested. Now it was wide open.
Creeping into Mrs Oakengate’s room, and trying to see by the light from her
own, she checked Mrs Oakengate’s luggage. That too had been disturbed, she was
sure of it. However, Mrs Oakengate’s luggage had been unpacked and put into the
wardrobes. A few drawers were slightly open, with articles of clothing sticking
out, as if someone had been disturbed.
Everything was becoming
clear to her and she did not know why it had not occurred to her before. The
only thing that she did not know was who or why. After a moment’s more
deliberation, it became obvious to her why Blake had insisted she go with him
to the cellar. It gave his accomplice, whoever that was, time to search their
rooms whilst Caroline was absent and Mrs Oakengate slept soundly. They were
looking for the Cariastan Heart.
She crept back to her own
room and pulled the door to, vowing to sit up all night if she had to and
prevent any further violation of hers and Mrs Oakengate’s property. Taking a
blanket from the bed, she sat in the chair with her book, and tried to read,
whilst her mind played over the events of the evening. She was still not sure
how Blake had persuaded Jack Henderson to let him join the house party, unless
Jack was in on it. That seemed unlikely. Jack was already very rich, and the
Cariastan Heart, though magnificent, would not be worth much more than half a
million pounds. Henderson was reputed to be a millionaire several times
over. No, it would have to be someone to
whom that was a lot of money. Like a newspaper reporter.
She felt tears prick her
eyes and brushed them away impatiently. Why should she care if Blake were a
crook? In her experience, handsome men were. Her father had betrayed his best
friend, his wife and child and his own country. Why should Blake Laurenson be
any different?
“Stephens…” The voice came
out of nowhere. Caroline came to, realising that despite her vow, she had dozed
off. She looked up sleepily to see that the lights had dimmed again.
“Stephens,” the voice said, and Lady Cassandra appeared in the darkness.
“What? What about Stephens?”
A shadow dashed by Caroline,
before disappearing. At the same time the lights came up again. She ran from
her room and down the hallway, towards the kitchen, looking for Stephens. She
had no idea where in the house he slept, so she thought to try his sitting
room. As she passed through into the rear passage, the clock in the kitchen
chimed five o’clock. It was only when Caroline had opened the sitting room door
to look in and then stepped back into the back hallway that she saw the door to
the cellar was open.
It took every bit of courage
she possessed to light and candle and go down there alone, terrified of what
she would find. Hesitated with each step, she descended into the cellar; half
wishing Blake was there with his cheery chatter, before reminding herself that
he was up to something sinister. She found Stephens near to the gas taps. He
was lying on the floor, with blood gushing from his head.
She turned, ready to run and
fetch help and bumped into Blake.
“What’s happened?”
“Stephens has been hurt. I
was just about to go and get an ambulance. Someone knocked him out.”
“What were you doing down
here?” Blake stood with his arms folded, blocking her path.
“You don’t think I’ve hurt
him, do you?” Caroline did not want to have to explain about Lady Cassandra.
She doubted Blake would believe her.
“It’s very early in the
morning and you’re in the cellar alone with a man who’s been knocked on the
head. What should I think?”
“You’re here too! Where did
you spring from? Anyway, we’re wasting time here, suspecting each other. The
man needs a doctor and I’m beginning to wonder why you’re stopping me from
getting one.”
Blake pursed his lips,
What’s more, she had pulled the door to Mrs Oakengate’s
room partially shut, as her employer had requested. Now it was wide open.
Creeping into Mrs Oakengate’s room, and trying to see by the light from her
own, she checked Mrs Oakengate’s luggage. That too had been disturbed, she was
sure of it. However, Mrs Oakengate’s luggage had been unpacked and put into the
wardrobes. A few drawers were slightly open, with articles of clothing sticking
out, as if someone had been disturbed.
Everything was becoming
clear to her and she did not know why it had not occurred to her before. The
only thing that she did not know was who or why. After a moment’s more
deliberation, it became obvious to her why Blake had insisted she go with him
to the cellar. It gave his accomplice, whoever that was, time to search their
rooms whilst Caroline was absent and Mrs Oakengate slept soundly. They were
looking for the Cariastan Heart.
She crept back to her own
room and pulled the door to, vowing to sit up all night if she had to and
prevent any further violation of hers and Mrs Oakengate’s property. Taking a
blanket from the bed, she sat in the chair with her book, and tried to read,
whilst her mind played over the events of the evening. She was still not sure
how Blake had persuaded Jack Henderson to let him join the house party, unless
Jack was in on it. That seemed unlikely. Jack was already very rich, and the
Cariastan Heart, though magnificent, would not be worth much more than half a
million pounds. Henderson was reputed to be a millionaire several times
over. No, it would have to be someone to
whom that was a lot of money. Like a newspaper reporter.
She felt tears prick her
eyes and brushed them away impatiently. Why should she care if Blake were a
crook? In her experience, handsome men were. Her father had betrayed his best
friend, his wife and child and his own country. Why should Blake Laurenson be
any different?
“Stephens…” The voice came
out of nowhere. Caroline came to, realising that despite her vow, she had dozed
off. She looked up sleepily to see that the lights had dimmed again.
“Stephens,” the voice said, and Lady Cassandra appeared in the darkness.
“What? What about Stephens?”
A shadow dashed by Caroline,
before disappearing. At the same time the lights came up again. She ran from
her room and down the hallway, towards the kitchen, looking for Stephens. She
had no idea where in the house he slept, so she thought to try his sitting
room. As she passed through into the rear passage, the clock in the kitchen
chimed five o’clock. It was only when Caroline had opened the sitting room door
to look in and then stepped back into the back hallway that she saw the door to
the cellar was open.
It took every bit of courage
she possessed to light and candle and go down there alone, terrified of what
she would find. Hesitated with each step, she descended into the cellar; half
wishing Blake was there with his cheery chatter, before reminding herself that
he was up to something sinister. She found Stephens near to the gas taps. He
was lying on the floor, with blood gushing from his head.
She turned, ready to run and
fetch help and bumped into Blake.
“What’s happened?”
“Stephens has been hurt. I
was just about to go and get an ambulance. Someone knocked him out.”
“What were you doing down
here?” Blake stood with his arms folded, blocking her path.
“You don’t think I’ve hurt
him, do you?” Caroline did not want to have to explain about Lady Cassandra.
She doubted Blake would believe her.
“It’s very early in the
morning and you’re in the cellar alone with a man who’s been knocked on the
head. What should I think?”
“You’re here too! Where did
you spring from? Anyway, we’re wasting time here, suspecting each other. The
man needs a doctor and I’m beginning to wonder why you’re stopping me from
getting one.”
Blake pursed his lips,
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