‘What made you get rid of Billie Kennett and Elysée Barnes?’ asked Laura. ‘They were harmless, I would have thought, from what I know of them. Anyway, they might have been pleased to be included.’
‘Not Kennett. Besides, the Master only co-opted those whom he could trust. Our band—’ She dropped her voice and glanced at Piper’s closed door.
‘Your band, yes. The other is somewhat different.’ (I am talking through the back of my neck, thought Laura. She only hoped she could get away with what was becoming a gigantic bluff.)
‘Different?’ said Niobe.
‘Yes.’
‘Can you tell me more?’
‘My drawings will tell you everything you want to know.’
But at this point Niobe seemed to lose her nervousness. She looked narrowly at Laura.
‘If you are what you say you are—’ she began.
‘I have said nothing yet.’
‘Oh, but of course you have! If you are what you claim to be, why have I never seen you before?’
‘Oh, but you have! That is to say, you have seen my familiar. By the way, before I draw my picture, we need a witness.’
‘To what?’
‘To the drawing itself, for one thing, and to make sure you don’t start any funny business, for another, while I am absorbed in my task.’
‘Perhaps you would care to name the witness, since you seem to know some of my tenants so well,’ said Niobe, tearful again, but with a sarcastic edge to her voice.
‘Certainly. Please send for your charwoman.’
So Mrs Smith was summoned and stood by while Laura sketched the picture with which the junk-shop proprietor had refused to part.
‘Yes, fair enough,’ Niobe admitted, ‘but any ordinary shop-customer could have seen that. It is kept hanging on the wall behind the counter.’
‘Just so. I wonder,’ said Laura, turning to the interested and puzzled charwoman, ‘whether you would be good enough to sign my drawing, Mrs Smith?’
‘Who? Me? I don’t sign nothing without I know what I am signing. No small print don’t fool me,’ said the factotum severely. ‘They warns you on the telly.’
‘So they do.’ Laura put the drawing into her handbag and, unsheathing the yataghan, she asked: ‘In your peregrinations round and about this house, have you ever seen this sword before?’
‘No, that I haven’t,’ said Mrs Smith, ‘and would not wish to do. I hate anything of that sort. And now, if it’s all the same, my time is worth money and I’ve still got Mr Targe to do.’ She made a dignified exit. Laura put down the yataghan, but kept it, still unsheathed, under her hand. With the other hand she pointed to a chair in a corner of the room but on its window side, so that, from where she was, she could keep an eye on it and on its occupant.
Niobe took the seat which had been indicated, and, with a few swift lines, Laura sketched the evil-looking object which had taken the place of the picture and dropped some red ink on it from the bottle on the desk. Then she stood up, picked up her naked yataghan and moved a little way off from the desk, indicating, with a wave of the hand and a masterful jerk of the head, that Niobe, who was clearly in a state of ferment, was to approach.
‘How about that?’ she asked, pointing to her red-ink-spattered drawing.
‘Her reactions were rather interesting,’ said Laura, recounting the story of her visit. Niobe’s reaction, upon being shown the drawing had been to exclaim, ‘So you know!’ To this Laura had replied: ‘Know what? Like the recent witness, I also read the small print.’
‘Know that the Master of Cups, Wands and Swords is dead.’
‘Upon which,’ said Laura, ‘she flung herself on to the carpet and, although she didn’t actually bite pieces out of it, one got the impression that it was only the feeling that she wouldn’t like the taste of it which restrained her. She drummed with the toe-caps of her sensible ward-shoes and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I left her to it, picked up both my drawings so that I could show them to you to see what you thought of them, and left as unobtrusively as possible after I’d wrapped up the yataghan again. I fancy it proved a real friend in time of need. Is that why you told me to take it with me?’
‘We live in an age of violence. Soon it will be suicidal for any woman (or man, either, for that matter) to stir abroad without ominous means of defence.’
‘What do you make of the Nutley reactions?’
‘Nothing, except that she knew of the antique-dealer’s death, as she seems to have assumed that you did.’
‘So she’s a double murderer!’
‘It has not yet been proved that she is a single one, of course. We have to remember that the death of this Eurasian warlock may have taken place after Chelion Piper’s release.’
‘Was it because you knew you would be recognised by Niobe and that, possibly, she would refuse to see you, that you sent me instead of going there yourself?’
‘That did cross my mind, of course. Besides, I cannot draw pictures. These sketches of yours are masterly.’
‘Just little things I toss off while I’m thinking about my next Academy picture. Have I really done any good?’
‘You have confirmed something which I had already guessed.’
‘About a nest of vipers being, in actual fact, a nest of witches?’
‘Exactly.’
‘What made you think so?’
‘I did not think so until I spoke with Miss Barnes.’
‘Spoke with? Not spoke to?’
‘Come, come! Do the prepositions of the most beautiful and articulate language on earth mean nothing to you?’
‘All right, then, until you spoke with Miss Barnes. Incidentally, I was not surprised that she was young and pretty, but I was surprised that she was so tall.’
‘She is what is called a model, as well as her having a reputation for possessing literary and artistic gifts.’
‘Well, she could give me an inch or so, and I’m above average height for a woman.’
‘I believe many models are nearly or quite six feet tall. They are thought to show off fashionable clothes better than women of lesser height can do.’
‘I call it a damn silly idea. What looks amazingly good on a stream-lined beauty queen of twenty-odd is just plumb ridiculous on a five-foot-three dump of wealthy middle-agery.’
‘Your strictures are very just, but now back to work.’
‘You don’t really think Piper is guilty and that the police arrested the right man after all, do you?’
‘Time and my familiar spirit will show. Ah, and talking of familiar spirits reminds me of a conversation I had with Mr Shard soon after I arrived at Weston Pipers. It meant something at the time, but coupled with our visit to Miss Kennett and Miss Barnes, it means a good deal more now.’
‘Familiar spirits? All that witchcraft business upstairs in the junk shop?’
‘All that Satanism upstairs in the junk shop, yes. There was the strange remark made by Miss Barnes, if you remember, as to the advisability of her contracting a matrimonial alliance.’
‘But do you think she was a virgin when she decided to hitch on to Hempseed?’
‘I have no doubt that a jury of witch-matrons had pronounced judgment and found in her favour.’
‘A sacrificial victim! No wonder she was scared enough to take Hempseed for better, for worse! So what next?’
‘When I have had a further talk with Miss Kennett, I shall seek out Mr Shard and find out exactly how much he knows. His propensity for spying and “listening ahint doors” may stand us in good stead.’
‘I suppose,’ said Laura, struck by a new idea, ‘all these witchcraft developments won’t end in washing out Niobe Nutley from the list of Murderers We Have Known?’
‘It is a thought which merits consideration, certainly.’
‘Does it put Piper back in the picture?’
‘He has never been entirely out of it. He had much to lose if Miss Minnie had lived to pursue her claim to Mrs Dupont-Jacobson’s property.’