Look to the Lady (32 page)

As Campion stared, a pulse in his throat throbbing violently, the light seemed to concentrate on the figure.

It was that of a giant, and at first he thought it was but an immense suit of black armour only, fashioned for a man of legendary stature, but as his eye travelled slowly down the great gyves to the wrists, he caught sight of the human hands, gnarled, yellow, and shapeless like knotted willow roots. Between them, resting on the slab, was the Gyrth Chalice, whose history was lost behind the veils of legend.

It was a little shallow bowl of red gold, washed from the English mountain streams before the Romans came. A little shallow bowl whose beaten sides showed the marks of a long-dead goldsmith's hammer, and in whose red heart a cluster of uncut rubies lay like blood, still guarded by the first Messire Gyrth who earned for Sanctuary its name.

Campion raised his eyes slowly to the head of the figure and was relieved to find that the visor was down. The head was thrown back, the mute iron face raised to the circular window through which Mrs Dick had peered.

There was utter silence in the little cell with its ancient frescoes and dust-strewn floor of coloured flags. The door by which they had entered was hidden in the stone work. Turning again, Campion saw the great sword of the warrior hanging on the wall behind the kneeling figure, the huge hilt forming a cross behind its head.

The Professor was gazing at the Chalice with tears in his eyes, a spontaneous tribute to its beauty which he did not attempt to hide.

As Campion stared at the figure he was obsessed by the uncanny feeling that it might move at any moment, that the mummified hands might snatch the sword from the wall and the great figure tower above the impious strangers who had disturbed his vigil. It was with relief that he heard the Colonel's quiet voice.

‘If you are ready, gentlemen –'

No other word was spoken. Val retied the handkerchief and once again there was the grating of metal and the procession started on its return journey. The Professor stumbled once or twice on the stairs, and Campion felt that his own knees were a little unsteady. It was not that the sight had been particularly horrible, although there had been a suggestion about the hands that was not pleasant; nor did the idea of the lonely watcher keeping eternal vigil over the treasured relic he had won fill him with repugnance. But there had been something more than mortal about this ageless giant, something uncanny which filled him with almost superstitious awe, and he was glad that Penny did not know, that she could live and laugh in a house that hid this strange piece of history within its walls, unconscious of its existence.

They were still silent when once more they stood in the daylight in the old banqueting hall. The Colonel glanced at his watch.

‘We meet the ladies for tea on the lawn in fifteen minutes,' he said. ‘Mrs Cairey promised me she'd come, Professor.'

The old man dusted his hands abstractedly. There were plaster and cobwebs on all their clothes. Campion carried the Professor off to his room, leaving his host to attend to the other visitor.

No word of comment had been made, nor did anyone feel that any such remark was possible.

In Mr Campion's pleasant Georgian room the tension relaxed.

‘Lands sakes,' said the Professor, subsiding into a little tub chair by the window. ‘Lands sakes.'

Mr Campion glanced over the lawn. The white table surrounded by garden chairs was set under the trees. Branch was already half-way towards it with a tea-wagon on which glittered the best silver, and a service which had been old when Penny's grandmother was a girl. Mrs Cairey, Beth and Penny, looking cool and charming, their flowered chiffon frocks sweeping the lawn, were admiring the flower-beds, in the far distance. It was a graceful, twentieth-century picture, peaceful and ineffably soothing, incredibly removed from the world they had just left. The tinkle of china came pleasantly to them as Branch began to arrange the table.

They were interrupted by the unceremonious entrance of Lugg with a tray bearing glasses, a siphon and a decanter.

‘Branch sent me up with this lot,' he remarked. ‘I should 'ave it. A b and s will do yer good any time o' day.'

Even the Professor, who restricted himself to one whisky-and-soda a day out of deference to his wife's principles, accepted the proffered drink gratefully. Lugg hung about, apparently seeking an opening for conversation.

‘They ain't 'alf doing 'Is Nibs proud downstairs,' he said. ‘I've bin 'elping that girl I took a fancy to to clean the silver all the afternoon. Old Branch didn't take 'is eyes off me the 'ole time. If 'e counted them spoons once 'e counted 'em a dozen times. I couldn't 'elp pinchin' this.' He laid a delicate pair of Georgian sugar-tongs on the dressing-table with a certain pride.

His master looked at him in disgust. ‘Don't lay your filthy bone at my feet,' he said. ‘What do you expect me to do with it?'

‘Put it back for me,' said Mr Lugg unabashed. ‘It won't look so bad if you get noticed. I've got me record to think of. There's nothing in writin' against you.'

‘Go away,' said Campion. ‘I'm going to sell you to a designer of children's cuddle-toys. You can pack my things after tea, by the way. We go back to Town tomorrow morning.'

‘Then you've finished?' said the Professor, looking up.

Campion nodded. ‘It's over,' he said. ‘They'll stick to their rules, you know. Their employee is dead; that finishes it. I was talking to old poker-back downstairs. He's convinced we shall hear no more from them. The Maharajah has had his turn. They're connoisseurs more than criminals, you see. This is so definitely not one of their successes that I should think they'll turn their attention to Continental museums again for a bit.'

‘I see.' The Professor was silent for some moments. Then he frowned. ‘I wonder –' he began, and hesitated.

Campion seemed to understand the unspoken thought, for he turned to Lugg.

‘You can go back to Audrey,' he said. ‘Any more thieving, and I'll tell her about the picture of Greta Garbo you keep under your pillow.'

As the door was closed behind the disconsolate and still inquisitive Lugg, the Professor remained silent, and Campion went on.

‘I couldn't understand why my precious boss downstairs hadn't told me about the second Chalice at the beginning,' he said. ‘I see it now. He's a man of very conservative ideas, and after the awe-inspiring oath of secrecy I suppose he thought he had no alternative but to let me find it out for myself. That complicated things at the start, but I'm not sure it didn't make it easier for us in the long run.'

The Professor nodded absently. His mind was still dwelling upon the experience of the afternoon.

‘What a lovely, lovely thing,' he said. ‘I may sound a bit inhuman, but when I looked at that Chalice today, it occurred to me that probably in the last fifteen hundred years it has cost the lives of Heaven knows how many thieves and envious people, by looking at it. Campion, do you know, I thought it was worth it.'

Mr Campion did not answer. The thought in his mind was one that had rankled ever since he had stood with the others in that little painted cell, looking in at the Chalice and its guardian. What had Mrs Dick seen when she had looked in the window that had differed from their own experience? She had been no easily frightened woman, nor was hers an imaginative nature. He spoke aloud, almost without realizing it.

‘What exactly did she see when she looked through that window? Why did she say “no”? Who did she say it to? Just what was it that made her let go?'

He paused. Outside on the lawn the chatter of feminine voices was coming nearer. Mr Campion was still puzzled.

‘I don't understand it,' he said.

The Professor glanced up at him. ‘Oh, that?' he said. ‘That's quite obvious. The light was shining directly upon the figure. The head was raised to the window, if you remember.'

‘Yes, but –' said Mr Campion, and was silent.

‘Yes,' said the Professor thoughtfully, ‘I think it's perfectly clear. On the night of the birthday, when she looked in, the visor was up. She saw his face … I'm afraid it may be a very shocking sight.'

‘But she spoke,' said Mr Campion. ‘She spoke as if she was replying to someone. And I heard something, I swear it.'

The Professor leant forward in his chair and spoke with unusual emphasis. ‘My very dear boy,' he said, ‘I'll say this. It doesn't do to dwell on these things.'

The gentle clangour of the gong in the hall below broke in upon the silence.

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