Died in the Wool

To Ursula’s lot had fallen a long path ru

“No gossiping, now,” said Flossie. “Be thorough.” She turned down the lavender path, moving slowly. Ursula watched her go. The hills beyond her had now darkened to a purple that was almost black, and, by the blotting out of nearer forms, Flossie seemed to walk directly into these hills until, reaching the end of the path, she turned to the left and suddenly vanished.

Ursula walked round the top of the te

“He said the beam from the torch caught it and it sent out sparks of blue light. They shouted: ‘Got it. We’ve found it!’ and we all met on the te

They had trailed rather wearily into the dining-room just as the nine-o’clock bulletin was begi

“I’ll just run up with it. Auntie Floss will like to know it’s found.”

It struck her that the house was extraordinarily quiet. This impression deepened as she climbed the stairs. She stood for a moment on the top landing, listening. In all moments of quietude, undercurrents of sound, generally unheard, became disconcertingly audible. The day had been hot and the old wooden house relaxed with stealthy sighs or sudden cracks. Flossie’s room was opposite the stair-head. Ursula, stock-still on the landing, listened intently for any movement in the room. There was none. She moved nearer to the door and, stooping down, could just see the printed legend. Flossie was adamant about obedience to this notice, but Ursula paused while the inane couplet which she couldn’t read jigged through her memory —

Please don’t knock upon my door.

The only answer is a snore.

Auntie Flossie, she confessed, was a formidable snorer. Indeed it was mainly on this score that Uncle Arthur, an uneasy sleeper, had removed to an adjoining room. But on this night no energetic counterpoint of intake and expulsion sounded from behind the closed door. Ursula waited in vain and a small trickle of apprehension dropped down her spine. She stole away to her own room and wrote a little note: “It’s found. Happy trip, darling. We’ll listen to you.”

When she came back and slid it under Flossie’s door the room beyond was still quite silent.

Ursula returned to the dining-room. She said the light dazzled her eyes after the dark landing and she stood in the doorway and peered at the group round the table. “It’s odd, isn’t it, how, for no particular reason, something you see will stick in your memory? I mean there was no particular significance about my going back to the dining-room. I didn’t know, then. Terry stood behind Uncle Arthur’s chair. Fabian was lighting a cigarette and I remember feeling worried about him—” Ursula paused unaccountably. “I thought he’d been overdoing things a bit,” she said. “Douglas was sitting on the table with his back towards me. They all turned their heads as I came in. Of course they were just wondering if I’d given her the diamond clip, but it seems to me now that they asked me where she was. And, really, I answered as if they had done so. I said: ‘She’s in her room. She’s asleep!’ ”

“Did it strike you as odd that she’d made no inquiries about the clip?” Alleyn asked.

“Not very odd. It was her way to organize things and then leave them, knowing they’d be done. She was rather wonderful like that. She never nagged.”

“There’s no need to nag if you’re an efficient dictator,” Fabian pointed out. “I’ll admit her efficiency.”

“Masculine jealousy,” said Ursula without malice and he gri

Ursula waited for a moment and then continued her narrative.

“We were all rather quiet. I suppose we were tired. We had a drink each and then we parted for the night. We keep early hours on the plateau, Mr. Alleyn. Can you face breakfast at a quarter to six?”

“With gusto.”

“Good… We all went quietly upstairs and said goodnight in whispers on the landing. My room is at the end of the landing and overlooks the side lawn. Terry’s is opposite Auntie Florence’s, and there’s a bathroom next door to her that is opposite Uncle Arthur’s dressing-room where he was sleeping. He’d once had a bad attack in the night and Auntie always left the communicating door open so that he could call to her. He remembered afterwards that this door was shut and that he’d opened it a crack and listened, thinking, as I had thought, how still she was. The boys’ rooms are down the corridor and the servants’ quarters at the back. When I came out in my dressing-gown to go to the bathroom, I met Terry. We could hear Uncle Arthur moving about quietly in his room. I glanced down the corridor and saw Douglas there and, farther along, Fabian in the door of his room. We all had candles, of course. We didn’t speak. It seemed to me that we were all listening. We’ve agreed, since, that we felt, not exactly uneasy, but not quite comfortable. Restless. I didn’t go to sleep for some time and when I did it was to dream that I was searching in rather terrifying places for the diamond clip. It was somewhere in the wool-shed but I couldn’t find it because the party had started and Auntie Florence was making a speech on the edge of a precipice. I was late for an appointment and hunted in that horribly thwarted way one does in nightmares. I wouldn’t have bored you with my dream if it hadn’t turned into the dark staircase with me feeling on the treads for the brooch. The stairs creaked, like they do at night, but I knew somebody was crossing the landing and I was terrified and woke up. The point is,” said Ursula, leaning forward and looking directly at Alleyn, “somebody really was crossing the landing.”