“There!” Luce said, when all was ready. “Here is an axe, conveniently located for the use of any passing murderer, you would think. Now, Michael, where is Mr Nicholson’s room?”
“At the top of the stairs, the right-hand ones.”
“Then you must start there.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced ahead, while Luce followed more sedately. Then she bound his eyes securely.
“No peeking.”
“Certainly not! That would be cheating.”
“Now, you are Lady Alice,” Luce said to him. “You have just come out of your room behind us, and you have your left hand on the rail to guide you down.”
“Very well,” he said, placing his hand on the rail.
“Now, you know exactly where the axe is, so go and retrieve it. Sandy, make sure he does not miss a step. I will not be pleased if my husband falls and breaks his neck.”
He could hear a low murmur from the watching crowd below, but someone hushed them. Feeling for each step with his foot, and holding onto the rail, Michael slowly descended.
“Are you there, Sandy?”
“Right here, Captain,” he said, the voice so close Michael stopped in surprise.
Then, relieved, he carried on until he reached the half-landing. “Now I have to let go of the rail and cross to the armour display.”
“Exactly so. You are doing very well,” Luce said kindly.
Cautiously, he felt his way across the open space, arms spread out before him, feet inching forward. “Ha! The vase,” he said, his hands resting on its lacquered surface. “So, a little to the left.” One of his hands touched a suit of armour, which swayed alarmingly. “Aha! I am there. Now what am I touching? I think this is the rightmost display, so the axe must be about—”
Someone gave a squeak of alarm. Then something hit Michael hard in the chest, bowling him over, while with a cacophony of metallic crashes and clatterings, objects bounced off him and all around him, falling with dull thuds down the stairs, followed by louder clinks and tinkles as a variety of metal objects bounced across the tiled floor of the great hall.
For a long, long time, Michael lay motionless, as the clatter gradually died away. Then he started to laugh. “Well, that was spectacular!”
The scarf was whisked from his eyes, and he gazed up into Luce’s anxious face. “Are you injured, Michael?”
“Not in the slightest, and see, I have the axe!” He raised his hand, still firmly gripping the axe handle.
“Just as well, or it might have chopped off something vital as it fell. The mace missed you by a whisker, and Sandy was accosted by a flying helmet. I think you have some apologies to make.”
She indicated the great hall below. Michael jumped up and stared down at the devastation he had caused. Bits of armour and weapons were scattered over the entire floor, as servants bustled about gathering up items.
One servant in particular glared at him balefully as he carefully descended, avoiding scattered debris. Lady Alice’s maid, Malling, was breathing heavily, her posture rigid with anger.
“You thoughther ladyshipkilled poor Mr Nicholson!” she spat at him as soon as he was within range. “How dare you! As if my mistress would ever demean herself to… tomurder, and her own husband? Never! She adored him, that I’ll swear to on the Holy Book.”
“No, no, Miss Malling, I assure you,” Michael said, hands raised placatingly. “My object was to prove that the Lady Alice couldnothave murdered her husband, for you can see what happens when a blind person attempts to take the axe. Disaster. She could not have done it. As soon as this mess is tidied up, I shall go directly to her ladyship and apologise for ever suspecting her. But first, I must apologise to everyone else for causing so much trouble.”
“No trouble, Captain,” the butler said, winking. “You are as good as a farce at the theatre, what with drainpipes and dogs, and now this. And no harm done, after all.”
It took two hours for order to be restored, for Michael could not be satisfied until he had rebuilt the display exactly as it had been before, which, without Mr Eustace, was not as easy as it looked. But eventually, the last gauntlet and greave and breastplate was in place. Then he had to extract the axe again,without the blindfold this time, and without knocking over the display again.
“It is surprisingly awkward to do,” he said, frowning. “At night, by the light of only a candle, it would be excessively difficult, and to pull it away sharply enough to break the belt — no, it could not be done without setting off the cascade. Interesting.”
“Michael, there is someone in the great hall who I believe wishes to see you,” Luce said.
He turned and saw Tom Shapman at the foot of the stairs, watching him expressionlessly.
“Mr Shapman, are you wanting me? Have you had word from Miss Nicholson… or some information for me?”
