“There is no insult I can fling at Mr. Midsomer which he would not deserve,” said Prunella. “He shall hear them all, and defend himself, if he can! Where is he?”
“Do not you know?” said Mrs. Midsomer, with a curious half-smile. “And Geoffrey was so worried when he heard you had been at our party! I told him you were of no account, and he ought to focus his attention on the Sorcerer Royal. Geoffrey has a silly habit of seeing enemies wherever he looks.”
“He is right to be worried about me,” declared Prunella. “Iamhis enemy, and I know what he is about. Tell him I have found this!”
She presented the orb with a flourish.
“Where did you get that?” said Mrs. Midsomer sharply. “It is not yours!”
“It certainly is not,” said Prunella, closing her hand around the orb. “I am not in the habit of trying to murder Sorcerers Royal. But Mr. Midsomer is—and he shall account for it!”
Mrs. Midsomer’s grey eyes widened, and she stepped forward, actually reaching out to clasp Prunella’s arm.
“It worked?” said Mrs. Midsomer. “Zacharias Wythe is dead?”
Prunella withdrew her arm in disgust. “I am not sorry to disappoint you, but no, he is not. He is a great deal more difficult to kill than your master seems to believe, and I must say your master is an absurdly ineffectual murderer!”
“My master!” sniffed Mrs. Midsomer. “He knows nothing of it!”
She snatched the orb from Prunella’s grasp, moving so quickly that Prunella had lost it before she knew what was happening.
“You ought not to take things that are not yours,” said Mrs. Midsomer.
She spoke always with a slight, charming accent of indefinable origin. It was stronger now, and her voice itself seemed to change. It had deep tones in it that were not altogether human, but recalled the clash of thunder and the deep-chested roar of the sea. Mrs. Midsomer’s shadow grew, expanding so rapidly that it filled the room.
Prunella took a step back, and then another. Nidget was taut in her arms, waiting to spring. She could feel the presence of her two other familiars outside. She had been striving to restrain them, but if she didnot suppress her increasing fright, they would soon burst in. She bumped into a table and looked around. The painting of the sibyl was behind her.
“You have been remarkably foolish, chit!” said Mrs. Midsomer in a booming inhuman voice. “Zacharias Wythe may have escaped me again, but you need not think you will be so fortunate!”
“Sibyl,” said Prunella. She was glad to hear her voice ring out, hardly trembling at all. “Pray tell me, who is Mrs. Midsomer?”
“Lorelei,” said the sibyl behind her. “Monstress, siren and mermaid—murderess in desire if not in truth—and a paltry hussy if I ever knew one!”
“Be quiet!” snarled Mrs. Midsomer. She lobbed her orb at Prunella.
Light burst forth from the orb in an array of colours—green, purple, blue and red. Each ribbon of light was a curse, and they scythed through the air towards Prunella.
“Nidget! Youko! Tjandra!” cried Prunella. “To me!”
•••
ZACHARIAS’Stemples throbbed as he hurried down the stairs. He had passed the night in Lady Wythe’s spare room, and overslept in consequence. This invariably happened when Lady Wythe was present to overrule his orders to be awoken at such and such a time:
“Nonsense!” she would say. “Zacharias ought to rest. It would be the height of wickedness to wake him. Do you but try it, Lucy, and you shall have to look for another place.”
Yet it had been Lucy who woke him in the end, at Lady Wythe’s behest. Lady Wythe rose when he entered the sitting room, wringing her hands. Damerell was there also, pacing a groove into the carpet while he muttered a formula under his breath.
“Oh Zacharias,” cried Lady Wythe. “The poor motherless girl! I feel culpable, truly. I ought never to have lent countenance to herpursuit of an establishment. I should have done more to bring home to her the folly in proceeding as she did. And this is the result!”
The note she thrust into Zacharias’s hand bore a few lines in Prunella’s round, ungainly handwriting.
Dear Lady Wythe,
By the time you read these words I shall be gone. I beg you will not be alarmed—I shall be back before you know it—but pray tender my apologies to Mr. Wythe if I should miss our lesson today. When I return I think I may promise a GREAT SURPRISE! What I mean I cannot tell you now, only wait and you shall see. You may tell Mr. Wythe I have taken mycase, and plan to put to use my acquaintance with his friend Mr. Hsiang.
I am, your humble and affectionate servant, &c.
“Now what does this mean?” said Zacharias.
