Page 175 of Storm of Bells
‘Don’t you remember my brilliant advertisingstrategies?’ I patted his shoulder, giving him a broad grin. ‘Thisplan is just as ingenious. Trust me.’
CrackingDalgliesh
Crack!
‘Psst! Don’t walk so heavily!’
‘The weight of my feet is difficult to alter,Sahiba.’
‘Well, try!’
Pushing aside one of the branches ahead, Ipeered through the foliage. Beyond, the back wall of Dalgliesh’smanor house rose into the sky. It wasn’t nearly as majestic as MrAmbrose’s furniture emporium. Apparently, Dalgliesh had had toacquire a place in a hurry, and hadn’t been able to find one thatsuited his taste for luxury. However, there was one of Dalgliesh’sneeds that was undoubtedly being fulfilled by this place:security.
The windows on the ground level of the houseall had thick iron bars. The doors, made of oak and reinforced withsteel, seemed equally sturdy. Guards were positioned all around thehouse, armed with rifles and dressed in the uniform of thepresidency armies, Dalgliesh’s personal lapdogs.
We had only been able to sneak this close tothe house by staying in the cover of the trees. However, the woodsdidn’t extend all the way to the back of the house, and, sooner orlater, we would have to step out into the open. A move that, undercurrent conditions, would be pure suicide.
Well, hopefully, something would soon happento change that.
‘Where is he?’ I hissed. Reaching into mypocket, I let my watch snap open. ‘He’s late!’
‘Your chronometer must be malfunctioning. TheSahibalways comes punctually.’
‘Really? I can remember this one time when wewere in bed together, and—’
Karim’s outraged croak was interrupted by thesound of a doorbell from around the house. Instantly, the guards’grip on their rifles tightened and they turned towards the front ofthe building. Moments later, I heard the sound of a dooropening.
‘Sir, may I help you?’ The butler. Only abutler could have a voice that sounded so thoroughly starched.‘Would you like me—’
‘Is your master at home?’ Mr Ambrose’s voicecut through the butler’s words.
‘My master?’
‘Lord Dalgliesh, right?’
‘How do you know that? No one is supposed toknow of His Lordship’s presence!’
‘I know! I’ve known all along! I’m MrRidgeway!’
‘Ridgeway? I’m afraid I don’t recognize thatname, Sir.’
‘You must be joking! His Lordship nevermentioned me? Not once?’
‘No.’
‘Bloody hell! I can’t deal with these kindsof delays. Not now of all times!’
‘Why? What’s the hurry, Sir?’
‘What is the hurry, you ask? This! This isthe hurry!’
I heard a gasp from the butler. And I knewexactly why. I knew exactly what Mr Ambrose, alias Mr Ridgeway, washolding out to the butler. A certain handkerchief covered withbloodstains.
‘That’s His Lordship’s handkerchief!’
‘Correct.’
‘And that’s blood!’
