Free Death of a Peer by Ngaio Marsh

hand with Gabriel. All this was fortunately uttered in such a muffled aside that Roberta could hear no more than half of it. Lady Katherine was too insistent, however, for Roberta to divide her own attention and she had no idea of what went forward between the Lampreys and the Wutherwoods until she heard Frid say: “No, Uncle Gabriel, I shall be bitterly humiliated if you don’t ask us to do one for you.” Roberta saw that Lord Wutherwood looked slightly less disagreeable. Frid was presenting herself as a lovely and attentive niece.
    “I’m so glad you agree with me,” whispered Lady Katherine. “There is no doubt at all, in my mind, of our duty to these poor things.” Roberta did not know if she spoke of the Lampreys, of ailing children, or of Jewish refugees, in all of whom she seemed to be passionately interested. Frid had refilled her uncle’s glass. Lady Wutherwood was droning interminably to Henry and the twins who appeared to be enraptured with the recital. Charlot suddenly broke up this comparatively peaceful picture by making the much-discussed announcement.
    “Children,” she said gaily. “Frid’s been telling Uncle Gabriel about your charades. Do you think you could do a very quick rhyming charade now, for Aunt Violet and Aunt Kit and Uncle Gabriel? Don’t take ages deciding what to do; just do the first thing that comes into your heads. We’ll give you a word. Out you go.”
    “Come on, Robin,” said Henry.
    Robin, full of misgivings, followed the Lampreys into the ball.

Chapter V
Mike Puts the Pot on It
    “This is a mistake,” said Henry gloomily as soon as he had shut the door. “Obviously Uncle G.’s in a foul temper and we won’t improve it by cutting capers in front of him. I must say he’s a loathsome old man.”
    “Well, let’s compromise,” said Frid. “We won’t do one about bums. Let’s do one about witchcraft. Uncle G. will like that because he’ll think it’s making nonsense of Aunt V. and Aunt V. will be interested if we do it well enough.”
    “She’s quite m-mad, you know, poor thing,” said Stephen. “D-don’t you consider she’s mad, Colin?”
    “Stark ravers,” said Colin. “Where’s Mike?”
    “Talking to Giggle about toy trains, I think. He’s better out of this.”
    “Let’s get going,” said Patch. “Mummy said we were to hurry.”
    The door opened and Charlot looked out. “It’s to rhyme with ‘pale,’ ” she said loudly and then lowering her voice she hissed: “It’s ‘nail.’ Don’t do either of the other things. Too risky.” The door shut and Charlot called from the other side: “Hurry up!”
    Frid made a helpless gesture. “Well, there you are,” she said. “No bums and no witches and the word is ‘nail.’ Evidently Mummy wants us to get it right at the first stab. What shall we do?”
    “Bite our nails?” suggested Patch.
    “Put a nail in Uncle G.’s coffin,” said Henry viciously.
    “Nailing our colours to the mast?”
    “I know,” said Frid. “We’ll do Jael and Sisera.”
    “What did they d-do?” asked Stephen.
    “Something with a nail. What was it, Robin?”
    “Didn’t Jael hammer a nail through Sisera’s head?”
    “That’s right,” said Colin. “Well, we can be clever and do wail and hail and Jael and nail all at once. A compound charade.”
    The Lampreys threw open the door of their enormous hall cupboard and began to dress themselves up.
    “I’ll be Jael,” said Frid, “and Henry can be Sisera and the twins guards and Robin a faithful slave.”
    “What am I?” demanded Patch, putting on Lord Wutherwood’s bowler.
    “Another faithful slave. Wait a moment.”
    Frid ran down the passage towards the kitchen. Roberta could hear her shouting: “A skewer, Baskett, a skewer! We’re doing a charade. Quick!”
    “Did Jael make love to Sisera,” asked Colin, “before he slew her?”
    “Jael’s the female,” said Stephen.
    “Oh. Give me that ghastly scarf, will you. Is it Uncle