Free Footsteps in the Dark by Georgette Heyer Page B

any one of the windows, Mr. Flinders produced no theories. On the way downstairs, however, he volunteered the information that he wouldn't sleep a night in the house, not if he was paid to. This was not reassuring, and Celia at once asked him whether he knew anything about the Priory hauntings. Mr. Flinders drew a deep breath, and told her various stories of things heard on the premises after dark. After this he went all over the sitting-rooms, and asked to be conducted to the secret entrance to the cellars.
    "I'll tell Bowers to take you down," said Celia. "He knows, because he helped seal it up."
    In the kitchen she left him in charge of Mrs. Bowers, a formidable woman who eyed him with complete disfavour. An attempt on his part to submit her kitchen to an exhaustive search was grimly frustrated. "I don't hold with bobbies poking their noses where they're not wanted, and never did," she said. "It 'ud take a better burglar than any I ever heard of to get into my kitchen, and if I find one here I shall know what to do without sending for you."
    Mr. Flinders, again very red about the ears, said huskily that he had to do his duty, and meant no offence.
    "That's right," said Mrs. Bowers, "you get on and do your duty, and I'll do mine, only don't you go opening my cupboards and turning things over with your great clumsy hands, or out you go, double-quick. Nice time I should have clearing up after you'd pulled everything about."
    "I'm sure the place does you credit," said Mr. Flinders feebly, with a vague idea of propitiating her. "What I thought was, there might be a way in at the back of that great dresser."
    "Well, there isn't," she replied uncompromisingly, and began to roll and bang a lump of pastry with an energy that spoke well for her muscular powers.
    "I suppose," said Mr. Flinders, shifting his feet uneasily, "I suppose you wouldn't mind me taking a look inside the copper? I have heard of a man hiding in one of them things."
    "Not in this house, you haven't," responded Mrs. Bowers. "And if you think I'm going to have you prying into the week's washing you're mistaken. The idea!"
    "I didn't know you'd got the washing in it," apologised Mr. Flinders.
    "No, I expect you thought I kept goldfish there," retorted the lady.
    This crushing rejoinder quite cowed the constable. He coughed, and after waiting a minute asked whether she would show him the cellars. "Which I've been asked to inspect," he added boldly.
    "I've got something better to do than to waste my time trapesing round nasty damp cellars at this hour," she said. "If you want to go down I'm sure I've no objection. You won't find anything except rats, and if you can put those great muddy boots of yours on one instead of dirtying my clean floor with them you'll be more use than ever I expected. Bowers!"
    In reply to this shrill call her husband emerged presently from the pantry, where it seemed probable that he had been enjoying a brief siesta. Mrs. Bowers pointed the rolling-pin at Mr. Flinders. "You've got to take this young fellow down to the cellars and show him the place where the master made all that mess with the cement yesterday," she said. "And don't bring him back here. I've never been in the habit of having bobbies in my kitchen and I'm not going to start at my time of life."
    Both men withdrew rather hastily. "You mustn't mind my missus," Bowers said. "It's only her way. She doesn't hold with ghosts, and things, but I can tell you I'm glad to see you here. Awful, this place is. You wouldn't believe the things I've heard."
    By the time they had explored the dank, tomb-like cellars, and twice scared themselves by holding the lamp in such a way that their own shadows were cast in weird elongated shapes on the wall, Bowers and the constable were more than ready to confirm a sudden but deep friendship in a suitable quantity of beer. They retired to the pantry, and regaled themselves with this comforting beverage until Bowers found that it was time for him to