Free Surfeit of Lampreys by Ngaio Marsh Page B

enough.”
    â€œShe’s quite m-mad, you know, poor thing,” said Stephen. “D-don’t you consider she’s mad, Colin?”
    â€œStark ravers,” said Colin. “Where’s Mike?”
    â€œTalking to Giggle about toy trains, I think. He’s better out of this.”
    â€œLet’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?”
    â€œBite our nails?” suggested Patch.
    â€œPut a nail in Uncle G.’s coffin,” said Henry viciously.
    â€œNailing our colours to the mast?”
    â€œI know,” said Frid. “We’ll do Jael and Sisera.”
    â€œWhat did they d-do?” asked Stephen.
    â€œSomething with a nail. What was it, Robin?”
    â€œDidn’t Jael hammer a nail through Sisera’s head?”
    â€œThat’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.
    â€œI’ll be Jael,” said Frid, “and Henry can be Sisera and the twins guards and Robin a faithful slave.”
    â€œWhat am I?” demanded Patch, putting on Lord Wutherwood’s bowler.
    â€œAnother 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!”
    â€œDid Jael make love to Sisera,” asked Colin, “before he slew her?”
    â€œJael’s the female,” said Stephen.
    â€œOh. Give me that ghastly scarf, will you. Is it Uncle G.’s?”
    â€œYes. I want it for a loin cloth.”
    â€œI’m going to be a Circassian slave,” said Patch.
    â€œThis is most frightfully bogus,” said Henry, taking two yachting caps out of the wardrobe. “I can’t tell you how much I object to cavorting in front of these repellent people. You could use yachting caps as breast-plates, Robin. There’s some string.”
    â€œThank you. Aren’t you going to dress up, Henry?”
    Henry hung a pair of field-glasses round his neck. “I shall play it modern,” he muttered. “Colonel Sisera Blimp.” He drew a pair of fur-lined motoring gloves over his hands.
    Frid came back with a long silver-plated skewer.
    â€œBe careful how you muck about my head with that thing,” said Henry.
    â€œI want a hammer.”
    â€œUse your boot. Let’s get it over.”
    â€œIn you go, Robin and Patch. Take that rug and hold it like a tent. You too, twins. Say how beautiful I am,” ordered Frid, “and wonder if the day has been Sisera’s.”
    Robin, Patch and the twins entered the drawing-room unnoticed. Their audience was sitting with its back to the door.
    â€œWe’ve begun,” said Patch loudly. “I wonder how the battle went. Dost thou know if the day is Sisera’s?”
    â€œNay,” said Stephen.
    â€œDost thou?”
    â€œNay,” said Colin.
    â€œAnd thou?” continued Patch, irritably, to Robin.
    â€œNay, I wot not,” said Robin and she added hurriedly: “How beautiful Jael is!”
    â€œShe is like the new-blown moon,” agreed Patch.
    â€œLo,” said Colin, “here she comes.”
    â€œHow beautiful she is!” said Stephen.
    Frid made an entrance. She had