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As if on cue, the glass started to move. It trembled and bumped across the table until it drew to a stop before the YES square.
“Yes what?” Mark studied Madame closely and frowned at the spot on the ceiling that seemed to have captured her interest.
“Be quiet when Madame is working,” Miss Hepplethwaite chided. Mark merely looked blithely back at her and lifted his brows questioningly.
The glass started to move again.
H-I-S-I-N-D-A-N-G-E-R.
At first, the words came through hesitantly but, by the end of the statement the small round goblet moved with convincing force. Mark considered the circle and the lettering on the board. From his position it was impossible to tell if anyone was pushing the glass on purpose. He studied the fingertips around his carefully.
“Who is H? Tell us?” Babette snapped impatiently.
“Not this again,” Tuppence sighed. “I tell you right now that if this doesn’t start to come up with proper answers that make sense to us all, and then I am going to stop. We want no more vague warnings, hints or nonsense because it is wasting everyone’s time.”
“Quite right,” Mr Bentwhistle’s fervent response was accompanied by firm nods and murmurs of agreement from practically everyone presence; all except for Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite.
H-I-S-I-N-D-A-N-G-E-R.
“This is ridiculous. I vote that we stop now,” Beatrice sighed but didn’t remove her finger from the glass.
“Does anyone have some paper?”
Beatrice left the table for a moment and returned with some pink notepaper and a pencil, which she gave to Babette. “I don’t mind writing the letters if you want me to, I just thought that as you did it last time -”
“No, that’s fine, I don’t mind at all,” Babette replied. “Although I won’t bother writing this nonsense down.”
“I will not have threats issued through the pretext of this meeting. Threatening someone so vaguely is a random act of cowardice that is completely unacceptable, and I am speaking on behalf of the constabulary now,” Mark warned. He stared at each person in turn and was aware that the only people who turned their gazes away from the pointed warning in his eyes were Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite.
The glass began to move again.
H-A-R-R-I-E-T-T.
“What about Harriett?” Mark snapped.
Harriett felt vaguely sick at the sight of her name written so boldly on the pale pink notepaper. She wondered now whether Minerva’s drink had been meant for her, and the tea Mr Montague had drunk had been meant to be shared with her too. But how did the killer know that Harriett had intended to visit Hugo today? It had been a spur of the moment visit that had been prompted by the sight of Mark in Great Tipton with the mystery woman.
“Stop this right now,” she demanded, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of temper and fear.
“It’s alright, Harriett,” Mark soothed. “Everything will be alright. It would be a foolhardy person indeed who is prepared to threaten the future wife of a Detective Inspector.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mark ignored the chorus of startled gasps from everyone around the table, and carefully held her hand. He gave it a squeeze that was hidden by the tender gesture of possessiveness. With his head so close to hers, he tried to convey his silent plea for her to keep quiet and go along with him. She seemed to pick up on his intentions because she merely stared back at him with a strange smile on her face and didn’t utter a word.
“It would be a very stupid killer indeed who dared actually go so far as to harm you, Harriett, of all people. They would have the might of the Great Tipton Constabulary down on their heads so quickly that they wouldn’t know which way was up.”
“You are getting married?” Henrietta gasped and stared at Mark, firstly with suspicion, then with surprised awe. “Oh, merciful heavens, you are!” She gasped and launched herself out of the chair toward Harriett, who found herself enveloped in a fragrant cloud of green organza and a strong scent of lily of the valley.
“Welcome to the family, Harriett,” she gushed. “We have all been waiting for the day that Mark would come to his senses and settle down. Goodness gracious me, I have disturbed the proceedings, haven’t I?” Completely unrepentant, she sat back down with a wide smile.
“Harriett, you never said,” Constance accused, with a look of mock sternness on her face.
Slightly stunned, Harriett could only smile weakly at her friends and felt the worst kind of fraudster for not putting a stop to Mark’s scheme right there and then. She knew that he only wanted to protect her. The clear warning he had given to whoever was moving the glass was plain to see, but should she go along with it? She couldn’t deny the tiny thrill of delight that had swept through her at his declaration that they were to wed.
Her thoughts immediately turned to the woman at the tea shop he had been with. She wondered how he planned to get himself out of the mess he had just created. She could explain to Babette, and most probably her friends too, that Mark had been trying to protect her from being the murderer’s third victim. However, she could only hope that she could stem the tide of good wishes before the gossips ran rife with the news. She glanced across the table at the avid stares of Misses Haversham and Smethwick, and inwardly groaned - too late. The gossips already had their juicy news and, from the looks on their faces, were just itching to get out into the village to spread it far and wide.
She glanced hesitantly at Mark. Their eyes met and held for several long moments, but she could see nothing in his steady regard other than calm reassurance. He had no doubts about what he had just done; no qualms about encouraging such falsehood, and no hesitation in appointing himself as her protector. She didn’t know whether to be shocked, horrified, or thrilled to pieces.
