Strange Capers by Joan Smith Page A

research in the library,” he answered.
    “That’s odd. Miss Pethel has never showed the least interest in the library in the five years she’s been here,” Rachel answered, mainly for the purpose of showing him he should be calling me Miss Pethel.
    “I hope to diversify her interests in more than one direction. How are the fingers, Connie?” he asked, inventing a completely new name for me. I felt ill at ease, having become a pawn between the feuding cousins.
    “Not broken after all,” I assured him, while Rachel lifted her brows and gave me her displeased look.
    “I hear you have a book for me, Cousin” was Aiglon’s next line of talk.
    “No, no, it’s a musty old thing, and of no particular interest,” Rachel replied.
    “Since it pried loose a few shillings from your reticule, I am most curious to see it,” he responded bluntly.
    But Rachel turned the conversation to Aiglon’s mother and to other relatives who were known to me only by name. When dessert was served, Rachel accepted a plate of bread pudding, but Aiglon, despite having only nibbled at his dinner, was too full to indulge, and so was I. We ladies soon left him to his port and retired to the saloon.
    “Since despite my request you saw fit to tell Aiglon about that book I bought, I’d best go and get it,” Rachel said. She walked out the door, leaving me alone to ponder the unsettling currents that had formed since Aiglon’s arrival. Most of all I disliked being in Rachel’s black book. We had been friends for five years, and Aiglon would only be here a short while. I felt I owed her my allegiance, and determined that when she came down with the book I would try to mend the rent in our friendship. I waited for ten minutes, wondering what was taking her so long. For that matter, why had she gone to fetch the book herself instead of sending Willard? She just wanted to get away from me, that’s all. And she hadn’t told me not to tell Aiglon about the book. After waiting a few minutes more, I decided to wait for her in the library. I could begin looking for documents pertinent to the restoration of the chapel.
    As I entered the library I was surprised to see that the lamps were already lit, for at Thornbury a lamp isn’t generally lit till it is used. I was even more surprised to see Rachel crouching near a bottom shelf, half hidden behind the table. She must have come down by the back stairs to avoid being seen by me.
    “Oh, there you are!” I exclaimed. “Rachel, I don’t know why you’ve taken it into your head to think I’m on Aiglon’s side. The way you spoke at dinner made me feel quite uncomfortable.”
    “The way I spoke at dinner, Constance, was for your own good. Before Aiglon came I tipped you the clue that he is a womanizer. I am more determined than ever that he must leave, and the sooner the better.”
    “But you can’t make him go now. He didn’t kill Kirkwell, so there’s no way to make him leave his own house.”
    She slammed a book on the table. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Here’s the demmed book that you’re so determined he should have. I want it made perfectly clear, Constance, that the library door is to be left open the entire time you are in here. Willard will be slouching about in the hail. If you need help, call him.”
    “Why should I need help?”
    “Why do you think?” she asked, piercing me with one of her sharp stares. “Don’t make the immature mistake of thinking he means to marry you. I can assure you it is the last thing in his mind.”
    “And I can assure you it is the last thing in mine!” I replied, equally sharply.
    She whisked out the door, and I turned to pick up the book. That’s when I noticed it wasn’t the book she had bought in Folkestone at all. It was of the same size and color, but I remembered perfectly well the title of that other book. An Anecdotal History of Folkestone and Environs, it was called. This one was entitled Ancient Tales of the