The Affair of the Mutilated Mink by James Anderson Page A

relieved she was. She'd been behaving extremely childishly - not at all like a mature young woman with two prospective fiancés under her roof. So, back to her room quickly, before he returned.
    But, she wondered, returned from where?
    He hadn't just gone to the bathroom. It had a fanlight over the door and the light was out.
    She looked round the room again and took in the fact that the bed had not been disturbed and that a pair of pyjamas were folded on the counterpane. It must be nearly forty minutes now since she'd seen him come in here, and it seemed he must have left again almost immediately. Perhaps he'd gone to talk to somebody. Haggermeir - about the script for the film, say?
    Then Gerry saw something else. On the bedside table was a glass. And in it was a set of false teeth.
    She pondered. Surely no one would go to talk to somebody and leave his false teeth behind. He might have gone to the library to get a book. But he'd never have stayed all this time. So - where was he?
    Gerry thought hard. She didn't trust Arlington Gilbert, and she found herself consumed by an intense urge to know just what he was doing. For Alderley contained many valuable things. The burglar alarm was out of action. And if Gilbert was light-fingered, tonight would present a fine opportunity for him to do some thieving, fake a forced entry and put the robbery down to some mythical burglar.
    Gerry knew she had to try and find out what he was up to.
    Hastily she returned to her room, donned a woollen dressing-gown, wiped her face free of make-up, put a flashlight in her pocket, and left again. She was still carrying the knife, which she intended to return to the kitchen. This time she turned left, went to the main stairs and started down. It was quite dark, but she didn't turn the lights on, just flicked her torch on and off occasionally. She knew the house intimately. Gilbert didn't. So the darkness would give her a big advantage. Besides, she didn't want to risk being seen herself, apparently spying on a guest.
    It was just as she reached the bottom of the stairs that she heard the sound.
    She couldn't be sure exactly what it was, for it was muffled. But she knew where it came from.
    Her father's study.
    Gerry stared towards the study door, which led directly off the hall. She felt a prickling up and down her spine, which had nothing to do with the cold.
    What on earth could he want in there? Her father kept no valuables in the study. Only a few pounds in a cash box, family and estate papers, account books, correspondence. Of course, Gilbert might not know that.
    Well, there could be no innocent reason for him - or anyone else — being in there. So there was no cause now for concealment.
    Gerry marched to the study, paused for a moment, threw open the door and reached for the light switch just inside. She pressed.
    But the room remained in darkness.
    Only then did it occur to her that with the alarm out of action a real burglar could have got in. Her heart gave a lurch. But she'd shot her bolt. In a voice that quavered only slightly, she said:
    Who's in here?'
    At that second a thin beam of light from a flashlight pierced the darkness, hitting her full in the eyes.
    Gerry groped frantically for her own flashlight. But before she could get it from her pocket she was aware that someone was coming towards her.
    With a great effort she held her ground. In her right hand she was still gripping the carving knife. She raised it, holding it out in front of her like a sword, and said loudly, 'Keep back. I've got a knife.'
    With her other hand she at last managed to get out her flashlight. She was fumbling desperately to switch it on, when it was wrenched from her grasp and fell to the floor.
    Now very frightened indeed, Gerry slashed with the knife. She felt the blade make contact with something and heard the man give an exclamation of pain. But he drew back only momentarily, and the next instant he'd grabbed her wrist, forcing her to drop the knife.