Death in the Castle Read Online Free PDF Page A

face.
    “Just Kate.” She drew back and then stepped ahead of him. “This way, please, Mr. Blayne. They are waiting for you in the great hall.”
    She went ahead of him through passages so narrow that there was no possibility of their walking side by side until she came to the small door which led into the great hall. There she was delayed for a moment because the latch was rusty and would not turn. He caught up with her.
    “Please—”
    She refused to yield. “You don’t know the latch as well as I do. It’ll give in a minute.”
    He waited for the minute and then took her by the shoulders and set her firmly aside. She caught her breath in surprise and said nothing. Let him! He wouldn’t be able to move the latch, but he’d have to find out for himself, cocksure as he was. To her chagrin the willful latch yielded at once and the door swung open. Inside the hall the four young men, who had long since given up their search, were sitting in the carved oaken chairs. At sight of him they made cries more of welcome than surprise.
    “Here’s John Preston Blayne at last!”
    “And we thought you were lost!”
    Kate broke across their exclamations. “I don’t think you’ve been looking for him at all.”
    The youngest one grinned clean across his face. “We didn’t need to, did we? He always turns up, and in the best of company.”
    John Blayne laughed.
    “We’ve brought the blueprints and are ready to get to work, John, just as soon as you say the word.” To prove it, the young man unrolled a set of papers he had been holding and spread them out flat on the table.
    “Work!” Kate exclaimed. “Whatever do they mean?” Startled, she looked from the sheets of blue paper to Mr. Blayne, then to each of the four young men in turn, all of them looking so out of place in the great hall of the castle.
    “Lay off, fellows,” John Blayne said good-naturedly. “I don’t blame Miss Wells for being shocked. You’re premature. Things aren’t settled yet, not by a long shot. Fold up your tents now and steal away until tomorrow. You have rooms at the village inn.”
    Levity was blown away like mist before a gale. In spite of his casual air, John Blayne’s voice held authority. The young men looked at one another. The eldest coughed and cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, John, it’s lucky you turned up at this moment. I’m glad nothing is settled. The job is impossible.”
    John Blayne looked from one of his men to another and Kate saw his face harden. Tough, was he? Or just used to getting his own way?
    “Impossible?” he said quietly. “I don’t recognize the word.”
    “The beams are too weak,” one young man urged.
    Kate burst into the argument. “Weak, are they? You’d be weak, if you’d been put up a thousand years ago. Weak! They’re as solid as the Bank of England.”
    John Blayne threw her a look, amused again and gay. “Thank you, Miss Wells. And you, fellows—I know the castle isn’t Buckingham or Windsor, it’s too old. That’s the beauty of it, and that’s why we must take it down, stone by stone—”
    They went into chorus again. “Part of it is brick”—“Those bricks will crumble to dust”—“We’re lucky if we can transport half of them.”
    He cut them short. “You underestimate English workmanship!”
    The argument grew hot. The nameless young men—and Kate was sure they were nameless because they looked so much alike, with their short noses and strong chins and similar haircuts—rushed into the deepening fray.
    “You’ve done a lot of crazy things, John, but this is the craziest.”
    “Remember that Japanese temple you bought and took to New York? Still lying in the warehouse—even the Met wouldn’t have it—nobody dares to tackle putting it together again. Why don’t you use that for a museum?”
    “And that painting you said had to be restored—”
    John Blayne stood rock firm, smiling, enjoying the onslaught, waiting until they were out of