Murder Goes Mumming Read Online Free PDF Page B

given him anything to feed his face with, asked her what was so funny.
    “I was just wondering what Ludovic would say if I told him to haul up a chair while I cut him a piece of pie.”
    “Jenny love, have I happened to mention lately that I adore you?”
    “It’s always nice to be reminded.”
    “Er—that chap Roy. Is he …?”
    “Madoc, you surely don’t think you’ve caught me on the rebound? Yes, he’s the one, but don’t bother poking him in the jaw on my account. Feel free to do it on your own if you care to, of course. I’ll bet you once fell for a girl like Val.”
    “How did you know?”
    “Because you looked at her the same way I’ve been feeling about Roy. Relieved and puzzled.”
    This time they laughed together. May demanded to know why.
    “Come on, you two, no private jokes. What’s so funny?”
    “Nothing much,” Janet told her composedly. “We’re simply enjoying ourselves. What’s in this punch? It smells divine.”
    “Heavens, child, don’t call it punch or the water kelpies will get you. That’s the wassail and I wish Granny would get a move on because my tongue’s hanging out. We don’t dare take a swallow till Squire fires the starting pistol. Everybody got some? Watch it, Cyril. Only one to a customer.”
    “Then why don’t we just hand him the bowl?” quipped Herbert. “Ah, here’s Ludovic. Where is she, Lewd?”
    “Mrs. Condrycke regrets that she is unable to join the party,” the butler reported.
    “Why? She’s not sick is she?” asked Babs.
    “No, madam, Mrs. Condrycke has misplaced her dentures and does not care to appear without them.”
    “Oh, poor Granny!”
    But Babs couldn’t help laughing and neither could anybody else. At last Squire wiped his eyes on a monogrammed linen handkerchief and said, “Then take one up to her, Ludovic, and we’ll toast her in absentia. Ready, everyone? To Granny, and a speedy recovery.”
    “Not too speedy,” said Lawrence. “At least for the moment we can be reasonably sure her bark is worse than her bite.”
    But he didn’t say it loudly and hardly anyone heard him except Madoc Rhys, who began to wonder about Granny.
    There were any number of other toasts. Either each was funnier than the one before or else the wassail was pretty strong. Janet suspected the latter and drank her toasts in the tiniest possible sips. Madoc nursed his along, too, but nobody else was showing much restraint. Even Aunt Adelaide had risen from her swoon in time to join in the wassail and was swigging away with the best of them. All of a sudden, she grabbed Clara by the arm and cried, “Hark!”
    “Is it out there?” cried Cyril in delight.
    “It’s coming! I can feel it.”
    “Draw the curtains, quick.”
    Everybody rushed to pull aside the heavy draperies that had been drawn close to keep out the drafts from the large front windows.
    “What’s happening?” Janet asked Clara. “I don’t see anything.”
    “Wait. It’s coming. Aunt Addie always knows.”
    “Look!” shouted Val. “There it is.”
    Janet caught her breath. Not having grown up along the coast, she’d never seen a fire ship, although tales of these seagoing specters were rife in New Brunswick waters. But she’d heard tales enough, and she knew at once what she was seeing now. The Phantom Ship of Bay Chaleur was no fairy tale. How silently it came; how swiftly; how terrifying its eerie glow. She could see flames licking at the shrouds, yet each mast and spar stood out clearly against the snow-covered rocks that ringed the bay for an instant before it vanished.
    “I can’t believe it,” she murmured.
    “You’re in luck, Janet,” Squire told her jovially. “Some people live out their whole lives around the Bay Chaleur and never once set eyes on the Phantom Ship. Some say it’s the ghost of a vessel called the John Craig, which was wrecked in a gale sometime during the eighteenth century. Some claim it’s a French ship, burned to keep it from falling into