The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) by Clara Benson

quarter. It happened while he was out riding in his own park, and we do not yet know how the assailant or assailants managed to get in, for the boundary walls are very high and impossible to climb over.’
    ‘Goodness,’ said Angela. ‘That sounds rather to me as though there were a traitor on the inside.’
    Everich bowed his head.
    ‘It pains me to doubt the loyalty of His Highness’s servants, but I fear you may be right,’ he said. ‘The Grand Duke’s cousin, Count Paul of Vorgorod, has been distraught at the whole affair, and has personally launched an investigation into the tragedy, but that is of little use after the fact. We can do nothing but watch and hope. In the meantime, His Excellency has sent me here to watch over Her Highness and ensure that she remains safe from harm. Now, Your Highness, if you are quite finished, we had better return to the school.’
    The two of them left, Everich with another smart bow, and Angela and Barbara were left to order their own lunch. Angela wondered idly why the head of Moranian Intelligence had thought it a good idea to take Irina out of school when she was believed to be in such danger, but supposed that he must have taken his own precautions about which she knew nothing. At any rate, here was an expert in Moranian matters, and if anyone was in a position to spot the threat to the Princess, it was he.

TEN
    That evening, Angela could not shake off the feeling that something was about to happen. Why she should feel so she did not know, for there were plenty of precautions in place. Even if the mysterious man in the barn were loitering with malicious intent, Miss Fazackerley was away at present and unable to admit him into the school. Mr. Everich was here now, and was presumably best placed to know how to protect the Princess—and even if he had not arrived so quickly, Irina was being watched at all times, and her bed had been moved to Miss Bell’s room, where she remained safely under lock and key at night. No—there was no particular reason to scent danger, and yet Angela did. Perhaps she had been unconsciously influenced by Mr. Hesketh and Henry Jameson, who had the same unexplained feeling that something was wrong. But they were experienced Intelligence men, and if they sensed trouble, then the feeling was not to be taken lightly, and so Angela was unwilling to dismiss her fears.
    She decided to go and have a word with William, and wandered out into the Quad, for that was the quickest way to the building which housed the school charabanc, used to collect girls from the station, and one or two other vehicles. William was bunking in there with the deaf old driver, who had formerly been a coachman and had adapted to motorization without a murmur—indeed, some wag had pointed out that given the way he drove, he had obviously not noticed that someone had taken the horses away. As Angela passed the fountain, she saw Barbara’s friends Violet and Florrie sitting together on one of the stone benches. Violet had her head buried in a book, while Florrie was reading a letter. Angela waved, but neither of them saw her.
    William was not in the coach-house, but she found him at the back of the building, rubbing an oily rag over something that looked like it might be a part from the Bentley, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He removed the cigarette at once when he saw her, but Angela was not thinking about that and glanced at the part.
    ‘Will it go without that?’ she said. ‘If not, I suggest you put it back in. I don’t know why, but I don’t quite like the idea of the car’s being out of action at the moment.’
    ‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘It won’t take a minute to With it. Are we expecting trouble, ma’am?’
    ‘Yes—no—I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing I can put my finger on, and I dare say nobody wants me to meddle in the thing now that the professionals presumably have everything in hand, but obviously given