The Water-Man

Chapter 5--Agatha Dalton

Agatha fiddled with the pages of her novel as she read, in an attempt to maintain her focus. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked away, but the sound was no longer comforting. Any amount of consistent noise could hide the approach of a wandering vagrant—or a dangerous criminal.

No one in the room spoke or made eye contact. On the other side of the wide Persian rug covering the floor, Lady Dalton sat stiff as a poker, completely absorbed in the contents of her embroidery hoop. Never mind that she had to pick out every third stitch—she, whose hand was always so steady—she sewed as if her life depended on it.

Agatha chanced to pry her eyes from the book and actually look toward the corner where Thomas sat—

He was no longer there.

Agatha clapped her book shut with both hands.

Lady Dalton cried out in pain and raised a finger before her face, frowning at her daughter as if she were to blame for the mishap—indeed, for all the mishaps. Not daring to perform any action so vulgar as sticking the injured digit in her mouth, Lady Dalton frowned further still as she pulled out her clean-white handkerchief to wipe off the bead of blood forming on her fingertip.

Lady Dalton sighed heavily over the state of her kerchief, not to mention her normally-flawless skin. "Inconsiderate!" She grumbled. "Now look what you've made me—"

"Where is Tom?" Agatha wasn't much interested in hearing out an accusation against her for something she very obviously did not do.

"Don't try to change the subject, Agatha Christine!"

A figure appeared in the doorway. "What's this about me?"

"Tom!" Agatha burst from her seat and fairly threw herself at her brother. The more she clung to his arms, the faster she could leave behind the terrible images of him lying somewhere with his head bashed in or his throat cut. "I was so worried about you! Where did you go?"

He squinted at her in confusion. "What do you mean? I only went for a walk around the grounds."

"Without telling anybody?" Lady Dalton rose from her chair with considerably more dignity than her daughter. "Thomas, there are criminals out there!"

Lord Dalton emerged through the dining room door at last, looking much more worn now than ever before. He glanced at each face before him.

"Oh, wonderful," he said in a dull voice. "You are all here." He directed his gaze toward his children. "Have a seat, Agatha, Thomas; there is something important you must know."

Lady Dalton moved forward to grasp her husband's arm. "Are we leaving Afton-By-The-Sea?"

Both siblings protested, "No!"

Lord Dalton shook his head. "No, the constable has asked that we remain here until the valuables are found and the thieves are dealt with. We will stay—but there is one thing I must ask of you all." He became very stern once more. "I have just been telling the servants that I am issuing a curfew for everyone in this house."

"Curfew?" protested Thomas.

"Everyone?" echoed Agatha.

Lord Dalton nodded. "All outings must end at ten o'clock. The servants will report to Mason where they intend to go and when they intend to return, so that we know where they are, and you two," he glanced between his children, "will report to Mother and I."

"Ten o'clock!" Tom grumbled. "That's not fair!"

Lord Dalton laced his fingers through those of his wife. "Only until the crime is solved; it would be safer that way."