|
"You're a cynic, Evie," said John, laughing. "Where's tea `
`
to-day--inside or out?" `
`
`
`
"Out. Too fine a day to be cooped up in the house." `
`
`
`
"Come on then, you've done enough gardening for to-day. 'The `
`
labourer is worthy of his hire', you know. Come and be `
`
refreshed." `
`
`
`
"Well," said Miss Howard, drawing off her gardening gloves, "I'm `
`
inclined to agree with you." `
`
`
`
She led the way round the house to where tea was spread under the `
`
shade of a large sycamore. `
`
`
`
A figure rose from one of the basket chairs, and came a few steps `
`
to meet us. `
`
`
`
"My wife, Hastings," said John. `
`
`
`
I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, `
`
slender form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense `
`
of slumbering fire that seemed to find expression only in those `
`
wonderful tawny eyes of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any `
`
other woman's that I have ever known; the intense power of `
`
stillness she possessed, which nevertheless conveyed the `
`
impression of a wild untamed spirit in an exquisitely civilised `
`
body--all these things are burnt into my memory. I shall never `
`
forget them. `
`
`
`
She greeted me with a few words of pleasant welcome in a low `
`
clear voice, and I sank into a basket chair feeling distinctly `
`
glad that I had accepted John's invitation. Mrs. Cavendish gave `
`
me some tea, and her few quiet remarks heightened my first `
`
impression of her as a thoroughly fascinating woman. An `
`
appreciative listener is always stimulating, and I described, in `
`
a humorous manner, certain incidents of my Convalescent Home, in `
`
a way which, I flatter myself, greatly amused my hostess. John, `
`
of course, good fellow though he is, could hardly be called a `
`
brilliant conversationalist. `
`
`
`
At that moment a well remembered voice floated through the open `
`
French window near at hand: `
`
`
`
"Then you'll write to the Princess after tea, Alfred? I'll write `
`
to Lady Tadminster for the second day, myself. Or shall we wait `
`
until we hear from the Princess? In case of a refusal, Lady `
`
Tadminster might open it the first day, and Mrs. Crosbie the `
`
second. Then there's the Duchess--about the school fete." `
`
`
`
There was the murmur of a man's voice, and then Mrs. Inglethorp's `
`
rose in reply: `
`
`
`
"Yes, certainly. After tea will do quite well. You are so `
`
thoughtful, Alfred dear." `
`
`
`
The French window swung open a little wider, and a handsome `
`
white-haired old lady, with a somewhat masterful cast of `
`
features, stepped out of it on to the lawn. A man followed her, `
`
a suggestion of deference in his manner. `
`
`
`
Mrs. Inglethorp greeted me with effusion. `
`
`
`
"Why, if it isn't too delightful to see you again, Mr. Hastings, `
`
after all these years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings--my `
`
husband." `
`
`
`
I looked with some curiosity at "Alfred darling". He certainly `
`
struck a rather alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting `
`
to his beard. It was one of the longest and blackest I have ever `
`
seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and had a curious `
`
impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural `
`
on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His `
`
voice was rather deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in `
`
mine and said: `
`
`
`
"This is a pleasure, Mr. Hastings." Then, turning to his wife: `
`
"Emily dearest, I think that cushion is a little damp." `
`
`
`
She beamed fondly on him, as he substituted another with every `
`
demonstration of the tenderest care. Strange infatuation of an `
`
otherwise sensible woman! `
`
`
`
With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and `
`
veiled hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss `
`
Howard, in particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings. `
`
Mrs. Inglethorp, however, seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her `
`
volubility, which I remembered of old, had lost nothing in the `
`
intervening years, and she poured out a steady flood of `
`
conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar `
`
which she was organizing and which was to take place shortly. `
`
Occasionally she referred to her husband over a question of days `
`
or dates. His watchful and attentive manner never varied. From `
`
the very first I took a firm and rooted dislike to him, and I `
`
flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly shrewd. `
`
`
`
Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about `
`
letters to Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his `
`
painstaking voice: `
`
`
`
"Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?" `
`
`
`
"No, before the war I was in Lloyd's." `
`
`
`
"And you will return there after it is over?" `
`
`
`
"Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether." `
`
`
`
Mary Cavendish leant forward. `
`
`
`
"What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just `
`
consult your inclination?" `
`
`
`
"Well, that depends." `
`
`
`
"No secret hobby?" she asked. "Tell me--you're drawn to `
`
something? Every one is--usually something absurd." `
`
`
`
"You'll laugh at me." `
`
`
`
She smiled. `
`
`
`
"Perhaps." `
`
`
`
"Well, I've always had a secret hankering to be a detective!" `
`
`
`
"The real thing--Scotland Yard? Or Sherlock Holmes?" `
`
`
`
"Oh, Sherlock Holmes by all means. But really, seriously, I am `
`
awfully drawn to it. I came across a man in Belgium once, a very `
`
famous detective, and he quite inflamed me. He was a marvellous `
`
little fellow. He used to say that all good detective work was a `
`
mere matter of method. My system is based on his--though of `
`
course I have progressed rather further. He was a funny little `
`
man, a great dandy, but wonderfully clever." `
`
`
`
"Like a good detective story myself," remarked Miss Howard. `
`
"Lots of nonsense written, though. Criminal discovered in last `
`
chapter. Every one dumbfounded. Real crime--you'd know at `
`
once." `
`
`
`
"There have been a great number of undiscovered crimes," I `
`
argued. `
`
`
`
"Don't mean the police, but the people that are right in it. The `
`
family. You couldn't really hoodwink them. They'd know." `
`
`
`
"Then," I said, much amused, "you think that if you were mixed up `
`
in a crime, say a murder, you'd be able to spot the murderer `
`
right off?" `
`
`
`
"Of course I should. Mightn't be able to prove it to a pack of `
`
lawyers. But I'm certain I'd know. I'd feel it in my fingertips `
`
if he came near me." `
`
`
`
"It might be a 'she,' " I suggested. `
`
`
`
"Might. But murder's a violent crime. Associate it more with a `
`
man." `
`
`
`
"Not in a case of poisoning." Mrs. Cavendish's clear voice `
`
startled me. "Dr. Bauerstein was saying yesterday that, owing to `
`
the general ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the `
`
medical profession, there were probably countless cases of `
`
poisoning quite unsuspected." `
`
`
`
"Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp. `
`
"It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, `
`
there's Cynthia!" `
`
`
`
A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn. `
`
`
`
"Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings--Miss `
`
Murdoch." `
`
`
`
Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life `
`
and vigour. She tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I `
`
admired the great loose waves of her auburn hair, and the `
`
smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim her `
`
tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty. `
`
`
`
She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed `
`
her a plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me. `
`
`
`
"Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer." `
`
`
`
I dropped down obediently. `
`
`
`
"You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?" `
`
`
`
She nodded. `
`
`
`
"For my sins." `
`
`
`
"Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling. `
`
`
`
"I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity. `
`
`
`
"I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is `
`
terrified of 'Sisters'." `
`
`
`
|