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"I don't wonder. Sisters _are_, you know, Mr. Hastings. They `
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simp--ly _are_! You've no idea! But I'm not a nurse, thank heaven, `
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I work in the dispensary." `
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"How many people do you poison?" I asked, smiling. `
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Cynthia smiled too. `
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"Oh, hundreds!" she said. `
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"Cynthia," called Mrs. Inglethorp, "do you think you could write `
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a few notes for me?" `
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"Certainly, Aunt Emily." `
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She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me `
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that her position was a dependent one, and that Mrs. Inglethorp, `
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kind as she might be in the main, did not allow her to forget it. `
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My hostess turned to me. `
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"John will show you your room. Supper is at half-past seven. We `
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have given up late dinner for some time now. Lady Tadminster, `
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our Member's wife--she was the late Lord Abbotsbury's `
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daughter--does the same. She agrees with me that one must set an `
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example of economy. We are quite a war household; nothing is `
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wasted here--every scrap of waste paper, even, is saved and sent `
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away in sacks." `
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I expressed my appreciation, and John took me into the house and `
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up the broad staircase, which forked right and left half-way to `
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different wings of the building. My room was in the left wing, `
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and looked out over the park. `
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John left me, and a few minutes later I saw him from my window `
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walking slowly across the grass arm in arm with Cynthia Murdoch. `
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I heard Mrs. Inglethorp call "Cynthia" impatiently, and the girl `
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started and ran back to the house. At the same moment, a man `
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stepped out from the shadow of a tree and walked slowly in the `
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same direction. He looked about forty, very dark with a `
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melancholy clean-shaven face. Some violent emotion seemed to be `
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mastering him. He looked up at my window as he passed, and I `
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recognized him, though he had changed much in the fifteen years `
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that had elapsed since we last met. It was John's younger `
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brother, Lawrence Cavendish. I wondered what it was that had `
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brought that singular expression to his face. `
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Then I dismissed him from my mind, and returned to the `
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contemplation of my own affairs. `
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The evening passed pleasantly enough; and I dreamed that night of `
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that enigmatical woman, Mary Cavendish. `
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The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and I was full of the `
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anticipation of a delightful visit. `
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I did not see Mrs. Cavendish until lunch-time, when she `
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volunteered to take me for a walk, and we spent a charming `
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afternoon roaming in the woods, returning to the house about `
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five. `
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As we entered the large hall, John beckoned us both into the `
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smoking-room. I saw at once by his face that something `
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disturbing had occurred. We followed him in, and he shut the `
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door after us. `
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"Look here, Mary, there's the deuce of a mess. Evie's had a row `
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with Alfred Inglethorp, and she's off." `
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"Evie? Off?" `
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John nodded gloomily. `
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"Yes; you see she went to the mater, and--Oh, here's Evie `
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herself." `
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Miss Howard entered. Her lips were set grimly together, and she `
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carried a small suit-case. She looked excited and determined, `
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and slightly on the defensive. `
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"At any rate," she burst out, "I've spoken my mind!" `
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"My dear Evelyn," cried Mrs. Cavendish, "this can't be true!" `
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Miss Howard nodded grimly. `
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"True enough! Afraid I said some things to Emily she won't forget `
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or forgive in a hurry. Don't mind if they've only sunk in a bit. `
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Probably water off a duck's back, though. I said right out: `
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'You're an old woman, Emily, and there's no fool like an old `
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fool. The man's twenty years younger than you, and don't you `
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fool yourself as to what he married you for. Money! Well, don't `
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let him have too much of it. Farmer Raikes has got a very pretty `
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young wife. Just ask your Alfred how much time he spends over `
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there.' She was very angry. Natural! I went on, 'I'm going to `
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warn you, whether you like it or not. That man would as soon `
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murder you in your bed as look at you. He's a bad lot. You can `
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say what you like to me, but remember what I've told you. He's a `
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bad lot!' " `
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"What did she say?" `
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Miss Howard made an extremely expressive grimace. `
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" 'Darling Alfred'--'dearest Alfred'--'wicked calumnies' `
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--'wicked lies'--'wicked woman'--to accuse her 'dear husband'! `
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The sooner I left her house the better. So I'm off." `
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"But not now?" `
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"This minute!" `
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For a moment we sat and stared at her. Finally John Cavendish, `
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finding his persuasions of no avail, went off to look up the `
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trains. His wife followed him, murmuring something about `
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persuading Mrs. Inglethorp to think better of it. `
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As she left the room, Miss Howard's face changed. She leant `
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towards me eagerly. `
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"Mr. Hastings, you're honest. I can trust you?" `
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I was a little startled. She laid her hand on my arm, and sank `
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her voice to a whisper. `
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"Look after her, Mr. Hastings. My poor Emily. They're a lot of `
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sharks--all of them. Oh, I know what I'm talking about. There `
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isn't one of them that's not hard up and trying to get money out `
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of her. I've protected her as much as I could. Now I'm out of `
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the way, they'll impose upon her." `
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"Of course, Miss Howard," I said, "I'll do everything I can, but `
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I'm sure you're excited and overwrought." `
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She interrupted me by slowly shaking her forefinger. `
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"Young man, trust me. I've lived in the world rather longer than `
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you have. All I ask you is to keep your eyes open. You'll see `
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what I mean." `
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The throb of the motor came through the open window, and Miss `
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Howard rose and moved to the door. John's voice sounded outside. `
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With her hand on the handle, she turned her head over her `
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shoulder, and beckoned to me. `
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"Above all, Mr. Hastings, watch that devil--her husband!" `
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There was no time for more. Miss Howard was swallowed up in an `
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eager chorus of protests and good-byes. The Inglethorps did not `
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appear. `
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As the motor drove away, Mrs. Cavendish suddenly detached herself `
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from the group, and moved across the drive to the lawn to meet a `
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tall bearded man who had been evidently making for the house. `
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The colour rose in her cheeks as she held out her hand to him. `
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"Who is that?" I asked sharply, for instinctively I distrusted `
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the man. `
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"That's Dr. Bauerstein," said John shortly. `
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"And who is Dr. Bauerstein?" `
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"He's staying in the village doing a rest cure, after a bad `
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nervous breakdown. He's a London specialist; a very clever `
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man--one of the greatest living experts on poisons, I believe." `
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"And he's a great friend of Mary's," put in Cynthia, the `
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irrepressible. `
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John Cavendish frowned and changed the subject. `
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"Come for a stroll, Hastings. This has been a most rotten `
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business. She always had a rough tongue, but there is no `
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stauncher friend in England than Evelyn Howard." `
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He took the path through the plantation, and we walked down to `
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the village through the woods which bordered one side of the `
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estate. `
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As we passed through one of the gates on our way home again, a `
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pretty young woman of gipsy type coming in the opposite direction `
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bowed and smiled. `
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"That's a pretty girl," I remarked appreciatively. `
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John's face hardened. `
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"That is Mrs. Raikes." `
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"The one that Miss Howard----" `
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"Exactly," said John, with rather unnecessary abruptness. `
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I thought of the white-haired old lady in the big house, and that `
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vivid wicked little face that had just smiled into ours, and a `
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vague chill of foreboding crept over me. I brushed it aside. `
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"Styles is really a glorious old place," I said to John. `
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