Greatly to Timothy's disgust, the inquest on Silas Kane's death contained no thrills. A verdict of death by misadventure was returned, a post-mortem examination having established the fact that Silas must have had a heart attack. His own doctor gave some highly technical evidence and annoyed Timothy by agreeing that, although an attack was unexpected, he would not go so far as to say that he was surprised that Silas should have had one. The excitement of his birthday-party, coupled with over-fatigue, might well have produced it.
Joseph Mansell and his son both corroborated the statement that Silas had been in the habit of working too hard, Joseph adding that in his opinion Silas' powers had been declining for the past few months.
Clement was a still more disappointing witness.
Questioned, he would not say that his cousin had been in failing health. He had not been a young man; things had certainly tired him. He had not discussed Silas' health with him; he had not noticed any particular signs of weariness or excitement in him on the night of his death.
No persuasions had availed to keep Timothy away from the inquest, but he professed himself disgusted with the result. When it was over Oscar Roberts took him and Miss Allison, who had been present in obedience to Emily's command, to refresh themselves with lemonade and ices before returning to Cliff House. He seemed to be considerably amused by Timothy. He allowed the boy to air his views, recommending him to get it off his chest once and for all, advice which Timothy followed, bitterly announcing his dissatisfaction with the methods of the Portlaw police.
"They jolly well ought to have found out what everybody was doing when Uncle Silas was killed," he said.
"They did," replied Patricia. "You know perfectly well they made all the proper inquiries."
Timothy snorted. "I don't call it making proper inquiries just to ask people where they were and not to try and prove they weren't there at all. Why, they didn't even ask Jim, and he was at the party."
"You unnatural viper!" said Patricia calmly. "Besides, what had Jim—I mean, your stepbrother—to gain by murdering his cousin?"
"I know, but—"
"The fact of the matter is, son, that you can't have a murder without motive," said Roberts.
"There were motives!" replied Timothy instantly. "Look at Clement! He's getting simply pots of money out of it."
Patricia removed the lemonade straw from her mouth to expostulate. "You definitely must not go about saying your Cousin Clement had a motive for murdering Mr. Kane!"
"He isn't my cousin. I'm a Harte," said Timothy loftily. "I'll bet Mr. Roberts thinks he had a pretty good motive."
"Sure I think it," agreed Roberts. "But I've a notion that if I were Mr. Clement Kane I wouldn't run the risk of bumping off an old man who had a valvular disease of the heart. Guess I'd wait a piece for Nature to do its work."
Timothy shook his head. "Not if you wanted his money absolutely at once."
"He didn't." said Patricia. "The Clement Kanes are quite well off."
Timothy was silenced for the moment, but the consumption of a large strawberry ice inspired him afresh.
"Well, what about the Mansells?" he demanded.
Patricia glanced round the teashop apprehensively. "For heaven's sake shut up!" she begged.
"Yes, but they had a motive. I know all about the Australian show, I'll bet Mr. Roberts—"
"No, no, sonny, you won't drag me into that!" interposed Roberts. "Next you'll be telling me I've got a motive. See here, now! This kind of talk isn't going big with Miss Allison at all. What do you say we drop it?"
Patricia looked at him. "I believe you're as bad as he is," she said.
"No, no," he assured her. "But when a man falls off a cliff edge, Miss Allison, folks just naturally get to wondering about it. You can't blame Timothy. It's kind of inevitable."
"But surely you don't think—"
"I don't know enough about the family to think anything," he said with a shade of reserve in his voice.
When Emily heard about the proceedings at the inquest she smiled grimly and said she had expected nothing else. Something in her tone impelled Clement, who had driven Patricia and Timothy back to Cliff House, to inquire a little sharply what she meant.
"If you don't know what I mean it won't hurt you," replied Emily.
Clement reddened. "Well, I certainly don't, Aunt. I should have thought it was obvious that Cousin Silas' death was due to the fog, coupled with one of his heart attacks."
She fixed him with one of her blank stares. "Pray, who said it was not?"
Timothy, scenting an ally, said: "I do."
Emily looked at him. "You do, do you? And why?"
"Well, partly because he was so frightfully rich, and partly because I had an instinct there was going to be a murder."
The word sounded ugly. Clement's eyes snapped behind his pince-nez; he said in an angry voice: "How dare you say such a thing? It seems to me you let your stupid imagination run away with you! I thought you were old enough to know better."
"Leave the boy alone," said Emily. "He's entitled to his opinion as much as you are to yours. So my son was murdered, was he, Timothy?"
"Well, I don't absolutely know he was," replied Timothy with a touch of caution, "but I do think it looks jolly suspicious. What's more, I'm pretty sure Mr. Roberts thinks so too."
"Roberts!" Clement exclaimed. "What has Roberts to do with it? You've no right to discuss this affair with a stranger! Really, I think it high time Jim came down and took you in hand!"
But Mr. James Kane, when he arrived, three days after Clement and Rosemary had taken up their residence at Cliff House, showed little disposition to take his stepbrother in hand. His energies were concentrated upon Miss Allison, who had had by that time such a surfeit of the Clement Kanes, Paul Mansell and Mr. Trevor Dermott that she greeted him with unfeigned pleasure. This circumstance led Mr. James Kane to leap to unwarrantable conclusions. He had the audacity to catch Miss Allison up in his arms and to kiss her, not once but several times. Miss Allison, apparently decided that it would be useless to struggle with anyone so large and muscular. She submitted to Mr. James Kane's rough handling, merely remarking as soon as she was able that she very much disliked people who grabbed ells when offered inches.
Mr. Kane only laughed, so Miss Allison, setting her hands against his chest and pushing hard, explained severely that her gladness at seeing him arose purely from boredom.
"My poor dear," said Mr. Kane lovingly.
"For goodness' sake let me go!" begged Miss Allison. "What on earth would anyone think if they saw us?"
"They'd think we were going to be married, and they'd be right," replied Mr. Kane.
"They'd be far more likely to think you were philandering with your great-aunt's companion," retorted Miss Allison.
"Vulgar little cat!" said Mr. Kane, tucking her hand in his arm. "Now that we've settled that, tell me what's been going on here."
"Nothing much. You saw pretty well what it was like at the funeral, didn't you?"
"General impression of piety, that's all. Who's got on your nerves? Rosemary?"
"No, your repulsive little brother. You'll have to sit on him. He will go about looking for clues and saying Mr. Kane was murdered."
Jim looked interested. "Really? What put that into his head?"
"The films he sees, of course. I do what I can to squash him, but Mrs. Kane encourages him, and so does Mr. Roberts—at least, I don't know that he actually encourages him, but I've got an uncomfortable feeling that he suspects Timothy's right."
"Half a shake!" Jim interposed. "Who is Roberts? Do I know him?"
"No, I shouldn't think so. He's the agent for the Australian firm which wants to do business with Kane and Mansell. Rather nice, and awfully decent to Timothy. They struck up an acquaintance after Mr. Kane's death. Timothy invites him here, and Clement dodges him when he comes."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Timothy, I hardly need say, has a theory that Mr. Roberts is on to something and Clement's afraid to meet him. Actually, I expect it's because Clement doesn't want to be badgered about the Australian business."
"Timothy seems to be doing what he can to liven things up," commented Jim. He had guided Miss Allison across the lawn towards a seat under a big elm tree and now invited her to sit down. Taking his place beside her, he said with an appraising look cast at her profile: "Come on, my love, tell me what's the matter."
She was silent for a moment. He possessed himself of her hand. "Let me remind you that the keynote to a successful marriage is Mutual Confidence."
She smiled at that. "I dare say. I think I've probably exaggerated things in my mind. It—it just seems to me that people are behaving rather abnormally. There's a certain atmosphere in the house—well, you'll see for yourself."
She refused to be more explicit, but there was much that she might have told her betrothed.
There was the attitude adopted by Emily. Emily hated Clement, yet when he had proposed moving to Cliff House immediately, she had not demurred. She had acquiesced, and since his arrival she had ceased to snap at him. Patricia had no fault to find with this, but when she saw Emily looking at Clement she knew that the implacable old lady resented his presence and would always resent it. But after her first outburst she had not spoken again of her dislike, nor had she uttered one word in criticism of Clement's wife. Only she watched them both, her face wooden in its impassivity.
Clement seemed to Miss Allison to be ill at ease, but she thought the new responsibilities resting on his shoulders might account for this. He was often irritable; he fidgeted, frowned, grew querulous over trifles, and looked more harassed than ever. He complained of his partners' stupidity once or twice; it was as though he invited Emily to comment on the firm's policy, perhaps to support him with her ruthless certainty.
Miss Allison saw him as a weak man, mistrusting his own judgment, needing the approval of a stronger character before he could be brought to make a decision.
It was plain that he could expect no help from Rosemary. Rosemary was passing through an emotional crisis. She told Patricia that she had reached a turning point in her life, and that it was tearing her in two. Patricia was uncharitable enough to suspect that she was revelling in the drama she had created, and received this piece of information with a marked lack of sympathy.
What sympathy she felt was for Clement and for Trevor Dermott, both helpless in the snare of Rosemary's beauty, but her pity for them was charged with contempt. She thought them fools to be slaves to Rosemary.
Yet in Trevor Dermott, whom she profoundly disliked, there was a quality which Rosemary might find disturbing if ever he awoke to a realisation of the part he was hereafter destined to play in her life. Miss Allison called him privately the Flamboyant Male but suspected that his flaunted masculinity was an integral part of him and no pose assumed to match his vigorous good looks and lusty body. Stupid he might be, but his hot brown eyes, lacking intelligence, held a spark of purpose. He was of the type that must snatch what it desires: it was too evident that he desired Rosemary, so delicately playing him on the end of her line.
"You can't go on living with a fellow like Kane, a fellow who's only half alive!" he said.
Rosemary looked at him thoughtfully. He supposed her to be comparing his splendid physique with Clement's thin, stooping frame. He did not preen himself, but he laughed, sure of his superiority. Actually no comparison was in her mind. He attracted her strongly; she was loath to let him go; but Clement, possessing his cousin's fortune, was beyond comparison.
She said seriously: "Clement needs me, Trevor."
It was true; she did not disguise from herself the fact that she needed Clement's money, but she began to feel rather holy. This was reflected in her face, uplifted to Dermott's. He said: "My God, and don't I need you? Are you going to sacrifice us both to a man who doesn't satisfy you, can't so much as start to understand you?"
She sighed. She saw herself immolated upon the altar of wifely duty, the victim of a tragic love affair.
That she saw herself gowned by Reville, wearing a long mournful rope of pearls, only made the vision more picturesque: it did not lessen its pathos. "It was just a beautiful dream, Trevor," she said, not very originally but with deep feeling.
"I don't dream," replied Dermott, grasping her arms above the elbows. "Will Clement let you divorce him?"
"No, never."
"He'll have to divorce you, then."
"But, Trevor, you don't understand!" Rosemary said, genuinely distressed. "You must realise how important it is for me to have money! It's no use blinking facts, and there's no doubt—I mean, I know myself so well!—that not having any money was what ruined Clement's and my life together. I've simply got to face it."
His grip on her arms tightened until it hurt her. He gave an uncertain laugh, his eyes searching hers for the reassurance he needed. "Pretty mercenary, aren't you?"
"You can call it that, if you like."
"I don't know what else to call it!"
"Of course I realise—I always have—that I'm a hateful person," Rosemary said. "I'm not trying to excuse myself; I was just made like that."
"You talk a lot of damned rubbish!" he said roughly. "Have you thought of what's going to happen if you decide to stay with that dried-up stick of a husband of yours?"
She made a slight effort to free herself, but his grip did not slacken. She was afraid her arms would be bruised by it, but the sense it gave her of his strength pleased her. "We can still see each other," she offered.
"Oh no, we can't!" he retorted. "I'm not a lapdog to be whistled up when you please. If you choose Clement and his blasted fortune, it's good-bye, my dear!"
He let her go as he spoke, so certain of his appeal for her, of what her ultimate decision must be, that he dared to utter this threat. His eyes glowed as they rested on her, but he would not touch her again, though his flesh ached for her. "Think it over!" he said. "I won't go on like this."
He saw her face troubled; a trick of the light seemed to show the fineness of the bones under the delicate skin. His voice thickened; he said: "Oh, my sweet—my lovely sweet! I'd be good to you. I'd give you everything. You know you love me!"
A gentle melancholy possessed her. Her eyes filled with tears. She said: "Yes, I do. It hurts me! But I must think of Clement. Please don't be unreasonable, Trevor. You don't know how dreadfully, dreadfully difficult it all is!"
A sense of frustration crept over him, but he still could not believe that he might lose her. He repeated: "You'll have to make up your mind once and for all. I mean it."
"Not now, Trevor!" she begged. "I can't. It's no use expecting me to. I just can't."
"No, not now, but this week. I'm going to London tomorrow. I shall be back on Saturday, and I shall want your answer then."
He had had no previous intention of returning to town, but he thought his absence might clinch the matter.
The mere contemplation of four days to be spent without sight of her made his heart faint within him: he could not believe that she might be able to bear them with equanimity.
Her mouth drooped a little, but she accepted the ultimatum without demurring. She would miss him very much, but she thought perhaps the temporary separation would be a good thing for him. If it could be avoided she did not want to lose him altogether; probably four days spent apart from her would chasten him enough to make him agree to her terms.
Most of this was told to that most discouraging of confidants, Patricia Allison. ("I can't imagine what it is about me that induces neurotic idiots like Rosemary to tell me their life stories!" Patricia said despairingly to Mr. James Kane.)
"What I can't bear," said Rosemary intensely, "is the thought that I've got to hurt Trevor. That's what I've got to face."
Miss Allison was feeling tired. She had left Emily in Ogle's jealous charge and was on the point of going to bed when Rosemary had waylaid her and dragged her off to her own room for a private conference.
"Well if that's all you've got to face, you're lucky," she said.
"Ah, but don't you see how much, much worse it is to hurt Trevor than to be hurt myself?" said Rosemary.
Miss Allison shook her head, stifling a yawn. "No."
Rosemary gave her one of her long critical looks. "I expect you're one of those lucky people who don't feel things very deeply," she said.
Miss Allison agreed. It was the easiest thing to do.
"I so terribly want your advice," Rosemary said earnestly. "I'm afraid Trevor may do something desperate."
"Well, I can't stop him," replied Patricia. "I dare say he'll get over it."
"You don't know what it is to be the victim of a grande passion ," said Rosemary.
Miss Allison felt extinguished. Rosemary thrust her slim fingers up through her hair. "Sometimes I feel as though I should go mad!" she announced, apparently holding her head on by main force. "What am I to do?"
"Snap out of it!" recommended Miss Allison, gratefully borrowing the expression from Mr. Harte's vocabulary. "Sorry to be so unsympathetic, but from what I've seen of Trevor Dermott I think you'd better be careful. He doesn't look to me the sort of man you can play about with safely."
Rosemary raised her head from her hands. "I suppose you think it's all terribly silly," she said. "I dare say it seems so to you. But you don't know what it is to be desperately in love, do you?"
This was too much for Miss Allison. She said in an affronted voice: "Considering I've just got engaged to be married—"
"Oh yes, but that's so different!" Rosemary interrupted with a smile of immeasurable superiority. "I mean, you've fallen in love in a sensible way, haven't you? I envy you awfully. I would give anything to be able to take things in that quiet way. I know I spend myself too much. It wears me out. Of course, personally, I can't imagine being swept off one's feet by Jim. I know you don't mind my saying that, do you? It isn't that I don't like him. I think he's very nice, in a dull sort of way. What I mean is, he isn't a bit out of the ordinary, is he?"
"We ought to hit it off splendidly, then," said Miss Allison, nettled.
Rosemary's interest in another person's affairs was always evanescent. Her mind had already reverted to the drama of her own life, and she only smiled absently at this remark and said: "I don't think Clement could live without me, do you?"
"I've no idea," replied Miss Allison. "Do you mind if I go to bed? I'm rather sleepy."
"Oh, are you?" said Rosemary, faintly surprised. "I don't feel as though I should ever be able to sleep in this room. I think it's the paper. I lie awake counting those damned baskets of flowers."
"Why not try turning the light out?" suggested Miss Allison.
"My dear," said Rosemary earnestly, "if I do that they close in on me. They do, really. It's my nerves. I've told Clement it's got to be repapered at once. I can't stand it. Do you think I should like a shaded apricot paint?"
"Yes, I'm sure you would," said Miss Allison, edging towards the door.
"I think you've probably got marvellous taste," remarked Rosemary. "The awful part about me is that I think I shall like a thing, and then when it's done I find I loathe it." She sighed. "I suppose you want to go to bed. I don't a bit. I feel as though every nerve in my body was stretched taut. Do you ever get like that?"
"Often," said Miss Allison.
"I don't suppose you do really," said Rosemary. "If you did, you'd never be able to live in the same house with that ghastly maid of Aunt Emily's."
Miss Allison laughed. "Oh, there's no harm in Ogle. She's jealous of anyone trying to come between her and Mrs. Kane, that's all."
"She hates me," said Rosemary. "She spies on me. She hates Clement too. I've got a sort of sixth sense that tells me she does."
"I think you're mistaken," said Patricia, not because she did think so but with the unhopeful object of nipping this obsession in the bud. "She just doesn't care tuppence for anyone but Mrs. Kane."
But Ogle's dislike of the Clement Kanes was so bitter that it superseded her mistrust of Miss Allison. She said: "Them to be in the master's place, driving my dear into her grave with their nasty ways!"
"Nonsense!" said Miss Allison.
Ogle shot a smouldering look at her under her thick low brows. "You may call it nonsense if you please, miss. I'm only an ignorant old woman that never had any fine education, but I know what I know, and no one'll ever persuade me different." She went on folding Emily's clothes away, handling them tenderly, as though they were a part of Emily. "Forty-five years I've been with her. I know her better than Mr. Silas did, better than the old master did." She paused and added grimly: "He was a bad husband to her. Light come, light go. But she never said anything. She was never one to talk about her troubles."
"You should not tell me this," Patricia said gently.
"You could learn it easy enough from others besides me. She's too old to have more troubles."
"I know it's unfortunate that she should dislike Mr. Clement, but perhaps she'll get used to him. He's very kind to her, after all."
"She won't get used to him!" Ogle said fiercely. "She'll eat her heart out, with no one but me to turn to! Everyone leaves her but me. There's no one cares what becomes of her. She took a fancy to you, but you don't mean to stay."
Patricia said guiltily: "I'm going to be married."
"Yes, miss, she told me. You're going to marry Mr. James. Why don't you stay with her, the both of you?"
"We couldn't do that. This is Mr. Clement's house. Of course, I shall stay till she finds someone else to take my place."
Ogle rolled up a pair of stockings, her hands trembling a little. "Some worthless madam to plague her life out! You're the only one she ever had that wasn't a worriting fool! But you don't care! No one cares but me!"
Miss Allison felt that the news of her approaching nuptials could scarcely be said (in Oscar Roberts' phraseology) to have gone over big either with Ogle or with Rosemary.
Emily, however, had seemed pleased; and Clement, though it was evident that he thought his cousin might have done better for himself, congratulated both parties and said that Miss Allison would be a great loss to everyone at Cliff House. Young Mr. Harte was no believer in marriage and was inclined to look upon his stepbrother's engagement as yet another instance of a promising career blighted, but he admitted that Miss Allison was quite a decent sort.
"Anyway, she's not half as bad as that Malcolm dame you were nuts on two years ago," he said.
This handsome tribute failed to please. Jim said in a dulcet voice: "My little pet, what a gift from heaven you are! It may interest you to know that I don't even remember what the Malcolm dame looked like."
"She was a bit like the other one you were gone on," said Timothy helpfully. "I forget her name, but she had red fingernails, and—"
"If you don't shut up I'll wring your neck!" said Mr. James Kane.
This ferocious threat made Mr. Harte aware suddenly that he had hit upon a subject for blackmail. His eye brightened; he said: "I bet Miss Allison doesn't know about the others."
"There weren't any others," said Jim. "Don't try to be funny!"
Mr. Harte drove his hands into the pockets of his trousers and said with a grin: "Say, buddy, let's talk business!"
Jim sighed his resignation. "You're barking up the wrong tree. My life's an open book."
"Sure it is," agreed Mr. Harte. "The way I figure it—"
"Talk English!"
"Right!" said Mr. Harte briskly. "Will you take me with you when you have the speedboat out?"
"I might."
"Nix on that!" said Mr. Harte, reverting to a foreign tongue. "I've got the drop on you, and don't you forget it!"
Miss Allison arrived on the scene a few minutes later to find Mr. Harte, in a highly dishevelled condition, ensconced on the branch of a tree well above Jim's reach. She shook her head regretfully. "You should have wrung his neck while you had him," she said.
"I know I should," replied Jim. "Blackmail's his latest racket."
"Do you swear to take me out every time with you in the boat?" demanded Mr. Harte.
"No. Do your worst!" said Jim.
"You are a rotten cad!" said Mr. Harte, disgusted. "I've a jolly good mind to blow the gaff."
"Ha!" exclaimed Miss Allison. "I knew it! You've got a guilty secret. Timothy, is there another woman in his life?"
"Hundreds of them!" said Timothy with relish.
Miss Allison appeared to be overcome and begged Mr. James Kane, in throbbing accents, not to touch her.
"Curse you, you have been my ruin!" groaned Mr. Kane, shaking his fist at the tree.
"I say, Jim, you will take me, won't you?" said Mr. Harte, abandoning blackmail.
"Yes, and drop you overboard with a weight tied round your ankles. Come down!"
"Is it pax if I do?" inquired Mr. Harte suspiciously.
"All right," agreed Jim.
Mr. Harte descended, gave his trousers a perfunctory brush with his hands, and said darkly: "I know one person who'll probably have a fit when he hears about Miss Allison and you getting married."
"Talking about serpents' teeth—" began Miss Allison hastily.
"No, you don't!" interrupted Jim. "Go on, Timothy; who is it?"
"Mr. Mansell," replied Timothy. "Not old Mr. Mansell; the other one. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he tried to poison you, or something. He's batty about Miss Allison."
"What, that bounder?" said Jim. "Fellow with waved hair and a wasp waist? Pat, I thought better of you!"
"Nor was your trust misplaced," answered Patricia cheerfully. "I think he's a horror."
"He is too," nodded Timothy. "I jolly well hope he comes oiling round you again before he knows about your being engaged to Jim. Then Jim can dot him one on the boko." This programme appealed to him so strongly that his eyes gleamed with simple pleasure, and he added: "It 'ud be a pretty good lark if he did come and start making love to Miss Allison! I should think you could knock him out easily, couldn't you? I say, let's lay a trap for him! I bet Clement would be as pleased as punch if you beat him up."
"Why?" demanded Miss Allison.
"Because he can't stand him, of course. He had a stinking row with him on the phone yesterday. I know, 'cos I was in the room, and when Clement rang off he woffled a whole lot to me about people bothering his life out, and never seeing any point of view but their own, and being sick to death of the whole Mansell family."
Jim told him he ought not to repeat such confidences, but they did not come as news to him. Clement had already unburdened himself to his cousin, complaining of the enormous death duties Silas' estate would have to bear, of the weight of responsibility Silas had left him. He had even touched upon the Australian project, but though Jim could sympathise he felt himself to be quite unqualified to advise.
Clement made it plain that he was being badgered by his partners. It seemed to Jim that one half of his mind liked the Australian plan, while the other half shrank from it. He vacillated as Silas would never have done, mistrusted all the Mansells' arguments in favour of the scheme, and ended by absenting himself from the office on the score of having so much to do in picking up the threads of Silas' private affairs that he had no time for more than flying visits to the office.
The ingenuity he displayed in evading Oscar Roberts lent a certain amount of colour to Timothy's theory, but Roberts cornered him at last by the simple expedient of stating calmly that when he came to Cliff House on Saturday afternoon, as he had been invited to do, he hoped to have a little talk with Clement before presenting himself at Mrs. Kane's tea table. Clement agreed, vaguely thankful that he would be able to make his position clear to Roberts without having to encounter at the same time arguments, and possibly recriminations, from his two partners.
"He's going to turn it down," Paul said.
"I'm afraid so. I'm afraid so," Joe Mansell replied.
"I would never have thought it of him. Never."
Paul smiled rather unpleasantly but said nothing.
"Roberts may manage to persuade him," Joe said, but without much hope.
"Why should he?" Paul shrugged. "Plenty of other firms who'd jump at his proposition if we pass it up."
"No doubt, but there's only one Kane and Mansell," said Joe. "I fancy we stand alone."
"He won't care about that," Paul said. "He wants the best if he can get it, but if he can't the next-best will do very well. You'll see."
"I have half a mind to call at Cliff House on Saturday myself," said Joe. "After all, I am much older than Clement, and if he listens to anyone it will be to me. I can quite well go to see the old lady. In fact, I ought to pay her a visit. I haven't been there since Silas died."
Emily, had he but known it, counted this a gain and would certainly have elected to stay in her own room on Saturday if she had had warning of his fell design.
Since Clement's arrival at Cliff House she had segregated herself as much as was possible. On fine mornings she drove out for an hour in a landaulette Daimler of antique design which she obstinately refused to part with, but she usually lunched upstairs and rarely came down afterwards. Rosemary, who was expecting Trevor Dermott, thought that sheer perversity prompted Emily to elect to be wheeled into the garden at three o'clock on Saturday afternoon. She was convinced that Emily knew of Dermott's impending visit and wished to spy upon her, and complained bitterly to Patricia that when the disconcerting old lady was at large you were never safe, because for all her pretence of having to be wheeled about she could move perfectly well on her own feet and very often did so.
Patricia, who had more than once been surprised at Emily's mobility, could not help laughing at Rosemary's injured expression. She suspected shrewdly that it amused Emily to startle her family by sudden spurts of energy, but she knew that her unaided excursions tired her more than she would admit. She quite agreed that it would be impolitic to present Trevor Dermott to Emily and managed by the exercise of considerable tact to settle her comfortably on the south side of the house, out of range of the front avenue. Here Jim joined her, a circumstance which made it possible for Miss Allison to slip away into the house to make up the weekly accounts which formed a part of her duties.
Rosemary, aware that a highly dramatic and possibly violent scene lay before her, armed herself for it by putting on a dove-grey frock and an appealing picture hat. The facts that Emily was seated within earshot of the drawing room, that Clement was working in the study, and that Timothy showed a disposition to drift in and out of the house made her decide to conduct her interview with Dermott elsewhere. Accordingly she strolled out of the house and down the avenue to meet him, naively informing Miss Allison that she thought it would really be better if Clement did not see that provocative touring car drive up to the door.
Miss Allison quite agreed with her. She watched her compose her face into an expression of wistful saintliness, enjoyed a private laugh at her expense, and retired to wrestle with accounts in the little room she used as an office.
These did not take her long, and by half-past three she had finished. She picked up the detailed list for Clement and was about to take it to his study when she heard a bell ring faintly in the distance and, going out into the hall, encountered Pritchard on his way to the front door.
He opened it, and Oscar Roberts stepped over the threshold, saying pleasantly: "Good afternoon. I fancy Mr. Kane's expecting me."
"Yes sir. Will you come this way?" said Pritchard, relieving him of his hat and cane.
Oscar Roberts smiled at Miss Allison and was about to follow the butler when a sudden report, as from a gun, startled them all into immobility. For an instant no one moved. Then Pritchard muttered: "My God, what's that?" and almost ran to the study door and flung it open.
Clement Kane lay crumpled across his desk, one arm hanging limply at his side, the other crooked under his fallen head.