They Found Him Dead (8 page)

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?"