"I entirely agree with you," said Dinah cordially.
Mrs. Chudleigh folded her lips in a rigid line, and rose. Fay, observing her, said: "Oh, must you go, Mrs. Chudleigh? Won't you stay and join us in a cocktail?"
"Thank you, I never touch anything before dinnertime, and then very rarely," replied Mrs. Chudleigh forbiddingly. "Now please do not dream of coming with me! Perhaps you will send me your subscription to the Fund, for I should not think of troubling you to give it to me when you are busy entertaining your guests. Dear me, it is actually half past twelve already! I must indeed hurry if I am not to keep Hilary waiting. Really, there is no need for you to go with me, Lady Billington-Smith. I will take the garden way, if I may, and that will save going through the house. Good-bye, I hope your headache will be better soon — though I do not think that I should recommend cocktails as a cure!" She smiled rather acidly, bowed to the rest of the company, and went off down the steps to the lawn, and across it to the path that led to the drive.
Camilla Halliday barely waited until she was out of hearing before she said: "For this relief much thanks"! I'm sorry for poor old Hilary."
Mrs. Twining looked her over. "You need not be," she said calmly. "Emmy Chudleigh is entirely devoted to her husband."
Camilla reddened angrily under this second snub she had received in less than half an hour. Luckily Finch came on to the terrace at that moment with a tray of cocktails, which diverted her attention. Mrs. Twining, having disposed of Camilla to her satisfaction, turned to Basil Halliday, and in the blandest manner started to talk to him. Fay lay back in her chair with her eyes half shut, and Dinah, feeling that Camilla had been harshly, though justly, used, asked her how she managed to tan so evenly. This being a conversational gambit after Camilla's own heart, she at once revived, and became most voluble. Within the space of ten crowded minutes Dinah learned just how one could acquire that particular shade of golden-brown so much admired; what oil to use, and what to avoid; how one sunbathed on the Riviera; and which shade of lipstick one ought to use when the tanning process was completed.
Then Stephen Guest reappeared, and Camilla at once transferred her attention to him. "You're very nearly too late for a cocktail!" she said. "Come and sit down beside me. Are you going on the three-ten like us, or are you one of the idle rich, with a car?"
"No, I don't run a car," he replied. "I shall be on the train all right." He stretched out his hand towards the table and picked up his glass.
"Hullo, have you cut yourself?" inquired Halliday, leaning forward in his chair.
Guest glanced quickly down at his hand. There was a smear of blood on his shirt-cuff. "Yes," he replied. "That's what kept me. I was opening one of those darned tobacco tins. I got the lid stuck, and like a fool tried to tear the tol off."
"Oh, I know! aren't they awful?" said Camilla. "You mean the sort you have to twist round, to cut that stupid tin-stuff? Have you put anything on it? You ought to paint it with iodine, you know. I have a friend who got a septic hand through just that sort of thing. Do let me look at it!"
"It's nothing," Guest said, pulling down his cuff.
Fay had opened her eyes. "Stephen, have you really hurt yourself? Do please put something on it! Let me see!
Guest drank his cocktail and set the glass down again. "Shucks, Fay! as we say out west. It's only a scratch."
Mrs. Twining glanced at her watch. "Fay, my dear, it is very nearly one o'clock, and high time Arthur was made to emerge from his monk-like seclusion. I will take my courage in both hands and beard him in his den." She rose as she spoke, smiled reassuringly at Fay's doubtful look, and went into the house.
Stephen Guest moved over to a chair beside Dinah. "I gather she means to try her hand on Arthur?" he said in an undertone.
"Yes, that's why she came," Dinah replied. "Heroic attempt, but I don't myself think she'll get much change out of him."
"No, I should say she wouldn't," said Guest in his deliberate way.
Mrs. Twining was not absent for long. In little more than five minutes she had returned, and stood in the window, very white and breathing unevenly. "Fay… Mr. Guest… !"
Guest got up quickly, looking at her with narrowed ryes. "Is anything the matter, Mrs. Twining? You look kind of queer."
"Yes," she said faintly. "I feel — a little sick. Arthur… I went into the study… Arthur is there — dead."
"Dead?" The shocked cry came from Fay.
Mrs. Twining moistened her lips. "Murdered!" she said. She took a step forward, putting out her hand to grasp a chair back, and they saw that her glove was wet with blood.
Chapter Six
For a moment no one moved or spoke. Then Stephen Guest broke the startled silence. "Dinah, look after Fay," he said, and strode past Mr. Twining to the window.
"I'll come with you," Halliday said, in a queer, strangled voice. As he brushed by her chair he heard his wife stammer: "But who — Oh, it's too awful! I don't believe it!"
Finch was just coming out of the dining-room when the two men crossed the hall. Guest said: "There's been some kind of an accident, Finch. You'd better come along."
The butler laid down the tray he was carrying. "An accident, sir? I hope not Mr Geoffrey, sir?"
"No. Sir Arthur," replied Guest, walking towards the study door.
It was shut, just as it had been all the morning. He opened it, and went in.
The room seemed very quiet The General was seated at his desk. He had fallen forward across it, with his head on the blotting pad, and one arm stretched out over a litter of bills and invoices. The other hung limply at his side. A curious Chinese dagger lay on the floor by the chair, its blade sticky with blood. There were no signs that any struggle had taken place. The room, a square, severely furnished apartment, was almost painfully tidy. A saddle-bag chair stood beside the empty fireplace; More bookshelves of the expanding variety filled one wall; there was a small safe behind the door, and, next to it a filing cabinet. The desk stood in a central position, facing the French windows looking on to the drive. These stood open, apparently of design, since each half was bolted to the floor to prevent slamming in any sudden draught. On the west wall another long window was securely fastened, the dun-coloured net curtains being drawn apart to admit the maximum amount of light to the room. The General was sitting in a swivel chair with a low rounded back, and placed against the wall were one or two straight chairs with leather seats. There was a Turkey carpet on the floor, and several trophies hanging on the walls. The desk itself was a large, knee-hole writing-table, with drawers. An electric reading-lamp with a green shade stood on it, the telephone, a brass inkstand, a blotter, a sheaf of accounts, a couple of pens, and a pencil which seemed to have slipped from the General's fingers. On the floor, within reach of the General's hand, was a waste-paper basket, half-full of torn and crumpled sheets of paper.
All three men had paused for an instant in the doorway. The butler said in a hushed voice: "Good God, sir!" He went forward with Guest, and bent over his master's still form. "Sir Arthur!" Then he raised his head, and looked from Guest to Halliday. "Stabbed!" he said, as though the thing were barely credible.
"Yes," said Guest unemotionally. "Stabbed in the neck with this, I guess." He bent to pick up the dagger at his feet.
"Don't touch that!" Halliday said quickly. He had not moved from the doorway, where he had stood transfixed, staring at the General's body, but he took a quick step forward now and caught Guest's arm. "There may be finger-prints."
Guest straightened himself. "I was forgetting. You're right."
"Are you sure he's dead? Can't we do anything?" Halliday demanded shakily. "This is too ghastly!" He put out his hand, hesitated for the fraction of a minute, and then resolutely laid it over the slack one lying on the desk. "He's not cold."
"He's dead all right," Guest answered.
The butler, who was looking rather pale, but still quite composed, moved across to the windows, and carefully shut and bolted them and drew the net cur
tains across. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it over his face.
"Feeling queer?" Guest asked.
"No, sir. Thank you. It gave one rather a turn for the moment. It seems so sudden. Quite unexpected, as one might say. I take it, sir, you will be ringing up the police station?"
"I suppose we ought to do that at once," Guest answered, and picked up the instrument.
"I say, this is an appalling business!" Halliday said. "Of course the police must be sent for, but I'm thinking of Lady Billington-Smith."
"Pardon me, sir, but has her ladyship been apprised of the — the accident?"
"Good God, yes! everyone knows. It was Mrs. Twining who found him."
"Oh dear, dear!" said Finch. "It is not, if I may say so, a sight for a lady."
Stephen Guest was speaking into the mouthpiece of the telephone. "I'm speaking from the Grange, from General Sir Arthur Billington-Smith's… Yes. There has been an accident… Yes, to the General. He's dead… No, not a natural death… You'll be up right now?… All right."
"What are we to do?" Halliday asked. "We can't leave him like this!"
"I think, sir, if I were to lock the door of this room it would be the best thing," said Finch. "With your permission I will do so, and keep the key until the police arrive."
"Yes, you'd better," agreed Guest. He cast a cursory glance down at the dead man. "Nothing for us to do here. We'd better be getting back to the women-folk."
At that moment a bell shrilled in the distance. Finch frowned slightly. "I think that is the front door, sir. If you will come now I will lock the room up before I answer the door."
"Never mind about that yet. Go and get rid of whoever it is," Halliday said.
The butler looked at him. "Yes, sir. If you will excuse me, I should prefer to see all locked up first."
Guest walked across to the door and took out the key, which was placed on the inside. "All right, Finch. I'll lock up," he said briefly.
"Very good, sir," Finch said, and went out.
"Give me the key!" said Halliday. "I'll do it. You get back to Lady Billington-Smith."
Stephen Guest fitted the key in again on the outside of the door. "That's all right. I shouldn't keep on looking at him, if I were you. Not a nice sight."
"No," Halliday said with a shudder. "Horrible!"
Finch came back and addressed himself to Guest. "It is Dr Raymond, sir, come to see her ladyship. I was wondering whether we should not inform the doctor of what has happened?"
"Yes, by all means," Guest answered. "Is he in the hall? I'll go out and speak to him."
The doctor was a burlyy man of about forty, with a cheerful manner and twinkling blue eyes. He was just pulling off his driving gloves when Guest came out of the study.
Guest said: "Good morning, doctor. My name's Guest. Would you mind coming into the study a moment?"
"Certainly," said Dr Raymond, looking somewhat surprised. "But I came to see Lady Billington-Smith. Is anything wrong?"
"Yes," said Guest bluntly. "Sir Arthur has just been discovered, dead."
The doctor's smile vanished. "Sir Arthur dead? Good heavens! I'll come at once."
When he stood inside the study and saw the General's body, his face changed. He shot one quick, searching look from Guest to Halliday, and then went up to the desk and bent over the still form there. He glanced up, and said in a curt, impersonal voice: "Do you know when this happened?"
"We're rather expecting you to tell us that," replied Guest.
Dr Raymond lifted the General's hand gently and tested the reflex action of the fingers. The three other nun stood silently waiting for him to finish his brief examination. Presently he straightened himself. "Have the police been notified?"
"As soon as it was discovered," replied Guest.
Halliday moved away from the door. "Have you formed any opinion as to when it could have been done, doctor?" he asked.
"It would be very hard to say with any exactness," the doctor answered. "Certainly within the last hour. Now if I may I should like to wash my hands, and then I think I had better see Lady Billington-Smith. She knows, of course, of this — tragedy?"
"Yes, she knows," Guest said. "Halliday, you might take the doctor along to the cloakroom. Nothing further you want to do here, doctor? Then Finch can shut the room up."
Halliday took him aside a moment "Look here, Guest, hadn't you or I better take the key? I mean — one can't be too careful, you know."
"I don't fancy you need worry about Finch," said Guest. "Still, you may be right. Doctor, will you take charge of the key till the police come?"
Outside they met Dinah, who had just come out of the drawing-room, looking rather pale but otherwise herself. "I say, this is pretty ghastly, isn't it?" she said. "Mrs. Twining's been telling us how she found him. What has got to be done? Can I help at all?"
"Keep everybody quiet," recommended Stephen. "This is Doctor — Don't think you told me your name, doctor?"
Dinah's face lightened. "Oh, good! My sister's feeling pretty bowled over, Dr Raymond, and I should think a strong brandy-and-soda wouldn't do Mrs. Twining any harm. In fact, that's what I came to get."
"I'll see Lady Billington-Smith in one moment," Raymond promised. "You're Miss Fawcett, I expect? If you'll lead the way, Mr — Halliday, isn't it? — I can just have a wash."
Dinah waited until he and Halliday had gone; then she turned to Guest again. "Stephen, this is going to be awful," she said. "It'll mean the police, won't it?"
"Fraid so," Guest replied. "It'll mean, unless I'm much mistaken, that no one will be catching that three-ten up to town. Think you can cope with the women?"
Finch gave a discreet cough. "If I might make a suggestion, sir, I could serve luncheon quietly in the dining-room now, for the visitors."
"It seems rather ghoulish," said Dinah dubiously. "Still — I suppose, one's got to eat, and anyway it would get Lola and Camilla out of the way."
"Has Lola come down yet?" inquired Guest.
A reluctant grin destroyed Miss Fawcett's gravity. "Yes, she has. I don't want to be flippant, but — but she's being rather good value. Only, of course, very trying for Fay. She seems to have made up her mind to be arrested for the crime. Camilla's merely hysterical. What I can't make out is where Geoffrey has got to. There's no sign of him, and it's already half past one."
Halliday and the doctor came back at that moment, and Dinah broke off to conduct Dr Raymond into the drawing-room.
Fay was seated beside Mrs. Twining on thee sofa, her hands clenched nervously together in her lap, her eyes unnaturally wide, as though she had caught a glimpse of some horror. Mrs. Twining, on the other hand, was as composed as ever, if a little white. Camilla Halliday was wrenching at a handkerchief, saying over and over again:
"I can't believe it! I simply can't believe it!" Lola, seated in a high-backed arm-chair, was looking bright-eyed and heroic. As the doctor came in, she was saying with great complacency: "For me this is an affair extremely terrible. It is known that the General — whom, however, I forgive, for I am a very good Christian, I assure you — has been most cruel to me. Certainly the police must ask themselves if it is not I who have stabbed the General."
Fay gave a shiver, but her fixed stare into space did not waver.
"Here's Dr Raymond," Dinah said, taking charge of her situation. "Mrs. Halliday, Lola — will you come into the dining-room now? Dr Raymond would like to see my sister alone, and — and — I think Finch is serving lunch."
"Lunch!" Camilla cried wildly. "How can you be so awful? I should be sick if I had to look at food!"
Mrs. Twining got up. "Nonsense!" she said. "You must try not to let your feelings run away with you, Mrs. Halliday, and to help as much as you can by behaving quite normally." She exchanged a somewhat forced smile with Dr Raymond, and led the way to the door.
Before she had time to open it, a cry from Lola stopped her. "Ah, Dios!" Lola exclaimed, and pointed dramatically to the window.
Geoffrey stood there, looking hot and dishevelled and nerve-ridden.
"Geoffrey! Where on earth have you been?" said Dinah involuntarily.
He passed a hand across his brow. "What's that got to do with you?" he said. "I don't know. Miles away." He became aware of their eyes staring at him, and said sharply: "What are you all looking at me for? It's nothing to do with you where I've been, is it?"
Dr Raymond stepped up to him, and took him by the arm. "Steady, young man. You're a bit over-done. Sit down. Something rather shocking has happened. Your father has been — well, murdered, I'm afraid."
Geoffrey looked blankly up at him. "What? Father's been murdered?" He blinked rather dazedly. "Are you going potty? I — you don't mean it, do you?" He read the answer in the doctor's face, and suddenly got up. "Good God!" he said. His mouth began to quiver; to their dismay he started to giggle, in helpless, lunatic gusts.
"Wells," Camilla gasped. "I must say!"
"Stop that!" Raymond said harshly. "Stop at once, Geoffrey: do you hear me? Now control yourself! Quite quiet!"
"Oh, I c-can't help it! Oh God, d-don't you's-see horn, f-funny it is?" wailed Geoffrey. "Your f, faces! Oh, d-don't make me laugh!"
Dinah vanished from the room, to reappear in a few moments with the brandy decanter and a glass. The doctor and Mrs. Twining were standing over Geoffrey, who had grown quieter, but who was still shaking with idiotic mirth.
Dr Raymond looked up. "Ah, thanks. Not too much — yes, that's enough. Now Geoffrey, drink this." He put the glass to Geoffrey's lips, and almost forced the spirit down his throat.
Geoffrey coughed and spluttered. The laughter died. He looked round the room, and moistened his lips.
"Sorry. I don't know what happened to me," he said in an exhausted voice. "Hul — hullo, Aunt Julia! What are you doing here? Who murdered Father?"
"We don't know, my dear," Mrs. Twining said quietly. "Dinah, if you'll take Mrs. Halliday and Miss de Silva into lunch, I think I'll stay here till Geoffrey feels more himself."
Dinah promptly held open the door for the other two to pass out. Under her compelling gaze they did so, but once in the hall Camilla gave a shudder, and declared her inability to pass the study-door. She was with difficulty induced to overcome this shrinking, and entered the dining-room in the end grasping Dinah's arm.
The Unfinished Clue Page 8