Stella came into the room, still rather white, but quite calm. She stood on the threshold, and said: “Aunt Gertrude ought to be told. Shall I ring her up?”
“Darling, if only you would allow me to be quiet for just a little time!” her mother said. “You neither of you seem to think of what I must be feeling. We did not always agree, but Harriet and I —”
“Aunt Gertrude's her sister. She ought to be told,” Stella repeated.
Mrs Matthews made a gesture of resignation. “Tell anyone you please, only don't keep on worrying me when you can see how upset I am.”
Stella went out again, Mrs Matthews leaned her head in her hand and murmured: “I really don't think I feel up to seeing Gertrude. I believe I'll go to my room, and lie down.”
“You'll have to see her,” Guy answered. “She'll insist—she's bound to.”
Stella came back in a few moments, and said curtly that Mrs Lupton was coming at once.
“What did she say?” Guy asked.
“Nothing much. Utterly taken aback at first. Then she just said she'd come round. She'll be here in about ten minutes.”
They sat down to wait. After what seemed an age they heard the hush of tyres on the gravel-drive, and in another minute or two Mrs Lupton walked into the room.
It was a relief to find, in a world become suddenly distorted, that Mrs Lupton was still herself. She swept a glance round the room, and said in a voice of outraged majesty: “What is all this nonsense Stella tried to tell me?”
“It's true,” Guy said. “Aunt Harriet's dead.”
Mrs Lupton said: “Impossible! I don't believe it!” Then, as though the inutility of these words dawned on her, she added: “It is incredible! I hardly know what I am saying. How did it happen? She was well enough last night!”
“It must have been a stroke,” Mrs Matthews answered. “I said so the instant I saw her. The worry of Gregory's death—it was all too much for her.”
“A stroke! Harriet?” Mrs Lupton looked from her sister-in-law to her nephew. She moved towards a chair, and sat down in it. “Kindly tell me at once what has happened here!” she commanded.
“She said she felt seedy at breakfast,” Guy said jerkily. “We thought she'd eaten something that disagreed with her.”
“Very likely,” said his aunt. “But I have yet to learn that indigestion can be the cause of death. Go on!”
“She went up to her room, to lie down. Stella found her at lunch-time.”
“Dead?” Mrs Lupton asked on a note of horror. “Yes.”
Mrs Lupton put up a hand to her eyes. “This is terrible!” she announced. “First Gregory, then Harriet! I do not know what to say. I am completely bowled over. My poor sister! I do not seem able to grasp it. Did you say she had a stroke?”
“We think it must have been that,” Mrs Matthews replied. “And I suppose we should be thankful the end was so quick and painless.”
“The end!” Mrs Lupton exclaimed indignantly. “Good heavens, Zoë, you talk as though my unfortunate sister had been a hopeless invalid! She was perfectly healthy! She should have had many years to live!”
Stella blurted out: “There's going to be a post-mortem. Deryk thinks she was poisoned.”
There was a defensive note in her voice, but Mrs Lupton rather surprisingly said after a moment's blank silence: “Rubbish!”
A little sigh broke from Mrs Matthews. She said: “Of course it is rubbish. But it is very, very painful for all of us, none the less.”
“I have no opinion of Dr Fielding,” pronounced Mrs Lupton. “Pray, how does he presume to diagnose a case of poisoning when he was totally unable to detect it in Gregory's death? And who wanted to poison poor Harriet, I should like to know? I am not aware of anyone, except you, Zoë, having the least motive for doing such a thing.”
“That'll do, thanks!” Guy said harshly. “Mother had no motive, none that would satisfy any jury in the world!”
“I can respect your championship of your mother,” replied Mrs Lupton with a certain grimness, “but you would be better employed in facing the facts as they are. Your mother had a certain motive for poisoning my poor sister—not that I accuse her of having done it, for I cannot suppose that she would have been fool enough to take such a risk while the police are still investigating your uncle's death. But if you think that the police will not make very particular inquiries into her movements today you are living in a fool's paradise, my dear Guy, and the sooner you cease to do so the better it will be for you!”
Mrs Matthews arose from the sofa, and said tragically: “I can only hope, Gertrude, that you don't realise what you are saying. I don't think you know how deeply you have wounded me. I am going to my room now. Somehow I don't feel I can bear any more.”
Mrs Lupton made no effort to detain her. She watched her go out of the room, and then herself rose, and announced that she wished to see her sister's body.
“Fielding's locked the room up,” Guy said briefly.
Mrs Lupton's bosom swelled. “Dr Fielding takes a great deal upon himself!” she said. “In my opinion he is an officious and an incompetent young jackanapes!”
That seemed to dispose of Dr Fielding. Mrs Lupton, promising to give him a piece of her mind at the first opportunity, laid a strict charge on her nephew to notify her by telephone of whatever should happen next, and left the Poplars.
Not until Miss Matthews' body had been removed did Mrs Matthews come downstairs again. As though by tacit consent, neither Stella nor Guy, alone in the library, made any attempt to discuss the cause of their aunt's death, but when Mrs Matthews reappeared she opened the subject by saying as she entered the room: “I have been thinking about it all very deeply, and I feel more than ever convinced that poor Harriet had a stroke. You know, she has not been herself ever since Gregory was taken from us. When the police come we must tell them the truth just as simply as possible. We have none of us anything to hide, and I do so want you, my dears, to be your natural selves, and not to behave in any silly, exaggerated way that might make anyone who didn't know you as I do think that you were afraid of something coming out.”
Stella raised her eyes. “What are we to say, mother?”
Mrs Matthews returned the look with one of her limpid gazes. “Dearest, Stella, I don't understand you. You must just tell the police exactly what you know.”
“And the medicine you gave her? You told Deryk, mother.”
“Naturally I told him, dear, and it goes without saying that I shall tell the police, and let them see the bottle for themselves.”
Guy turned his head. “It hasn't come to that yet. We don't know that this is a matter for the police until after the post-mortem. Fielding was wrong before, and he may be wrong now.”
“Of course,” Mrs Matthews agreed. “I was only thinking of what we should do if the worst happened. Please don't run away with the idea that I believe your aunt was poisoned!”
Beecher came into the room. He still looked rather shaken, and he spoke in an expressionless voice which made Stella think, He's going to give notice: they all will. “Mr Rumbold has called, madam, and would like to see you.”
“Show him in,” said Mrs Matthews.
It was evident that Rumbold had heard the news. He looked even more shocked than Beecher. He said, not in his usual calm way, but with a note of horror in his voice: “Mrs Matthews, I have just heard—It can't be true!”
Mrs Matthews held out her hand, but turned her face away. “Yes, my dear friend, it is true,” she said. “We can scarcely believe it ourselves. My poor, poor sister-in-law!”
He clasped her hand, and continued to hold it, half unconsciously. “Your housemaid told our cook—but I couldn't think it possible! I don't know what to say. That poor, unfortunate woman —”
Guy wheeled round to face him. “Mr Rumbold, we think there can be no doubt that my aunt had a stroke!” he said.
Rumbold looked quickly across at him. “A stroke! Is that Fielding's verdict?”