She went up to her room when the trip to Swanage was over, taking with her the newspaper which Romilly had bought for her. It was almost time for lunch, so she tidied herself and listened for the sound of the gong. While she waited she walked over to the picture of the two young men and studied it afresh. For some reason, her thoughts turned to her secretary Laura, who displayed at times a vivid imagination and a sense of the dramatic. Laura she thought, having been apprised of the fact that the household was, in some respects, a strange one, and having encountered Rosamund, with her complaints, fears and suspicions, would have regarded the picture with a prejudiced and jaundiced eye. On impulse, she reached up and took it down. Behind it there was a neat, foot-square hole in the party wall, and the picture, which was on thin canvas with no protecting glass, had been put up to conceal this.
It was clear, she thought, why her own room had been chosen for her treatment of Rosamund Lestrange. Somebody-most likely the master of the house-must be determined to overhear all that passed between Dame Beatrice and her patient. She realised now why Rosamund had sought her out while Romilly was downstairs. Rosamund must also know that there was an opening in the wall behind the picture.
She was far too old and experienced to be surprised by the lengths to which human curiosity can go, but, in view of the facts in this particular case, so far as she knew them, the large, neat hole seemed to indicate something a little more reprehensible than mere curiosity. She replaced the picture and, hearing the gong sound for lunch, went thoughtfully down the stairs. Once again there were only the three of them at table.
'Well,' said Judith brightly, 'how did you think Swanage was looking?'
'I saw little of it,' Dame Beatrice replied. 'It is a pleasant town, and I am thinking of taking my patient to visit it this afternoon. It will help with the beginning of her treatment.'
'Oh, but, my dear Beatrice,' said Romilly, in the utmost dismay, 'surely that would be most unwise! The very thing we have to watch most carefully is that she does not go near the sea!'
'That may be your opinion, but it is not mine, and, as I am in charge of the case, I must be permitted to conduct it in my own way. My theory is that we should give your wife every opportunity to drown anything she pleases. It is the best way to cure her of her obsession. I have decided to follow the principle laid down by makers of cream cakes and sweetmeats, that of allowing their workpeople to eat as much as they wish of the product they are making. The novelty wears off and the appetite is very soon satiated. In my opinion, the frustration which your wife must feel in not being allowed to follow a course of conduct which satisfies her-'
'But there is the risk that Trilby may drown, not merely trivial objects and small mammals, but herself!' exclaimed Romilly.
'That risk, in any case, will be considerably less from a bathing-beach, where I shall be in charge of her, than from the cliffs, for instance, above Chapman's Pool, or-according to the photographs I have seen-I do not know the place-the rocks of Dancing Ledge. As you yourself have told me, she has been able, on occasion, to elude your vigilance and to reach that part of the coast alone.'
'Well, I think it's a lot of nonsense!' Judith blurted out. 'Of course she mustn't go near the water!'
'My dear girl!' said Romilly. 'You must not talk like that! My cousin Beatrice, in her own field, is an expert. If,' he went on, turning to her, 'you feel that to take poor Trilby to the seaside will help her in any way, of course you must do as you wish. The only thing is that either Judith or myself must come with you. I could not permit you to take the risk of being alone there with my poor, misguided little girl.'
'Even at this time of year, we should hardly be alone at Swanage. Besides, my chauffeur will be there if I need any help. The worst thing for Rosamund, in my opinion, would be for those nearest her to be eavesdroppers on our conversations,' said Dame Beatrice equably.
'Eavesdroppers?' cried Judith, indignantly.
'For want of a more euphemistic term, yes, eavesdroppers,' Dame Beatrice repeated firmly. 'That is how the patient would interpret your presence, I'm afraid.'
Judith rose from the table.
'I give up,' she said. 'The whole idea is crazy, and your reference to Uncle Romilly and myself is extremely offensive.'
'Sit down at once, Judith,' said Romilly, in a mild tone but with a clear command behind the softly-spoken words. 'We must allow Beatrice to act in the way she thinks best. After the first time, I doubt whether she herself will wish to continue the experiment alone.'
Dame Beatrice had no hope that she would be able to see her charge before the other two had spoken to her. She also wondered whether Rosamund would appear in the Joan of Arc costume. Before they rose from table-Judith having preserved a sulky silence after her last outburst, and Romilly having avoided the disputed subject and chatted with apparent amiability on trivial matters-Dame Beatrice said smoothly:
'Can Mrs Romilly be ready to join me at half-past two?'
Judith shrugged her shoulders. Romilly bowed and replied:
'Of course, of course, my dear Beatrice. I am afraid you'll find her incredibly costumed. She refuses to wear modern dress, and flies into a paroxysm if I suggest it.'
'Well, I'm often incredibly costumed myself,' said Dame Beatrice, accurately. At half-past two, then, I look forward to meeting her.'
'I wonder how she'll get herself up?' said Judith. 'Oh, well, it's her affair-and yours. Not that she hasn't plenty of sensible clothes if she chooses to wear them.' She turned to Romilly. 'Why don't you make her unlock that wardrobe and get out some respectable clothes and insist she put them on?'
'How does one insist, my dear? I can hardly threaten her, and, even if I did, I doubt whether she would take much notice.'
'You're far too soft with her, don't you think so, Dame Beatrice?'
'Oh, come, my dear girl! How can Beatrice answer such a question when, so far, she knows nothing whatever about Trilby?'
'I would not say I know nothing whatever about her,' objected Dame Beatrice. 'You yourself have been most informative. As for insisting on what a patient does or does not do, well, that depends either upon the patient's intelligent and friendly cooperation or, of course, her fear of death.'
'Fear of death?' echoed Romilly, forcing himself to laugh. 'Good heavens, there's no question of her fearing death! Why should there be?'
'Most people fear death to a greater or a lesser degree, and for a variety of reasons, do they not?'
'Oh, I see what you mean,' said Romilly. 'Yes, well, look here, Judith, my dear, if Beatrice is going to take Trilby out, it will be a convenient time for me to go over the household accounts with you.'
Judith pouted at this, and said that it was quite unnecessary.
Dame Beatrice went to her room to get ready for the outing, then she rang the bell.
'Oh, Amabel,' she said, 'will you ask my man to bring the car round? I am taking Mrs Romilly for an outing to Swanage.'
'Be rare and cold on the beach this toime of year, Dame Beatrice, mum. Swanage be bracen. Face east, that do, more nor south.'
'Yes, I had thought of that. We may need rugs. Will you tell George to get them out of the boot, and perhaps you or Violet will make sure that they are aired before he puts them ready for us on the back seat.' (If Rosamund's costume were a little too bizarre, she thought, the rugs would cover it up to some extent.)
'Oi'll do that, Dame Beatrice, mum. Be noice for poor Messus Trelby to go out proper. A fair old lettle hen en a pen her be, I do believe. Can't thenk how she aboide et, really Oi carn't.'
'She looks well enough on it,' said Dame Beatrice carelessly. Feeling herself dismissed, which was indeed the case, Amabel went downstairs to rout out George and the rugs. As soon as she was out of hearing, Dame Beatrice stepped out on to the gallery and turned the handle of the door next to her own. It was locked. This she found especially intriguing in view of the hole which had been made in the wall.