"Go to the devil!" said Jim rudely.
"You've taken the words out of my mouth, brother," said Timothy. "Have some more beer!"
"Blast you!" said Jim.
Timothy refilled his glass. "What kind of an impressionable ass do you take me for, Jim? Facetiousness apart?"
"I don't. I should have said you were pretty hardboiled, but you seem to have taken a header this time."
"I have, but if Mamma gave you the idea that I've fallen for a cross between a film-star and an adventurers, get rid of it! So far, I've failed to get my intended to name the day; and although I happen to admire her appearance I'm well aware that she wouldn't stand an earthly in any Beauty Competition."
"Oh!" said Jim, rather blankly. "It's like that, is it?" He lowered himself into one of the armchairs, and leaned forward to tickle Melchizedek under one ear. "I see."
"I hoped you might. You fell for a lot of Lovelies before you took a similar header over Pat, who wasn't a patch on any of them as far as looks went. So, if you've finished coming the elder brother, we can go on from there. If not, we'll discuss the weather."
"All right," Jim said. "Go on from there!"
"There isn't really very much to tell you," Timothy said reflectively. "I can set your mind at rest on one point. In spite of her often atrocious manners, she is indisputably a lady. No, blast it, she isn't! She's a gentlewoman! As far as her background goes, I only know that her mother was an Italian, and her father was an English artist. Since I've never heard of him, and since he demonstrably left his daughter without a penny, I deduce that he was a very poor artist. But since he seems to have supported a wife and a child in moderate comfort I also deduce that he had some private means - possibly an allowance from his family, which died with him. I do know that when her mother died, Beulah went to live with an uncle and aunt, on her father's side of the family. For some reason, undivulged, she broke with them; and has been earning her own living ever since."
"Hasn't she told you why she broke with them?"
"No." Timothy stirred the fire with one foot, and watched the flames leap up. He glanced down at his half brother. "I'm being very frank about this, Jim."
"Yes, all right! Go on!"
"I'd a lot rather not, but I've a pretty good idea of what Mamma probably told you, and you'd better have the true picture presented to you. At some time or other, Beulah took a knock. I don't know what it was, but it put a crust on her, She's scared white of something, and tries to hide it under a general air of belligerence. Seems to have taken Mamma in all right. Told you Beulah was an adventuress, didn't she?"
"Well, I don't know that she actually said -"
"Cut it out! We both know Mamma! If Beulah's out to entrap me and my money and my prospective title, she's going to work in a weird way to achieve her ends! She knows damned well I'd get a special licence and marry her tomorrow, if she'd consent. All she does is to try to choke me off."
"Any idea why?"
Timothy shrugged. "Oh, same line of talk you've been handing out! New style in adventuresses!"
"You needn't keep on harping on that theme: she obviously isn't an adventuress. I never thought she was: you aren't nearly a big enough catch for an adventuress! But what I do think, Timothy, little though you may like it, is that she doesn't sound the girl your fond relations would wish you to marry."
"My fond relations -"
"Yes, I know! We can all of us go to hell. I'll take that as read. You've been perfectly frank with me, and I'll be equally frank with you. I don't like the sound of this carefully shrouded background. Without wanting to hand out a lot of drip about Perfect Love and Perfect Trust, I do strongly advise you not to plunge into matrimony with a girl who conceals her past and her family from you!"
Timothy was silent for a moment; then he said abruptly: "I'd like you to meet her. Are you going home today, or are you staying in town?"
"I've got a room at the club. So likely I'd bolt for home in the middle of this imbroglio you've got yourself into, isn't it?"
A smile of considerable affection was bestowed upon him. "You great fool, what do you think you can do?" asked Timothy.
"I can run down to Berkshire, and dissuade Mother from taking the first train up to town!" said Jim grimly.
"If ever I spoke of you in opprobrious terms, I take them all back!" said Timothy. "You're a tower of strength, Jim!"
"Get out!" said his ungrateful half-brother. "You said this Beulah of yours was implicated in the murder: were you serious?"
"She knew Seaton-Carew, she disliked him, she had the opportunity to murder him. She's implicated to that extent. Like several others, including me."
"Could she have done it? I don't mean, did she: I'll accept that she didn't: but could any woman?"
"Easily," replied Timothy. "I know one or two neat ways of doing a man in, but I rather think this has 'em beat. I saw the body, and I saw how the trick had been worked. No strength required. Hold your arm up! I'll show you. All I need is a handkerchief, and - and - this ruler will do, for purposes of demonstration." He cast his folded handkerchief round Jim's wrist, applied the ruler, and turned it twice.
"Hi!" exclaimed Jim.
Timothy released the tourniquet. "Sorry! Wouldn't take many seconds, if that was round your neck, would it? In the actual murder, picture-wire was used - bought, earlier in the day, by Beulah, on Mrs. Haddington's instructions, and left on a shelf in the cloakroom. No secret about that - a fact which I trust our old friend has assimilated. I should think he would have: he's got a damned intelligent face."
"Hemingway? Got any reason to think he suspects the girl?"
"Not sure. He came here to get the low-down on what he calls the dramatis personae. Noticeable that he asked me no questions about Beulah. That might be because he guessed I was an interested party, or it might be that your arrival interrupted him. If Beulah treated him to her talented impersonation of a clam, which is all too likely, I should imagine that he's fairly bristling with suspicion. I wanted to muscle in on that interview, just to prevent her behaving like the silly little cuckoo she is, but she wasn't having any. What happened I really don't know. I motored her home to her digs when it was over, but she wasn't communicative, and I didn't press her. I'm going round to Charles Street this afternoon, ostensibly to make kind enquiries. If I can do it, I shall get Beulah to dine with me tonight. Some quiet place - Armand's. You come and join us, Jim! Eightish, and morning dress. I'll be there anyway."
"All right," Jim said, hoisting himself awkwardly out of his chair. "I've got to meet a man at the Savoy for lunch, but I don't think my business with him will take me long. If I get away in decent time, I'll nip down to Chamfreys this afternoon, administer a large soporific to Mother, and come back."
"What a bloody pest I am to you!" said Timothy remorsefully.
"You are, and always have been. I'm punch-drunk!" said Mr. Kane. "I'll tell Mother I'm going to see Beulah for myself: that'll hold her for a bit. But she'll want to know what I made of her, so bring her along tonight! She sounds pretty alarming, but better than the blonde, if Mother's description is anything to go by!"
"Good God, did Mamma get the wind up over Cynthia Haddington? What a rare turn she is, to be sure! The mildest of flirtations! She wouldn't look at me anyway: out for big game, Cynthia Haddington!"
This lighthearted conviction was destined to be shaken. Upon his presenting himself in Charles Street that afternoon, at an hour when he judged that Mrs. Haddington would still be resting, Timothy was led by Thrimby to the drawing-room, where he found Cynthia huddled in a chair beside the fire, a litter of periodicals at her feet, and an expression of the deepest discontent on her lovely face. At sight of Timothy, she sprang up, and flung herself in an embarrassingly uninhibited way upon his chest. "Oh, Timothy, thank God you've come!" she cried, and burst into tears.