Dr. Fell sat back with a grunt of satisfaction, and clipped the end of a cigar. "Thank you. Beer and tobacco, ma'am, are the twin warming pans of my declining years. Both have curious histories, to the first I have devoted an entire chapter of my work, The Drinking Customs of England from the Earliest Days. Do you know, for example, the first time that what is humorously called a prohibition law was ever in effect in history? Heh-heh. It affords me amusement to think that our friends the Americans believed they had something new. The first prohibition law was enacted in Egypt by the Pharaoh User, maat.-ra, or Rameses the Great, about the year 4000 B.C. It was an edict designed to prevent his subjects from getting sozzled on a species of barley beer and manufacturing whoopee in the streets of Thebes. Prohibitionists asserted that the next generation would never know the taste of the villainous stuff. Ha, hum, alas. The law failed, and was revoked. Tobacco, now…"
He struck a match, argumentatively. Tobacco, now — h'rrm; puff— puff— aaah! Tobacco, as I was saying, has a history which has been much distorted. Christopher Columbus saw American- natives smoking cigars as early as 1492. It is a curious and fantastic picture, almost as though they had been described as wearing top hats and gold watch chains. Jean Nicot…"
"Will you get on with what you were saying?" she interrupted, clenching her hands. "Eh? Oh, if you like…" He seemed to reflect. "I am given to understand, Mrs. Standish, that Mr. Depping was much addicted to gallantries."
" 'Gallantries' is precisely the word. He was gallant, in an age where men seem to think it most unnecessary."
"I see. And the ladies liked it?"
"Humph. I thought him a very charming man. The old hypocrite."
"Undoubtedly a man of singular gifts. But there was no one to whom he paid particular attention, was there?"
"There was not," she answered decisively. The lines tightened round her handsome mouth. "For instance, he took pleasure in reciting selections from the great poets to my daughter Patricia. I approved the practice. Young people are entirely too prone to neglect matters cultural in this lax generation; dear Canon Dibson said so over the wireless only last week, and I must say that I agree with him… But Patricia did not like Mr. Depping, and Madeleine Morgan positively detested him. H'm. H'm." She pondered, one eye narrowing. "Now I wonder… it couldn't, of course it couldn't have been dear Lucy Mellsworthy, from Bath. One of my very dearest friends, Dr. Fell, though of course much older. Nevertheless, I have always said there was a litde something — something — something suspicious about that whole family, since her cousin Nell ran away with that dreadful man who was owl-catcher for the zoo. Heredity tells; that's what I always say to my husband. Don't you agree?"
"I hardly think we need consider this Miss Mellsworthy—"
"Mrs. Mellsworthy," she corrected stiffly. "Indeed not. Besides, I do not think they were acquainted. All I said was, heredity tells. And I will tell you frankly, doctor: I do not like gossip. This nonsensical rumor of Mr. Depping running away with somebody: I will not stand for it in my house, and I wish you distinctly to understand that. — Where did you hear it?"
Dr. Fell chuckled. "You don't believe it's true, then?"
"I am bound to admit I never saw anything." She shut her lips firmly, peered over her shoulder, and edged forward. "Though, if the man was a criminal, I would not put anything past him. When I think that a son of mine almost married the daughter of a man who might have cut our throats any night, why, why—!" She shuddered. "I needn't tell you that I shall instruct my husband to take immediate steps about that. Such silliness in young people should be shaken out of them, anyhow. Besides…"
Trying to make no noise, Hugh slid his chair back. It was here now. Behind Maw Standish the door giving on the passage to the, drawing-room had opened. Spinelli, twirling his hat on one finger, a satisfied smirk on his face, preceded Langdon into the room. The solicitor, Hugh noticed, did not look so happy. Spinel-li's gaze rested briefly, without recognition, on Mrs. Standish; flickered past, and rested good-humoredly on Dr. Fell.
Thanks, governor. I'm all set now," he vouchsafed. "So I’ll be pushing off. Got a hired car down by the 'Bull'; Fll get back to Hanham, check out, and hop a night train to London. FU be on a boat tomorrow, if there is one. If not, I’ll see if they'll let me into France before I head back to the States. Well…"
"Dr. Fell," the colonel's lady said with mounting exasperation, "will you kindly inform me what this objectionable person is doing in my house?"
Spinelli looked over his shoulder. "Kind of feeling your oats, aren't you, mother?" he asked coolly. Then he turned back. Tiens, qui est la vielle vache! Je crois que son mari a couché sur la pin de sa chemise. Which reminds me, doc. Be a sport and don't try to keep me out of France, will you, eh? I’d like to brush up my French. I noticed you sent that fellow Murch and his harness-bull away; saw 'em go. Thanks. That's a square guy. Well, I’ll be seeing you. If you'll show me the front door of this joint—"
"Indeed?" said Maw Standish. "You have great presumptions, I think, my man. Doctor, will you ring for somebody? If we can arrange to show this person out by way of the cellar—"
Spinelli hid his face with his hand, and took it away in a gesture of his wrist. On his face there was plastered such a quirk of impudence that Hugh had a strong inclination to assist his progress with a kick.
"O.K., mother. O.K.! I’ll use the window, then. I don't think much of your country houses anyway. Lousy pictures, imitation antiques, Bowery manners—"
"Get out of here," said Dr. Fell, and surged to his feet.
It was the last Hugh saw. He hurried across the billiard-room to the glass door, kept himself in the shadows, and peered along the terrace. Fortunately, he was wearing a dark suit. The luminous dial of his wristwatch showed that it was half past nine. And he was a trifle surprised to find his heart beating heavily.
No wind now, but a cool moist air that smelt of grass and flowers. The moon was still low, but very bright; long shadows were close at hand, lawns dully gleaming, and a haze in the hollows of trees that sloped down towards the east. Half a mile away he could make out the lights of a bus passing along some unidentifiable road. A dog was barking faintly.
Along the terrace a window creaked open, letting out yellow light. Spinelli stepped out, pushing aside curtains, and closed the window behind him. He hesitated, and seemed to be staring up at the moon. Hugh could dimly see his face; he was smiling. The smile died. He looked sharply left and right; saw nothing, and seemed reassured. Leisurely he struck a match and lit a cigarette. Then he descended some shallow steps to the lawn, looked round again, and finally sauntered along below the terrace towards the direction in which Hugh was hiding. As he passed the door to the billiard-room, he was trying to read his watch by the moonlight, and humming, The Gay Caballero." His footsteps crunched on the gravel path.
Hugh was after him as he turned the corner of the house. Keeping to the grass border against the house, the pursuer was entirely in shadow, and could move soundlessly; though once he nearly tripped over a playful lawn mower. The crunching steps moved ahead, steadily and jauntily. As the driveway curved down through the avenue of elms towards the lodge gate, Hugh had to negotiate a broad patch of moonlight to cross the drive and duck into the shelter of the trees on the right hand side. He jumped the stretch of gravel and dodged behind a laurel bush. What he believed to be the absurdity of this performance began to grow on him. He liked it well enough, this crawling about wet lawns on the knees of your trousers, and peering round bushes as though you were playing I Spy. But you would look damned silly if anybody happened to see you.