Dinah, obedient to a signal from Stephen Guest, who had been watching Fay with a troubled frown, turned her head, saw her sister's look of exhaustion, and promptly went to the rescue. "What is this club that Fay's going to lecture to, Mrs. Chudleigh?" she inquired, sitting down in Fay's vacated chair. "I'd no idea she could lecture!"
She listened to Mrs. Chudleigh's explanation with an air of intelligent interest, and heard not one word of it. Basil Halliday had just come out of the billiard-room, and was approaching the group with his hands thrust into his coat pockets, and his lined face rather pale and so. He jerked a bow to Mrs. Twining, and sat down near to her. Dinah saw him look at his wife for an instant, and then away again.
"I wondered what had become of you," Camilla remarked.
"I've been indoors," he said curtly.
Heavens, what a party! thought Dinah. It only needs Geoffrey doing his highly-strung act to make it complete. Even Lola would be a relief.
Stephen Guest was feeling in his pockets. Halliday said mechanically: "Tobacco? I've got some."
Guest got up, shaking his head. "Thanks, I think I'll fetch my own, if you don't mind." He went into the house, and Dinah thought, with an inward grin: Getting too much for poor old Stephen; really, it's more like a home for mental cases than a house-party.
Mrs. Chudleigh's voice recalled her wandering attention. "Your sister looks far from well, Miss Fawcett."
"Anyone who had to live with my brother-in-law would look far from well," said Dinah with incorrigible outspokenness.
"The General is not an easy man to manage, of course. Naturally we all know that. I am afraid this distressing affair of Geoffrey's has been too much for your sister."
"Well," said Dinah, of intent, "it's a fairly rotten position for her, isn't it? Geoffrey isn't her son, and she can't do anything to stop Arthur disowning him, and everybody who doesn't know her — not people like you, of course — will at once think that she's been doing the wicked stepmother."
"It is a pity," said Mrs. Chudleigh, "that Lady Billington-Smith is so much younger than the General."
"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.