Death of a Delft Blue

about. They’ve a couple of very decent courts, one grass, one hard, at that place of theirs. Have you ever played on them?’

‘No,’ said Laura. ‘We’re not on those sort of terms — at least, not at present. You say you met her brother?’

‘Friend of yours?’

‘Goodness, no!’

‘Oh, then I can say what I think; and what I think is that Brother Florian is a wart. He cheats in the scoring, too — always saying a ball is out when it isn’t, and calling forty-fifteen in his own favour instead of an obvious thirty all. And he tries to get people to lend him money, I was told. But I can’t swear to that, because he’s never tried me for a touch. Knows I haven’t got any money, I suppose. He can find out that sort of thing, I think.’

‘Yes, I expect he can,’ said Laura. ‘Did you meet Mr van Zestien?’

‘Yes, Binnie invited my sister and me to tea one afternoon after tennis. Nice old chap I thought him — very starchy, in a way, but nice. It’s a fabulous place they’ve got there, isn’t it? Not Buckling or Holkham, of course, but very impressive, all the same.’

Laura looked at her watch.

‘I’m ready for breakfast,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ the boy agreed. ‘Tell you what I usually do. I leave the boat here — it’s an awful business beating up against an ebb tide because you can’t do much about tacking in the creek, it’s so narrow. Then I walk back across the marshes — you have to paddle here and there because there are streams, but it’s all perfectly safe — and come back the same way when the tide’s on the make again and I can pick up the boat and come up the creek.’

‘Did you enjoy your bird-watching?’ Dame Beatrice enquired, over a rather late breakfast. Laura described her outing and added that an independent witness had confirmed her own impressions of Florian, Binnie and old Mr van Zestien. Dame Beatrice listened attentively and nodded solemnly several times.

‘It was while strolling along the causeway over these marshes that I had my interesting and illuminating talk with Miss Opal Colwyn-Welch, of course,’ she said. They inspected the church and explored what there was of the village, had coffee at eleven on the first-floor balcony of the hotel, lunched at half-past one and then had the car brought round to be driven to Leyden Hall.

Old Bernard van Zestien was taking his afternoon nap when they arrived. The servant who opened the door recognised Dame Beatrice as one of the people who had visited the house before and made no difficulty about showing them into the library.

There was no difficulty, either, in estimating the warmth of Binnie’s welcome. She was delighted to see them. She gushed, (to Laura’s irritation) but, to Dame Beatrice’s more experienced and less prejudiced view, with genuine relief when they were shown in.

‘Oh, gosh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Never were callers more welcome! You’ll stay the night, of course! We’re got lots of spare bedrooms. What about tea? Or you could have some sherry or something. Just say what you’d like. Of course, ever since I met darling Laura in Holland, I’ve adored every minute I’ve been with her, so you really must stay a good long time. Granduncle will adore to have you!’

‘I am not at all sure…’ Dame Beatrice began. Binnie burst in, as Dame Beatrice had known she would.

‘Oh, but I am!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am quite sure he will, and I know I’m thankful to see you! I don’t know what to make of Florian, or, (for the matter of that), grand-uncle. They both know something I don’t know, and, between them, they’re worrying me silly.’

‘What sort of thing?’ Dame Beatrice enquired.

‘Florian killed those two women,’ said Binnie, in restrained and reasonable tones. ‘I know he did, although he hasn’t exactly told me so. I don’t suppose he meant to, but, even if he did, I’m not going to give evidence against him.’

‘Of course not. Nobody would expect it. For one thing, you do not know anything definite about what happened, and therefore your evidence would be valueless.’

‘Aunt Ruby put that lump of polish on the stairs, you know,’ said Binnie, changing the subject with some suddenness.

‘Yes, that was fairly obvious,’ Dame Beatrice agreed. ‘However, nothing much came of it, except a nasty bump on your brother’s head.’

‘She wanted to get rid of him before Aunt Opal could have the bust made and the hand painted! They’re supposed to be fond of one another, but they’re not!’

‘We understand that. These situations are not uncommon between thwarted sisters. Tell us more about the fact that your grandmother, Mrs Colwyn-Welch, agreed to pay for the portrait-bust and the painting of the hand holding the hyacinth.’

‘It’s easy enough,’ said Binnie. ‘She’s got a guilty conscience about those aunts of mine. You see, old Grandpa Colwyn-Welch left a fair amount of money, (so I’m told), and it was all left to her, but in trust, or something, for the aunts. Well, she’s just simply kept her hooks on it, and that means she’s kept Opal and Ruby in her power. Of course, you can’t blame her, in a way. She doesn’t want to lose them, so the only thing is to keep them so short of cash that they can’t leave home. If they’d been a bit younger they might have got jobs, but, from what I know of them, Opal would have been too lazy and Ruby too feeble to hold a job down, and Binnen knew that. All the same, what between her guilty conscience and her fear of Opal…’

‘Her fear of Opal?’ asked Dame Beatrice, as the narrator paused.

‘Well, wouldn’t you be scared of Opal? I am,’ said Binnie earnestly.

‘What about the barrel-organ?’ asked Dame Beatrice, who had her own methods of changing — or appearing to change — the subject.

‘Oh, Aunt Ruby knew enough about you to realise that she’d better buy and destroy that cylinder which included The Flowers of the Forest. She and Aunt Opal are very queer characters, you