Everybody was respectfully silent, though it seemed to be hovering on Patrick's lips to ask if anyone really wanted a plain boiled pudding.
'Got a new gardener?' asked Miss Hinchliffe of Miss Blacklog as they returned to the drawing-room.
'No, why?'
'Saw a man snooping round the hen-house. Quite a decent-looking Army type.'
'Oh, that,' said Julia. 'That's our detective.'
Mrs. Easterbrook dropped her handbag.
'Detective?' she exclaimed. 'But-but-why?'
'I don't know,' said Julia. 'He prowls about and keeps an eye on the house. He's protecting Aunt Letty, I suppose.'
'Absolute nonsense,' said Miss Blacklog. 'I can protect myself, thank you.'
'But surely it's all over now,' cried Mrs. Easterbrook. 'Though I meant to ask you, why did they adjourn the inquest?'
'Police aren't satisfied,' said her husband. 'That's what that means.'
'But aren't satisfied of what?'
Colonel Easterbrook shook his head – with the air of a man who could say a good deal more if he chose.
Edmund, who disliked the Colonel, said, 'The truth of it is, we're all under suspicion.'
'But suspicion of what?' repeated Mrs. Easterbrook.
'Never mind, kitten,' said her husband.
'Loitering with intent,' said Edmund. 'The intent being to commit murder upon the first opportunity.'
'Oh, don't, please don't, Mr. Swettenham.' Dora Bunner began to cry. 'I'm sure nobody here could possibly want to kill dear, dear Letty.'
There was a moment of horrible embarrassment. Edmund turned scarlet, murmured, 'Just a joke.' Phillipa suggested in a high clear voice that they might listen to the six o'clock news and the suggestion was received with enthusiastic assent.
Patrick murmured to Julia: 'We need Mrs. Harmon here. She'd be sure to say in that high clear voice of hers, 'But I suppose somebody is still waiting for a good chance to murder you, Miss Blacklog?''
'I'm glad she and that old Miss Marple couldn't come,' said Julia. 'That old woman is the prying kind. And a mind like a sink, I should think. Real Victorian type.'
Listening to the news led easily into a pleasant discussion on the horrors of atomic warfare. Colonel Easterbrook said that the real menace to civilization was undoubtedly Russia, and Edmund said that he had several charming Russian friends – which announcement was coldly received.
The party broke up with renewed thanks to the hostess.
'Enjoy yourself, Bunny?' asked Miss Blacklog, as the last guest was sped.
'Oh, I did. But I've got a terrible headache. It's the excitement, I think.'
'It's the cake,' said Patrick. 'I feel a bit liverish myself. And you've been nibbling chocolates all the morning.'
'I'll go and lie down, I think,' said Miss Bunner. 'I'll take a couple of aspirins and try and have a nice sleep.'
'That would be a very good plan,' said Miss Blacklog.
Miss Bunner departed upstairs.
'Shall I shut up the ducks for you, Aunt Letty?'
Miss Blacklog looked at Patrick severely.
'If you'll be sure to latch that door properly.'
'I will. I swear I will.'
'Have a glass of sherry, Aunt Letty,' said Julia. 'As my old nurse used to say, 'It will settle your stomach.' A revolting phrase – but curiously apposite at this moment.'
'Well, I dare say it might be a good thing. The truth is one isn't used to rich things. Oh, Bunny, how you made me jump. What is it?'
'I can't find my aspirin,' said Miss Bunner disconsolately.
'Well, take some of mine, dear, they're by my bed.'
'There's a bottle on my dressing-table,' said Phillipa.
'Thank you – thank you very much. If I can't find mine – but I know I've got it somewhere. A new bottle. Now where could I have put it?'
'There's heaps in the bathroom,' said Julia impatiently. 'This house is chock full of aspirin.'
'It vexes me to be so careless and mislay things,' replied Miss Bunner, retreating up the stairs again.
'Poor old Bunny,' said Julia, holding up her glass. 'Do you think we ought to have given her some sherry?'
'Better not, I think,' said Miss Blacklog. 'She had a lot of excitement today, and it isn't really good for her. I'm afraid she'll be the worse for it tomorrow. Still, I really do think she has enjoyed herself!'
'She's loved it,' said Phillipa.
'Let's give Mitzi a glass of sherry,' suggested Julia.
'Hi, Pat,' she called as she heard him entering the side door, 'fetch Mitzi.'
So Mitzi was brought in and Julia poured her out a glass of sherry.
'Here's to the best cook in the world,' said Patrick.
Mitzi was gratified – but felt nevertheless that a protest was due.
'That is not so. I am not really a cook. In my country I do intellectual work.'
'Then you're wasted,' said Patrick. 'What's intellectual work compared to a chef d'oeuvre like Delicious Death?'
'Oo – I say to you I do not like-'
'Never mind what you like, my girl,' said Patrick. 'That's my name for it and here's to it. Let's all drink to Delicious Death and to hell with the aftereffects.'
III
'Phillipa, my dear, I want to talk to you.'
'Yes, Miss Blacklog?'
Phillipa Haymes looked up in slight surprise.
'You're not worrying about anything, are you?'
'Worrying?'
'I've noticed that you've looked worried lately. There isn't anything wrong, is there?'
'Oh no, Miss Blacklog. What should there be?'
'Well – I wondered. I thought, perhaps, that you and Patrick?'
'Patrick?' Phillipa looked really surprised.
'It's not so, then. Please forgive me if I've been impertinent. But you've been thrown together a lot and although Patrick is my cousin, I don't think he's the type to make a satisfactory husband. Not for some time to come, at all events.'
Phillipa's face had frozen into a hard immobility.
'I shan't marry again,' she said.
'Oh, yes, you will someday, my child. You're young. But we needn't discuss that. There's no other trouble? You're not worried about – money, for instance?'
'No, I'm quite all right.'
'I know you get anxious sometimes about your boy's education. That's why I want to tell you something. I drove into Milchester this afternoon to see Mr. Beddingfeld, my lawyer. Things haven't been very settled lately and I thought I would like to make a new will – in view of certain eventualities. Apart from Bunny's legacy, everything goes to you, Phillipa.'
