an infernal lie, of course, and I think I've stopped it going any further in that direction, but how many other . . .' Dr. Mitchell lowered his voice.
Ena, observed Roger pensively to himself, is Mrs. David Stratton.
He became aware of David Stratton's voice, unguardedly loud, on his other side.
'I tell you, Margot, I can't stand it much longer. I'm about at the end of my tether.'
'It's a damned shame, David,' his late sister - in - law replied warmly. 'You know what I thought about her. Ronald used to say I made things very awkward for him, but I couldn't help that. After that Eaves business I swore I'd never have her in any house of mine again, and I never did.'
'I know,' David Stratton rejoined gloomily. 'It was a bit awkward, for me as well as Ronald, but I couldn't blame you. After all, as I pointed out to her, you might have done a good deal more than refuse to receive her here if you'd been really vindictive.'
'That's what I told Ronald.'
Roger shifted in his chair.
'I wouldn't mind if there was an atom of truth in any of it,' said Dr. Mitchell, with sudden violence. 'But these damnable lies ...'
'I know. It's the way it takes her.'
'Personally,' broke in Jean Mitchell's small, clear voice, 'I don't see that it matters. Everyone must know they're lies. What I can't understand is why she wants to do it.'
'Oh, she's a pathological case, darling. There's no doubt about that. But really, Celia, something ought to be done about her. She's a danger to the community.'
'Yes. But what? That's the trouble.'
'I don't know, yet.' Dr. Mitchell folded his arms and looked, for a pleasant man, quite formidable. 'But I can promise you, she's going to be sorry she started monkeying with Jean. That's a little bit too much.'
Roger took a notebook out of his pocket and began jotting down names. Among so many strangers, with so many different relationships, he found it difficult to keep his head clear.
Still the other side did not appear. Only suppressed gigglings, and an occasional hoot of laughter outside the door, testified to their continued existence.
'But why don't you leave her, David?'
'Money, of course. If only I could afford to keep her apart from me, I'd do it like a shot.'
'Can't Ronald help at all?'
'No,' David Stratton was firm enough about that.
'It's damnable.' Margot Stratton stared ahead as if racking her brains for something that would help.
Celia Stratton turned to Roger.
'I quite forgot to ask you, Mr. Sheringham. Did you find everything in your room that you wanted?'
'Everything, thank you,' said Roger politely.
Roger's list of his fellow guests and hosts ran as follows:
Ronald Stratton ........ (Prince in Tower}
David Stratton ........( - ditto - )
Ena (Mrs. David) Stratton . (Mrs. Pearcey)
Celia Stratton ............ (Mary Blandy)
Margot (ex - Mrs. Ronald) Stratton
Mike Armstrong
Dr. Chalmers ... (Undiscovered Murderer)
Mrs. Chalmers ......... (Mrs. Maybrick)
Dr. Mitchell ........... (Jack the Ripper)
Mrs. Mitchell ........ (Madeleine Smith)
Mr. Williamson ........... (Dr. Crippen)
Mrs. Williamson ......... (Miss Le Neve)
Mrs. Lefroy .... (Marquise de Brinvilliers)
Colin Nicolson ........ (William Palmer)
These, Roger considered, comprised all Ronald Stratton's intimates, and seemed to fall into a group of their own. There were a dozen or so more people present, all from the neighbourhood, but they kept more or less to themselves, and Stratton did not try to mingle the two groups. The doctors of course were local men, and they formed something in the nature of a connecting link between the two lots. Roger had been told by Stratton that the local group would probably leave early, and the house party would then keep it up.
There were about half a dozen of the latter. The Williamsons, who lived in London, were staying the night, and so was Colin Nicolson, who was the assistant editor of a weekly paper for which Stratton did a good deal of work, and whom Roger had known and liked for some years. Mrs. Lefroy was staying too, and Celia Stratton had come down to act as hostess for her brother. Roger himself had also been asked for the night.
When the charades were over at last, Roger once more tried to effect contact between himself and Ena Stratton, and once again he was foiled. Ronald himself had swung his sister - in - law onto the floor, to set the dancing in train again. Glancing round in a baffled way, Roger saw that Agatha Lefroy was sitting alone on a couch at one end of the room, and he joined her.
'Do you mind if we don't dance?' he said. 'I used to be considered rather good before the war, but somehow the old zest seems to have gone.'
'Of course not,' Mrs. Lefroy smiled. 'Let's stop here. Anyhow, I'd much rather talk than dance. What shall we talk about?'
'Ena Stratton,' Roger said promptly.
He was hardly surprised when even Mrs. Lefroy reacted in the usual way to that name. Her smile did not waver, she did not start or turn pale, but precisely the same guarded air showed itself to Roger's observation as she replied, brightly enough:
'She interests you?'
'She does. Decidedly. And I haven't even met her yet. Tell me about her.'
'I don't know that there's much to tell you, is there? In what way, particularly?'
'Any way. I won't ask about her marriage, because you said that was a secret. Just tell me why you're afraid of her.'
'Afraid of her?' Mrs. Lefroy echoed indignantly. 'I'm not in the least afraid of her.'
'Yes, you are,' Roger said calmly. 'Why? - or shall I ask Ronald?'
'No, don't ask Ronald,' Mrs. Lefroy said quickly and added, rather inconsequently: 'Anyhow, he wouldn't tell you.'
'Nor will you?' said Roger, half lightly and half seriously.
'You're really rather inquisitive, Mr. Sheringham, aren't you?'
'Intolerably. I can't help it. You see, I scent a mystery and I can't bear mysteries.'
'Oh,' said Mrs. Lefroy slowly, 'there's no mystery about Ena.'
'And yet,' Roger hazarded, 'quite a number of people in this room cordially detest her.'
'I can quite believe it,' Mrs. Lefroy smiled. 'She's really rather a dangerous woman.'
'How can such a totally unimportant person be dangerous?' Roger asked, following the young woman in question round the room with his eyes. 'And yet you're the second person within the last half - hour whom I've heard call her that. I suppose I ought not to ask you what she's been doing to Dr. Mitchell, and yet I wish I could.'
'Oh, I'll tell you that. She's been spreading a ridiculous lie about his wife.'
'Why?'
Mrs. Lefroy shrugged her shoulders. 'She seems to enjoy doing that sort of thing.'
'Which sort of thing? Lying for lying's sake, or doing an inoffensive person a bad turn?'
'Neither, exactly. I think it's really an opportunity to make herself appear important. That's her idee fixe. She must be the centre of things, the wonder of all beholders. Philip Chalmers - Ronald's great friend, you know - says she's a pronounced ego - maniac. No doubt that's as good a term for her as any.'
'Williamson has a better one. He just says simply that she's mad.'
Mrs. Lefroy laughed. 'In a way, I suppose, she is. Anyhow, is that all you wanted to know?'
