again at sharpening his pencil, scowled. 'There had been a certain amount of trouble over her own marriage – and I think she experienced a fellow feeling.'
Susan asked with a certain amount of interest:
'She married an artist, didn't she, whom none of the family liked? Was he a good artist?'
Mr Entwhistle shook his head very decidedly.
'Are there any of his paintings in the cottage?'
'Yes.'
'Then I shall judge for myself,' said Susan.
Mr Entwhistle smiled at the resolute tilt of Susan's chin.
'So be it. Doubtless I am an old fogey and hopelessly old-fashioned in matters of art, but I really don't think you will dispute my verdict.'
'I suppose I ought to go down there, anyway? And look over what there is. Is there anybody there now?'
'I have arranged with Miss Gilchrist to remain there until further notice.'
Greg said: 'She must have a pretty good nerve – to stay in a cottage where a murder's been committed.'
'Miss Gilchrist is quite a sensible woman, I should say. Besides,' added the lawyer dryly, 'I don't think she has anywhere else to go until she gets another situation.'
'So Aunt Cora's death left her high and dry? Did she – were she and Aunt Cora – on intimate terms?'
Mr Entwhistle looked at her rather curiously, wondering just exactly what was in her mind.
'Moderately so, I imagine,' he said. 'She never treated Miss Gilchrist as a servant.'
'Treated her a damned sight worse, I dare say,' said Susan. 'These wretched so called 'ladies' are the ones who get it taken out of them nowadays. I'll try and find her a decent post somewhere. It won't be difficult. Anyone who's willing to do a bit of housework and cook is worth their weight in gold – she does cook, doesn't she?'
'Oh yes. I gather it is something she called, er, 'the rough' that she objected to. I'm afraid I don't quite know what 'the rough' is.'
Susan appeared to be a good deal amused.
Mr Entwhistle, glancing at his watch, said: 'Your aunt left Timothy her executor.'
'Timothy,' said Susan with scorn. 'Uncle Timothy is practically a myth. Nobody ever sees him.'
'Quite.' Mr Entwhistle glanced at his watch. 'I am travelling up to see him this afternoon. I will acquaint him with, your decision to go down to the cottage.'
'It will only take me a day or two, I imagine. I don't want to be long away from London. I've got various schemes in hand. I'm going into business.'
Mr Entwhistle looked round him at the cramped sitting-room of the tiny flat. Greg and Susan were evidently hard up. Her father, he knew, had run through most of his money. He had left his daughter badly off.
'What are your plans for the future, if I may ask?'
'I've got my eye on some premises in Cardigan Street. I suppose, if necessary, you can advance me some money? I may have to pay a deposit.'
'That can be managed,' said Mr Entwhistle. 'I rang you up the day after the funeral several times but could get no answer. I thought perhaps you might care for an advance. I wondered whether you might perhaps have gone out of Town.'
'Oh no,' said Susan quickly. 'We were in all day. Both of us. We didn't go out at all.'
Greg said gently: 'You know, Susan, I think our telephone must have been out of order that day. You remember how I couldn't get through to Hard and Co. in the afternoon. I meant to report it, but it was all right the next morning.'
'Telephones,' said Mr Entwhistle, 'can be very unreliable sometimes.'
Susan said suddenly:
'How did Aunt Cora know about our marriage? It was at a Registry Office and we didn't tell anyone until afterwards!'
'I fancy Richard may have told her about it. She remade her will about three weeks ago (it was formerly in favour of the Theosophical Society) – just about the time he had been down to see her.'
Susan looked startled.
'Did Uncle Richard go down to see her? I'd no idea of that?'
'I hadn't any idea of it myself,' said Mr Entwhistle.
'So that was when -'
'When what?'
'Nothing,' said Susan.
Chapter 6
I
'Very good of you to come along,' said Maude gruffly, as she greeted Mr Entwhistle on the platform of Bayham Compton station. 'I can assure you that both Timothy and I much appreciate it. Of course the truth is that Richard's death was the worst thing possible for Timothy.'
Mr Entwhistle had not yet considered his friend's death from this particular angle. But it was, he saw, the only angle from which Mrs Timothy Abernethie was likely to regard it.
As they proceeded towards the exit, Maude developed the theme.
'To begin with, it was a shock – Timothy was really very attached to Richard. And then unfortunately it put the idea of death into Timothy's head. Being such an invalid has made him rather nervous about himself. He realised that he was the only one of the brothers left alive – and he started saying that he'd be the next to go – and that it wouldn't be long now – all very morbid talk, as I told him.'
They emerged from the station and Maude led the way to a dilapidated car of almost fabulous antiquity.
'Sorry about our old rattletrap,' she said. 'We've wanted a new car for years, but really we couldn't afford it. This has had a new engine twice – and these old cars really stand up to a lot of hard work.
'I hope it will start,' she added. 'Sometimes one has to wind it.'
She pressed the starter several times but only a meaningless whirr resulted. Mr Entwhistle, who had never wound a car in his life, felt rather apprehensive, but Maude herself descended, inserted the starting handle and with a vigorous couple of turns woke the motor to life. It was fortunate, Mr Entwhistle reflected, that Maude was such a powerfully built woman.
'That's that,' she said. 'The old brute's been playing me up lately. Did it when I was coming back after the funeral. Had to walk a couple of miles to the nearest garage and they weren't good for much – just a village affair. I had to put up at the local inn while they tinkered at it. Of course that upset Timothy, too. I had to phone through to him and tell him I couldn't be back till the next day. Fussed him terribly. One tries to keep things from him as much as possible – but some things one can't do anything about – Cora's murder, for instance. I had to send for Dr Barton to give him a sedative. Things like murder are too much for a man in Timothy's state of health. I gather Cora was always a fool.'
Mr Entwhistle digested this remark in silence. The inference was not quite clear to him.
'I don't think I'd seen Cora since our marriage,' said Maude. 'I didn't like to say to Timothy at the time: 'Your youngest sister's batty,' not just like that. But it's what I thought. There she was saying the most extraordinary things! One didn't know whether to resent them or whether to laugh. I suppose the truth is she lived in a kind of imaginary world of her own – full of melodrama and fantastic ideas about other people. Well, poor soul, she's paid for it now. She didn't have any proteges, did she?'
