The Old Silent

would.

'They'd have turned out to be Malcolms, every one.' The Major scooped up his egg. 'Doesn't come on as the motherly type, not to me. Why'd she take over the child? Doesn't seem to care much about her. As for catering to your tastes,' the Major went on as he jammed up a toast round. 'What taste? You scarcely eat anything.' He turned to Melrose. 'She will only eat what is quiet and needn't be cut.'

He called down to her: 'For God's sakes, come to your usual place and sit down.'

Her expression declared that this was the opening for a rejoinder she'd been dying to make. 'I am sitting down here, Mr. Plant, because I do like my morning cigarette. And it is beastly manners to smoke whilst others are eating. So I've been told.'

Sotto voce, the Major said, 'Oh, shut up.' Then to the Princess, he called again, 'We refuse to sit here and yell. I complained once, oncewhen you were smoking that cheroot. Come back to your usual chair.'

'Ah!' she exclaimed, rising. 'Thank you so much.'

Melrose smiled as she made her languid (and supposedly underfed) way down the table to the chair at the Major's left, which he had risen to hold out for her. The Major's sigh was huge and resigned; he reeked of martyrdom. Her thank you simply breathed of feigned deference, as did her paralytic smile at him as she slid into the magisterial chair.

'Now the one who fascinates me is the Braine woman. She's quite loopy, that one. Did you know she was on her way to Hadrian's Wall? She claims to be in touch with the Emperor Hadrian, which must be difficult as he's been dead for several centuries.' The Princess leaned closer to Melrose. 'Second sight is what she claims to have. Knew there'd be a murder near here, that's what turned up in her 'magnetic field.' She was 'drawn here' by some irresistible force.'

'Second sight so often turns out to be hindsight, I've found,' said Melrose. 'I imagine she predicts further trouble.'

Major Poges looked mildly surprised. 'She did. How'd you know?'

'I didn't. But isn't it always safe to predict further trouble? Won't there always be?'

'No wonder Malcolm's the little beast he is. They're off, she says, to meet Hadrian's spirit. Tomorrow. Noonish.' She nicked some ash onto a plate. 'And people think killers are crazy.'

'Is that what they're saying about this woman who killed her husband? I'd imagine there'd be a great deal of speculation there.'

'Speculation, yes. The family's very old, very county,' said the Major. 'I've met them. Well, him. Charles Citrine. Done a bit of shooting with him.'

'The Gun, here,' said the Princess, nodding toward Poges, 'has never brought back anything for our meager table.'

'Stop calling me that. Just because a fellow likes an early ramble on the moors and a bit of shooting-'

'His kill-to-cartridge ratio is about one to one thousand.'

Melrose smiled. 'This Charles Citrine-'

He was interrupted by Ruby's coming in with the tray, setting Melrose's porridge and tea before him and the hot water before the Major. She then set about collecting the dirty dishes as if she were nicking them. For some time she held a goblet before her with an abstracted air, frowning at its blood-red glass, then quickly set it on the tray and picked up a plate with several mutton-chop bones on it and nearly ran from the room.

'Is she always like that?' asked Melrose, plugging a large square of butter into the center of his porridge and watching the melting rivulets trickle off.

'She's a goose. Pay no attention to her,' said the Major, digging in the jar of marmalade.

'I hadn't thought of the porridge,' said the Princess, leaning to get a better look at Melrose's bowl.

Major Poges looked up sharply. 'Don't give it to her. She's right onto it, Mr. Plant, but don't give it to her.' To the Princess he said, 'If you want porridge, ask for porridge.' He slammed down the marmalade pot.

A delicate ribbon of smoke trailed upward as she said, 'One can't keep the kitchen open all day, Major.'

'Ha! Then have a boiled egg.' He shoved the silver dish toward her.

The Princess reared back slightly, her mouth in a moue.

'If you want to waste your time tapping and cracking and peeling, go ahead. And then one nearly has to carve round the white to get it out as if one were a sculptor. No, thank you. You don't seem to be having such a fine time with yours.' She leaned closer to his plate. 'Look at all of the tiny bits of shell-'

'You're the laziest damned woman I know.' He put down his spoon and snapped his paper open, back half-turned to her. But he wasn't finished with his recital. To Melrose, he said, 'Nearly everything is too much trouble for her to eat.' Secretively, he leaned toward Melrose as if the Princess weren't there. 'Do you know what she dined on last night? A plate of creamed potatoes, mashed swede, and one forkful of peas. One!' He held up his index finger.

The Princess stuck out her tongue at his back, then rested her chin across the back of her hands in an artfully contrived pose. 'One can hardly eat peas after they've left the heap, can one? I'm not about to chase them.'

Major Poges nearly buried his face in his crushed paper. 'When we were in London once I made the mistake of suggesting we dine at Wheeler's. Is there anyone who thinks Dover sole is hard to eat?'

'Yes. They never fillet anything properly. There's always the odd bone large enough to drive through the heart of Dracula.' She sipped her coffee and inhaled deeply.

Melrose wondered if he were to be forever reminded of Vivian's upcoming marriage.

The Princess sighed. 'The only implements one needs are a blender and a Cuisinart. That's all I have in my kitchen.'

'Kitchen?' Major Poges looked up from his newspaper to stare at her. 'What kitchen?'

'Major, you know I have a house in London.'

He shrugged and went back to his search of the paper. 'Oh, that. Surely, the kitchen was boarded up long ago. Ah, here's an item. You wouldn't think they'd be burying this killing at the inn toward the back of the paper, would you? I expect it's because there's nothing new. They've merely taken the old stuff and given it a good shaking.'

The Princess stubbed out her cigarette and laced her hands beneath her chin again. 'I find it very interesting that the accounts go on and on about the husband's marvelous reputation. And his 'courageous' refusal to pay the ransom all those years ago. It's as if shewere straight out of it. The few times I've spoken with her, Mrs. Healey struck me as rather reserved, but certainly not a stick, and certainly not without a bit of steel in her spine.'

Melrose finished his tea. 'It sounds as if you're a little suspicious of the husband.'

'Good heavens, I question anyone who is reputed to be flawless. Anyway, it sounds chauvinistic, the courageous husband and the wife who was apparently struck by the vapors. It was as if she had nothing to say in the whole matter. Well, she finally said it, didn't she?'

'A person'd think you approved of what she did.' The Major folded his paper, fanwise.

'Oh, I do. So dramatic. No sneaking about trying to pick him off in a dark alleyway. Her solicitors would have to be idiots not to get her off.'

'Get her off? The woman killed him in plain sight of a detective.'

She answered the Major but looked at Melrose. 'That makes no difference. It's the motive. The man refused to pay that ransom.' She waved another cigarette in Melrose's direction.

Melrose lit it for her and said, 'That wouldn't stick, would it? Had she done it right after, or six months later, or even a year, I imagine they could plead extreme depression.'

The Princess rose, gathering up her cigarette case. 'I wasn't aware there was a statute of limitations on despair, Mr. Plant. It's snowing again. There goes my afternoon in Leeds. Will you be dining with us? I surely hope so. It does make a change.' The flowery scent trailed behind her as she left the room.

Grumpily, Major Poges watched her go. 'Damned woman. Gets the last word in, you can be sure of that. Well, I'm for a walk. Snow or no snow. Care to join me? Mr. Plant?'