“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, clutching Alec’s arm and pointing with an excited finger. “Look! They’ve gone, both of them! They’ve been smoothed out!”
“Great Scott, so they have!”
The two gazed at each other with wide eyes.
“So Jefferson did hear what we were talking about!” Roger almost whispered. “I have an idea that things are going to get rather exciting very soon, after all.”
XVII
Mr. Grierson Becomes Heated
But however much Jefferson might guess of their activities, certainly nothing was visible in his manner as Roger and Alec entered the drawing room, twenty minutes late for tea. He greeted them in his usual curt, rather brusque way, and asked casually how they had managed to amuse themselves. Lady Stanworth was not present, and Mrs. Plant was seated behind the tea tray.
“Oh, we went for a stroll through the village; but it was too hot to be pleasant. Thanks, Mrs. Plant. Yes, milk and sugar, please. Two lumps. You got through your business in Elchester all right? I saw you starting.”
“Yes. Got off infernally late. Had to rush things. However, I managed to get everything done all right.”
“Have they arranged about the inquest yet, by the way?” Alec asked suddenly.
“Yes. Tomorrow morning at eleven, here.”
“Oh, they’re going to hold it here, are they?” said Roger. “Which room will you put them in? The library?”
“No. I think the morning room’s better.”
“Yes, I think it is.”
“Oh, I do wish it were over!” Mrs. Plant remarked with an involuntary sigh.
“You don’t seem to be looking forward to the ordeal,” Roger said quickly, with a slight smile.
“I hate the idea of giving evidence,” Mrs. Plant replied, almost passionately. “It’s horrible!”
“Oh, come. It isn’t as bad as all that. It’s not like a law case, you know. There’ll be no cross-examination, or anything like that. The proceedings will be purely formal, I take it, eh, Jefferson?”
“Purely,” Jefferson said, lighting a cigarette with deliberation. “Don’t suppose the whole thing will last more than twenty minutes.”
“So you see there won’t be anything very dreadful in it, Mrs. Plant. May I have another cup of tea, please?”
“Well, I wish it were over; that’s all,” Mrs. Plant said with a nervous little laugh, and Roger noticed that the hand which held his cup shook slightly.
Jefferson rose to his feet.
“Afraid I shall have to leave you chaps to your own resources again,” he remarked abruptly. “Lady Stanworth hopes you’ll do whatever you like. Sorry to appear so inhospitable, but you know what things are like at this sort of time.”
He walked out of the room.
Roger decided to put out a small feeler.
“Jefferson doesn’t seem extraordinarily upset really, does he?” he said to Mrs. Plant. “Yet it must be rather a shock to lose an employer, with whom one’s been so many years, in this tragic way.”
Mrs. Plant glanced at him, as if rather questioning the good taste of this remark. “I don’t think Major Jefferson is the sort of man to show his real feelings before comparative strangers, do you, Mr. Sheringham?” she replied a little stiffly.
“Probably not,” Roger replied easily. “But he seems singularly unperturbed about it all.”
“He is a very imperturbable sort of person, I imagine.”
Roger tried another tack. “Had you known Mr. Stanworth long, Mrs. Plant?” he asked conversationally, leaning back in his chair and pulling his pipe out of his pocket. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”
“Please do. Oh, no; not very long. My—my husband knew him, you know.”
“I see. A curious habit that of his, asking comparative, or, in my case at any rate, complete strangers down to these little gatherings, wasn’t it?”
“I think Mr. Stanworth was a very hospitable man,” Mrs. Plant replied tonelessly.
“Very! A most excellent fellow in every way, didn’t you think?” Roger asked with enthusiasm.
“Oh, most,” said Mrs. Plant in a curiously flat voice.
Roger glanced at her shrewdly. “You don’t agree with me, Mrs. Plant?” he said suddenly.
Mrs. Plant started.
“I?” she said hurriedly. “Why, of course I do. I thought Mr. Stanworth a—a very nice man indeed. Charming! Of course I agree with you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought for the moment that you didn’t seem very enthusiastic about him. No earthly reason why you should be, of course. Everybody has their likes and dislikes, don’t they?”
Mrs. Plant glanced quickly at Roger, and then looked out of the window. “I was simply thinking how—how tragic the whole thing is,” she said in a low voice.
There was a short silence.
“Lady Stanworth didn’t seem to be on very good terms with him, though, did she?” Roger remarked carelessly, prodding at the tobacco in his pipe with a match-stalk.
“Do you think so?” Mrs. Plant returned guardedly.
“She certainly gave me that impression. In fact, I should have gone farther. I should have said that she positively disliked him.”
Mrs. Plant looked at the speaker with distaste. “There are secrets in every household, I suppose,” she said shortly. “Don’t you think that it is a little impertinent for outsiders to probe into them? Especially under circumstances like these.”
“That’s one for me,” Roger smiled, quite unabashed. “Yes, I suppose it is, Mrs. Plant. The trouble is, you see, that I simply can’t help it. I’m the most curious person alive. Everything interests me, especially every human thing, and I’ve just got to get to the bottom of it. And you must admit that the relations between Lady Stanworth, of all people, and the—shall we say?—somewhat plebeian Mr. Stanworth, are uncommonly interesting to a novelist.”
“Everything is ‘copy’ to you, you mean?” Mrs. Plant retorted, though less uncompromisingly. “Well, if you put it like that I suppose you may have a certain amount of reason; though I don’t admit the justification for all that. Yes, I believe Lady Stanworth did not get on very well with her brother-in-law. After all, it’s only
