The Skeleton in the Clock

Ricky's good-natured charm had worked, aided by the fact that he seized each by one arm. So they stood there, with their backs to the high glimmering-coloured books in the tall shelves, facing the group by the white marble mantelpiece across the room.

Grandmother Brayle had been at her haughtiest—'1 think I have met Captain Drake—' during the few sketchy introductions. Today she wore heavy horsy tweeds, her grey-white hair without a hat. Without a flicker towards H.M., she looked steadily across and up at her own reflection in a mirror over the fireplace, and (incidentally) over the other group's heads as she faced them. It was H.M. who broke the thick silence.

' 'Lo, Sophie,' he volunteered with surprising meekness.

'Good evening, Henry.'

'Nice weather we're bavin', ain't it?'

'That,' murmured Lady Brayle, 'is not altogether unexpected in July.'

The length of the broad desk, with its inkpot and blue quill pen, separated them as though a leprous touch might be infected.

'Y’know, Sophie, we've been on speaking-terms for a good many years.'

'Are you trying to appeal to my sentimentality, Henry? How amusing!'

'I say, though. Do you remember the night I took you to see Lewis Waller play Beaucaire at the old Imperial Theatre?'

'Please don't be ridiculous. Besides,' Lady Brayle added suddenly, 'your behaviour in that hansom was so utterly disgusting that…'

H.M.'was stung. 'Burn it, Sophie, I only put my hand—'

'It will not be necessary to go into details.'

'But you didn't tell your old man so he'd come whistlin' after me with a horse-whip, which you said you were goin' to. What I mean: you were an A-l sport in those days. Now you've turned into—' H.M. swung round. 'Sophie, will you believe me if I tell you that honest-to-God I'm trying to help you? And your family?'

Lady Brayle hiccoughed with mirth. 'When, yesterday, you…’

'But I didn't know I was buying the clock, did I?'

'You must excuse me,' the other said crisply. 'I was summoned here by an urgent phone-call from Cicely Fleet I do not know why. I—'

'Do you want the clock back?'

What effect this conversation was having on Ruth, Stannard, and Ricky, who were gathered with him beside the round table with the map, Martin could not tell. Ricky, he quite accurately guessed, had been told nothing about any attempt to buy a clock; and the water grew deeper. But Stannard, as a detached and sardonic observer of human life, sat down in the tapestry chair and, with pleasure, placed his fingertips together.

'Your behaviour yesterday,' announced Lady Brayle, 'was so despicable! So puerile! So childish—'

'Sure. Do you want the clock back?'

'Really, Henry.' Lady Brayle seemed bewildered. 'I have no interest whatever in the clock, except that I was asked to bid for it as a present for young Dr. Laurier.' Her mouth tightened amid wrinkles. 'And I should never allow Cicely to pay any such ridiculous price as…'

'Oh, Sophie! I'm not selling anything. It's yours if you answer me a few questions.'

The other stared at him. 'Questions? What questions?'

'Well,' he said argumentatlvely, 'when was the date you got that Willaby catalogue of the auction on Friday?'

'Really, Henry, I don't see—'

'I know you don't That's because I'm the old man. Date?'

'Everybody knows,' retorted Jenny's grandmother, 'that Willaby's post their catalogues from London just a week before the sale. I must have received mine,' she computed, 'on July 5th.'

'That's what I thought But I had to be sure. Who else in this district subscribes to a Willaby catalogue?'

'Cicely, of course. And I think young Dr. Laurier. He is interested in arms and armour.'

'What about Arthur Puckston, over at the Dragon's Rest?'

The wrinkles round Lady Brayie's mouth deepened, as though she were about to say she had no interest whatever in the Dragon's Rest But human curiosity, it appeared, would not be stifled.

'Incongruous as it seems,' she conceded, 'Puckston does.

He is… one of our fine old yeomen. He is not well off, as few of us are; but be wants genuine antiques for his inn.'

'Uh-huh. It was a possibility. I see…'

Aunt Cicely herself, in what seemed to Martin some informal pinkish robe with lace over it, interrupted them men. Her entrance was flurried and apologetic, but with such real charm that it seemed to lighten the chill of Fleet House. Though she had perhaps a trick of archness and rapid speech, not quite in keeping with her faded beauty, the personality triumphed.

Ricky sprang forward.

'Mother, I want to present—'

'Of course. How delightful of you all to come!' smiled Aunt Cicely, sweeping aside introductions, new ones or forgotten ones, by giving each of them a look of such pleasure that they all felt warmed.

'You must forgive me,' she raced on, 'for popping in here, like a cuckoo out of a clock, and not even dressed. But I do so want to have a word with Sophia, and she didn't come upstairs.'

Lady Brayle seemed anxious to forget what she and H.M. had been talking about

'We were merely discussing,' said Jenny's grandmother, plucking a subject out of the air, 'Dr. Lauder's interest in arms and armour. Come to think of it yesterday in the arms-room I saw a shield and a fine old English blade which I thought of commissioning someone to buy as a present'

Sudden horror showed in Aunt Cicely's eyes, an expression which startled Martin Drake until he imagined it was one of her exaggerations.

'But you must never…!' she cried. And them 'Oh, dear, what am I saying? Dr. Laurier is so conservative that it really doesn't matter. Do come and talk to me.'

They went. Yet not without a parting shot from the Dowager Countess as she turned at the door.

'Captain Drake,' she said.

(Martin thought shall I let them have it now, both of them? About Jenny and me? Ricky probably wouldn't mind. But the old dragon undoubtedly knows or guesses already; whereas Aunt Cicely would sob and call for sal volatile. Better hold your fire until you can blast the old dragon).

'Yes?' he said.

'Without doubt' said Jenny's grandmother, 'you were thinking of telephoning to the Manor?' 'I was thinking of doing just that'

'When you ring,' said Lady Brayle imperturbably, 'you will be told that Jennifer is not at home. This, of course, you will disbelieve. Yet it happens to be true. I tell you so to save you trouble.'

Fear, irrepressible however you tried, began to crawl through Martin.

'I pass no comment,' said Lady Brayle, 'on what does not concern me. Still, When Jennifer left the inn, I believe you were rushing in a somewhat frenzied manner across the road. You were calling the name of a young lady whom — all — I think I have met in the past as well as today.'

The old dragon's eyes seemed deliberately to seek Ruth without finding her. Martin, with a sick sensation, felt the props kicked out from under him.

'Jennifer, no doubt for some good reason, wished to visit some friends in London. Their address would not interest you. She left for the train in one taxi, while I came here in another.'

Now, as Lady Brayle looked very hard at his own imperturbability, there was a grudging respect in her tone.

'Captain Drake, I have little respect for law. I would cheerfully steal and if necessary I would kill. But I am not a liar. Good-day.'

Her flat-heeled footsteps, and Aunt Cicely's light ones, faded away. Stannard still sat motionless, watching the scene with less than amusement behind the pyramid of his finger-tips. Ruth kept one hand pressed to her breast, watching Martin. It was Ricky who spoke.