death being an accident. But he rejected this theory. Her death had been too fortunate.
Luke went into his car and drove it to the Pipeweel Garageon the other end of High Street. The car had some minor troubles that needed fixing. A young nice-looking mechanic listened courteously to him. Lifting the hood, they became both absorbed in a technical discussion.
A voice called: 'Jim, come here for a bit!'
The mechanic obeyed. Jim Harvey. That was it. Jim Harvey. Amy Gibbs' boyfriend. He came back soon, apologizing, and the talk became technical once more. Luke agreed to leaving his car. When he was about to say good-bye, he asked casually, 'Were you lucky at the Great Cup this year?'
'No sir. I placed my bet on Clarigold.'
'I wonder if many people put their money on Jujube II?'
'Actually no, sir. I even think some paper said she hadn't a chance.'
Luke shook his head.
'Horse races are a risky game. Did you go to see the Great Cup?'
'No, sir. I would have liked to. I had already had a day off this year. There were cheap return tickets to Epson, but the boss wouldn't even hear of it. To tell the truth, we were short-staffed and had a lot of work that day.'
'Luke said good-bye. He took Jim Harvey off his list. This nice-looking boy wasn't a murderer and hadn't run Lavinia Fullerton over.
He went home by the river. There, as had happened before, he met Major Horton and his dogs. The Major was still shouting: 'Augustus!… Nelly! Nelly!… Nero, Nero, Nero!' Again the protuberant eyes stared at Luke. But this time there was more to follow. Major Horton said, 'Excuse me, Mr. Fitzwilliam, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Horton here — Major Horton. Believe I'm going to meet you tomorrow up at the Manor. Tennis party. Miss Conway very kindly asked me. Cousin of yours, isn't she?'
'Yes.'
'Thought so. Soon spot a new face down here, you know.' Here a diversion occurred, the two bulldogs advancing upon a nondescript white mongrel. 'Augustus!… Nero! Come here, sir! Come here, I say!'
When Augustus and Nero had finally reluctantly obeyed the command, Major Horton returned to the conversation. Luke was patting Nelly, who was gazing up at him sentimentally.
'Nice bitch, that, isn't she?' said the Major. 'I like bulldogs. I've always had 'em. Prefer 'em to any other breed. My place is just near here, come in and have a drink.'
Luke accepted and the two men walked together while Major Horton held forth on the subject of dogs and the inferiority of all other breeds to that which he himself preferred. Luke heard of the prizes Nelly had won, of the infamous conduct of a judge in awarding Augustus merely a Highly Commended, and of the triumphs of Nero in the show ring.
By then they had turned in at the Major's gate. He opened the front door, which was not locked, and the two men passed into the house. Leading the way into a small, slightly doggy-smelling room lined with bookshelves, Major Horton busied himself with the drinks. Luke looked round him. There were photographs of dogs, copies of the Field and Country Life, and a couple of well-worn armchairs. Silver cups were arranged round the bookcases. There was one oil painting over the mantlepiece.
'My wife,' said the Major, looking up from the siphon and noting the direction of Luke's glance. 'Remarkable woman. A lot of character in her face, don't you think?'
'Yes, indeed,' said Luke, looking at the late Mrs. Horton. She was represented in a pink satin dress and was holding a bunch of lilies of the valley. Her brown hair was parted in the middle and her lips were pressed grimly together. Her eyes, of a cold gray, looked out ill-temperedly at the beholder.
'A remarkable woman,' said the Major, handing a glass to Luke. 'She died over a year ago. I haven't been the same man since.'
'No?' said Luke, a little at a loss to know what to say.
'Sit down,' said the Major, waving a hand toward one of the leather chairs. He himself took the other one and, sipping his whisky and soda, he went on: 'No, I haven't been the same man since.'
'You must miss her,' said Luke awkwardly.
Major Horton shook his head darkly.
'Fellow needs a wife to keep him up to scratch,' he said. 'Otherwise he gets slack — yes, slack. He lets himself go.'
'But surely –'
'My boy, I know what I'm talking about. Mind you, I'm not saying marriage doesn't come hard on a fellow at first. It does. Fellow says to himself, 'Damn it all,' he says, 'I can't call my soul my own!' But he gets broken in. It's all discipline.'
Luke thought that Major Horton's married life must have been more like a military campaign than an idyll of domestic bliss.
'Women,' soliloquized the Major, 'are a rum lot. It seems sometimes that there's no pleasing them. But, by jove, they keep a man up to the mark.' Luke preserved a respectful silence. 'You married?' inquired the Major.
'No.'
'Ah, well, you'll come to it. And mind you, my boy, there's nothing like it.'
'It's always cheering,' said Luke, 'to hear someone speak well of the marriage state. Especially in these days of easy divorce.'
'Pah!' said the Major. 'Young people make me sick. No stamina, no endurance. They can't stand anything. No fortitude!'
Luke itched to ask why such exceptional fortitude should be needed, but he controlled himself.
'Mind you,' said the major, ' Lydia was a woman in a thousand — in a thousand! Everyone here respected and looked up to her.'
'Yes?'
'She wouldn't stand any nonsense. She'd got a way of fixing a person with her eye, and the person wilted — just wilted. Some of these half-baked girls who call themselves servants nowadays. They think you'll put up with any insolence. Lydia soon showed them! Do you know, we had fifteen cooks and house-parlormaids in one year. Fifteen!'
Luke felt that this was hardly a tribute to Mrs. Norton's domestic management, but since it seemed to strike his host differently, he merely murmured some vague remark.
'Turned 'em out neck and crop, she did, if they didn't suit.'
'Was it always that way about?' asked Luke.
'Well, of course, a lot of them walked out on us. A good riddance — that's what Lydia used to say!'
'A fine spirit,' said Luke. 'But wasn't it sometimes rather awkward?'
'Oh, I didn't mind turning to and putting my hand to things,' said Horton. 'I'm a pretty fair cook and I can lay a fire with anyone. I've never cared for washing up, but of course it's got to be done; you can't get away from that.'
Luke agreed that you couldn't. He asked whether Mrs. Horton had been good at domestic work. 'I'm not the sort of fellow to let his wife wait on him,' said Major Horton. 'And anyway, Lydia was far too delicate to do any housework.'
'She wasn't strong then?'
Major Horton shook his head. 'She had wonderful spirit. She wouldn't give in. But what the woman suffered! And no sympathy from the doctors either. Doctors are callous brutes. They only understand downright physical pain. Anything out of the ordinary is beyond most of them. Humbleby, for instance; everyone seemed to think he was a good doctor.'
'You don't agree?'
'The man was an absolute ignoramus. Knew nothing of modern discoveries. Doubt if he'd ever heard of a neurosis! He understands measles and mumps and broken bones, all right, I suppose. But nothing else. Had a row with him in the end. He didn't understand Lydia 's case at all. I gave it to him straight from the shoulder and he didn't like it. Got huffed and backed right out. Said I could send for any other doctor I chose. After that, we had Thomas.'
