gangsters executing each other with tommyguns. I am so thankful that we have nothing of that kind in England . And so, as I say, I put in her reference that Betty Archdale thoroughly understood her duties as parlourmaid and was sober and honest, but that she was inclined to have too many breakages and was not always respectful in her manner. And personally, if I had been Mrs Rees-Talbot, I should have read between the lines and not engaged her. But people nowadays just jump at anything they can get, and will sometimes take a girl who has only stayed her month in three places running.'
Whilst Mrs Drake paused to take breath, Colonel Race asked quickly whether that was Mrs Richard Rees- Talbot? If so, he had known her, he said, in India .
'I really couldn't say. Cadogan Square was the address.'
'Then it is my friends.'
Lucilla said that the world was such a small place, wasn't it? And that there were no friends like old friends. Friendship was a wonderful thing. She had always thought it had been so romantic about Viola and Paul. Dear Viola, she had been a lovely girl, and so many men in love with her, but, oh dear, Colonel Race wouldn't even know who she was talking about. One did so tend to relive the past.
Colonel Race begged her to go on and in return for this politeness received the life history of Hector Marle, of his upbringing by his sister, of his peculiarities and his weaknesses and finally, when Colonel Race had almost forgotten her, of his marriage to the beautiful Viola. 'She was an orphan, you know, and a ward in Chancery.' He heard how Paul Bennett, conquering his disappointment at Viola's refusal, had transformed himself from lover to family friend, and of his fondness for his godchild, Rosemary, and of his death and the terms of his will. 'Which I have always felt most romantic – such an enormous fortune! Not of course that money is everything – no, indeed. One has only to think of poor Rosemary's tragic death. And even dear Iris I am not quite happy about!' Race gave her an inquiring look.
'I find the responsibility most worrying. The fact that she is a great heiress is of course well known. I keep a very sharp eye on the undesirable type of young man, but what can one do, Colonel Race! One can't look after girls nowadays as one used to do. Iris has friends I know next to nothing about. 'Ask them to the house, dear,' is what I always say – but I gather that some of these young men simply will not be brought. Poor George was worried, too. About a young man called Browne. I myself have never seen him, but it seems that he and Iris have been seeing a good deal of each other. And one does feel that she could do better. George didn't like him – I'm quite sure of that. And I always think, Colonel Race, that men are so much better judges of other men. I remember thinking Colonel Pusey, one of our churchwardens, such a charming man, but my husband always preserved a very distant attitude towards him and enjoined on me to do the same – and sure enough one Sunday when he was handing round the offertory plate, he fell right down – completely intoxicated, it seems. And of course afterwards – one always hears these things afterwards, so much better if one heard them before – we found out that dozens of empty brandy bottles were taken out of the house every week! It was very sad really, because he was truly religious, though inclined to be Evangelical in his views. He and my husband had a terrific battle over the details of the service on All Saints' Day. Oh, dear. All Saints' Day. To think that yesterday was All Souls' Day.'
A faint sound made Race look over Lucilla's head at the open doorway. He had seen Iris before – at Little Priors. Nevertheless he felt that he was seeing her now for the first time. He was struck by the extraordinary tension behind her stillness and her wide eyes met his with something in their expression that he felt he ought to recognise, yet failed to do so.
In her turn, Lucilla Drake turned her head.
'Iris, dear, I didn't hear you come in. You know Colonel Race? He is being so very kind.'
Iris came and shook hands with him gravely, the black dress she wore made her look thinner and paler than he remembered her.
'I came to see if I could be of any help to you,' said Race.
'Thank you. That was kind of you.'
She had had a bad shock, that was evident, and was still suffering from the effects of it. But had she been so fond of George that his death could affect her so powerfully?
She turned her eyes to her aunt and Race realised that they were watchful eyes. She said:
'What were you talking about – just now, as I came in?'
Lucilla became pink and flustered. Race guessed that she was anxious to avoid any mention of the young man, Anthony Browne.
She exclaimed: 'Now let me see – oh, yes. All Saints' Day – and yesterday being All Souls'. All Souls' – that seems to me such an odd thing – one of those coincidences one never believes in in real life.'
'Do you mean,' said Iris, 'that Rosemary came back yesterday to fetch George?'
Lucilla gave a little scream.
'Iris, dear, don't. What a terrible thought – so un-Christian.'
'Why un-Christian? It's the Day of the Dead. In Paris people used to go and put flowers on the graves.'
'Oh, I know, dear, but then they are Catholics, aren't they?'
A faint smile twisted Irises lips. Then she said directly:
'I thought, perhaps, you were talking of Anthony – Anthony Browne.'
'Well,' Lucilla's twitter became very high and birdlike, 'as a matter of fact we did just mention him. I happened to say, you know, that we know nothing about him –'
Iris interrupted, her voice hard: 'Why should you know anything about him?'
'No, dear, of course not. At least, I mean, well, it would be rather nicer, wouldn't it, if we did?'
'You'll have every chance of doing so in future,' said Iris, 'because I'm going to marry him.'
'Oh, Iris!' It was half-way between a wail and a bleat. 'You mustn't do anything rash – I mean nothing can be settled at present.'
'It is settled, Aunt Lucilla.'
'No, dear, one can't talk about things like marriage when the funeral hasn't even taken place yet. It wouldn't be decent. And this dreadful inquest and everything. And really, Iris, I don't think dear George would have approved. He didn't like this Mr Browne.'
'No,' said Iris, 'George wouldn't have liked it and he didn't like Anthony, but that doesn't make any difference. It's my life, not George's – and anyway George is dead…'
Mrs Drake gave another wail.
'Iris, Iris. What has come over you? Really that was a most unfeeling thing to say.'
'I'm sorry, Aunt Lucilla.' The girl spoke wearily. 'I know it must have sounded like that but I didn't mean it that way. I only meant that George is at peace somewhere and hasn't got to worry about me and my future any more. I must decide things for myself.'
'Nonsense, dear, nothing can be decided at a time like this – it would be most unfitting. The question simply doesn't arise.'
Iris gave a sudden short laugh.
'But it has arisen. Anthony asked me to marry him before we left Little Priors. He wanted me to come up to London and marry him the next day without telling anyone. I wish now that I had.'
'Surely that was a very curious request,' said Colonel Race gently.
She turned defiant eyes to him.
'No, it wasn't. It would have saved a lot of fuss. Why couldn't I trust him? He asked me to trust him and I didn't. Anyway, I'll marry him now as soon as he likes.'
Lucilla burst out in a stream of incoherent protest. Her plump cheeks quivered and her eyes filled.
Colonel Race took rapid charge of the situation.
'Miss Marle, might I have a word with you before I go? On a strictly business matter?'
Rather startled, the girl murmured 'Yes,' and found herself moving to the door. As she passed through, Race took a couple of strides back to Mrs Drake.
'Don't upset yourself, Mrs Drake. Least said, you know, soonest mended. We'll see what we can do.'
Leaving her slightly comforted he followed Iris who led him across the hall and into a small room giving out on the back of the house where a melancholy plane-tree was shedding its last leaves.
Race spoke in a business-like tone.
'All I had to say, Miss Marle, was that Chief Inspector Kemp is a personal friend of mine, and that I am sure you will find him most helpful and kindly. His duty is an unpleasant one, but I'm sure he will do it with the utmost
