'Of course he told her – first thing. She knew he would. That's why she wrote them. Then she arranged all of his plan for him – having first got him well worked up. And so she had the stage set – all nicely arranged for suicide No. 2 – and if George chose to believe that you had killed Rosemary and were committing suicide out of remorse or panic – well, that wouldn't make any difference to Ruth!'
'And to think I liked her – liked her very much! And actually wanted her to marry George.'
'She'd probably have made him a very good wife, if she hadn't come across Victor,' said Anthony. 'Moral: every murderess was a nice girl once.'
Iris shivered. 'All that for money!'
'You innocent, money is what these things are done for! Victor certainly did it for money. Ruth partly for money, partly for Victor, and partly, I think, because she hated Rosemary. Yes, she'd travelled a long way by the time she deliberately tried to run you down in a car, and still further when she left Lucilla in the drawing-room, banged the front door and then ran up to your bedroom. What did she seem like? Excited at all?'
Iris considered.
'I don't think so. She just tapped on the door, came in and said everything was fixed up and she hoped I was feeling all right. I said yes, I was just a bit tired. And then she picked up my big rubber-covered torch and said what a nice torch that was and after that I don't seem to remember anything.'
'No, dear,' said Anthony. 'Because she hit you a nice little crack, not too hard, on the back of the neck with your nice torch. Then she arranged you artistically by the gas fire, shut the windows tight, turned on the gas, went out, locking the door and passing the key underneath it, pushed the woolly mat close up against the crack so as to shut out any draught and tripped gently down the stairs. Kemp and I just got into the bathroom in time. I raced on up to you and Kemp followed Miss Ruth Lessing unbeknownst to where she had left that car parked – you know, I felt at the time there was something fishy and uncharacteristic about the way Ruth tried to force it on our minds that she had come by bus and tube!'
Iris gave a shudder.
'It's horrible – to think anyone was as determined to kill me as all that. Did she hate me too by then?'
'Oh, I shouldn't think so. But Miss Ruth Lessing is a very efficient young woman. She'd already been an accessory in two murders and she didn't fancy having risked her neck for nothing. I've no doubt Lucilla Drake bleated out your decision to marry me at a moment's notice, and in that case there was no time to lose. Once married, I should be your next of kin and not Lucilla.'
'Poor Lucilla. I'm so terribly sorry for her.'
'I think we all are. She's a harmless, kindly soul.'
'Is he really arrested?'
Anthony looked at Race, who nodded and said:
'This morning, when he landed in New York .'
'Was he going to marry Ruth – afterwards?'
'That was Ruth's idea. I think she would have brought it off too.'
'Anthony – I don't think I like my money very much.'
'All right, sweet – we'll do something noble with it if you like. I've got enough money to live on – and to keep a wife in reasonable comfort. We'll give it all away if you like – endow homes for children, or provide free tobacco for old men, or – how about a campaign for serving better coffee all over England?'
'I shall keep a little,' said Iris. 'So that if I ever wanted to, I could be grand and walk out and leave you.'
'I don't think, Iris, that is the right spirit into which to enter upon married life. And, by the way, you didn't once say 'Tony, how wonderful' or 'Anthony, how clever of you'!'
Colonel Race smiled and got up.
'Going over to the Farradays for tea,' he exclaimed. There was a faint twinkle in his eye as he said to Anthony: 'Don't suppose you're coming?'
Anthony shook his head and Race went out of the room. He paused in the doorway to say, over his shoulder: 'Good show.'
'That,' said Anthony as the door closed behind him, 'denotes supreme British approval.'
Iris asked in a calm voice: 'He thought I'd done it, didn't he?'
'You mustn't hold that against him,' said Anthony. 'You see, he's known so many beautiful spies, all stealing secret formulas and wheedling secrets out of major-generals, that it's soured his nature and warped his judgment. He thinks it's just got to be the beautiful girl in the case!'
'Why did you know I hadn't, Tony?'
'Just love, I suppose,' said Anthony lightly.
Then his face changed, grew suddenly serious. He touched a little vase by Iris's side in which was a single sprig of grey-green with a mauve flower.
'What's that doing in flower at this time of year?'
'It does sometimes – just an odd sprig – if it's a mild autumn.'
Anthony took it out of the glass and held it for a moment against his cheek. He half-closed his eyes and saw rich chestnut hair, laughing blue eyes and a red passionate mouth…
He said in a quiet conversational tone: 'She's not around now any longer, is she?'
'Who do you mean?'
'You know who I mean. Rosemary… I think she knew, Iris, that you were in danger.'
He touched the sprig of fragrant green with his lips and threw it lightly out of the window.
'Good-bye, Rosemary, thank you…'
Iris said softly: 'That's for remembrance…'
And more softly still: 'Pray, love, remember…'
