``I'll wait here. Mother snores so.''
Twenty minutes later they went downstairs into the hall where aproned waiters were piling up the furniture and brushing the carpets. A keen wind met them as they emerged from the swing door. The asphalt promenade was wet with spray and rain. Two or three female figures were scudding along, bowed to the wind, prayer books clutched in their gloved hands. Four or five rugged old men were hobbling down to bathe, hissing like ostlers. ``Oh come on,'' said Winnie.
They went down to the beach and stumbled painfully across the shingle to the margin of the sea. Winnie threw some stones. The bathers were in the water now; some of them had dogs who swam snorting beside them. ``Why don't you bathe?'' asked Winnie.
``Far too cold.''
``But they're bathing. I want to.''
``You must ask your mother.''
``I believe you're afraid. Can you swim?''
``Yes.''
``Well why don't you? Bet you can't.''
``All right. I can't.''
``Then why did you say you could. Fibber.''
They walked along the shingle. Winnie slithered about astride a backwater. ``Now I'm all wet,'' she said.
``Better come back and change.''
``It feels horrible. Let's go and have breakfast.''
The hotel did not, as a rule, cater for guests who breakfasted downstairs at eight o'clock on Sunday morning. It took a long time before anything could be got ready. There were no ices, much to Winnie's annoyance. She ate grapefruit and kippers and scrambled eggs on toast, complaining fitfully about her wet clothing. After breakfast Tony sent her upstairs to change and, himself, smoked a pipe in the lounge and glanced over the Sunday papers. Here at nine o'clock he was interrupted by the arrival of Blenkinsop. ``We missed you last night,'' he said.
``We went to a party.''
``You shouldn't have done that--not strictly, but I daresay no harm will come of it. Have you had your breakfast?''
``Yes, in the dining room with Winnie.''
``But, Mr. Last, what are you thinking of? You've got to get evidence from the hotel servants.''
``Well, I didn't like to wake Milly.''
``She's paid for it, isn't she? Come, come, Mr. Last, this won't do at all. You'll never get your divorce if you don't give your mind to it more.''
``All right,'' said Tony. ``I'll have breakfast again.''
``In bed mind.''
``In bed.'' And he went wearily upstairs to his rooms. Winnie had drawn the curtains but her mother was still asleep. ``She woke up once and then turned over. Do get her to come out. I want to go on the pier.''
``Milly,'' said Tony firmly. ``Milly.''
``Oh,'' she said. ``What time is it?''
``We've got to have breakfast.''
``Don't want any breakfast. I think I'll sleep a little.''
``You have had breakfast,'' said Winnie.
``Come on,'' said Tony. ``Plenty of time to sleep afterwards. This is what we came for.''
Milly sat up in bed. ``O.K.,'' she said. ``Winnie darling, give mother her jacket off the chair.'' She was a conscientious girl, ready to go through with her job however unattractive it might seem. ``But it's early.''
Tony went into his room and took off his shoes, collar and tie, coat and waistcoat, and put on a dressing gown. ``You are greedy,'' said Winnie, ``eating two breakfasts.'' ``When you're a little older you'll understand these things. It's the Law. Now I want you to stay in the sitting room for quarter of an hour very quietly. Promise? And afterwards you can do exactly what you like.''
``Can I bathe?''
``Yes certainly, if you're quiet now.''
Tony got into bed beside Milly and pulled the dressing gown tight round his throat. ``Does that look all right?''
``Love's young dream,'' said Milly.
``All right then. I'll ring the bell.''
When the tray had been brought Tony got out of bed and put on his things. ``So much for my infidelity,'' he said. ``It is curious to reflect that this will be described in the papers as `intimacy.' ''
``Can I bathe now?''
``Certainly.''
Milly turned over to sleep again. Tony took Winnie to the beach. The wind had got up and a heavy sea was pounding on the shingle.
``This little girl would like to bathe,'' said Tony.
``No bathing for children today,'' said the beach attendant.
``The very idea,'' said various onlookers. ``Does he want to drown the child?'' ``He's no business to be trusted with children.''
``Unnatural beast.''
``But I want to bathe,'' said Winnie. ``You said I could bathe if you had two breakfasts.''
The people who had clustered round to witness Tony's discomfort, looked at one another askance. ``Two breakfasts? Wanting to let the child bathe? The man's balmy.''
``Never mind,'' said Tony. ``We'll go on the pier.''
Several of the crowd followed them round the slots, curious to see what new enormity this mad father might attempt. ``There's a man who's eaten two breakfasts and tries to drown his little girl,'' they informed other spectators, sceptically observing his attempts to amuse Winnie with skee-ball. Tony's conduct confirmed the view of human nature derived from the weekly newspapers which they had all been reading that morning.
``Well,'' said Brenda's solicitor. ``We have our case now, all quite regular and complete. I don't think it can come on until next term--there's a great rush at the moment, but there's no harm in you having your own evidence ready. I've got it typed out for you. You'd better keep it by you and get it clear in your mind.''
`` ... My marriage was an ideally happy one,'' she read, ``until shortly before Christmas last year when I began to suspect that my husband's attitude had changed towards me. He always remained in the country when my studies took me to London. I realized that he no longer cared for me as he used to. He began to drink heavily and on one occasion made a disturbance at our flat in London, constantly ringing up when drunk and sending a drunken
``Not strictly, but it is advisable to put it in. A great deal depends on psychological impression. Judges in their more lucid moments sometimes wonder why perfectly respectable, happily married men go off for week-ends to the seaside with women they do not know. It is always helpful to offer evidence of general degeneracy.''
``I see,'' said Brenda. ``From then onwards I had him watched by private agents and as a result of what they told me, I left my husband's house on April 5th. Yes, that all seems quite clear.''
Three
Lady St. Cloud preserved an atavistic faith in the authority and preternatural good judgment of the Head of the Family; accordingly her first act, on learning from Marjorie of Brenda's wayward behaviour, was to cable for Reggie's return from Tunisia where he was occupied in desecrating some tombs. His departure, like all his movements, was leisurely. He did not take the first available boat or the second, but eventually he arrived in London on the Monday after Tony's visit to Brighton. He held a family conclave in his library consisting of his mother, Brenda, Marjorie, Allan and the solicitor; later he discussed the question fully with each of them severally; he took Beaver out to luncheon; he dined with Jock; he even called on Tony's Aunt Frances. Finally on Thursday evening he arranged to meet Tony for dinner at Brown's.
He was eight years older than Brenda; very occasionally a fugitive, indefinable likeness was detectable between him and Marjorie, but both in character and appearance he was as different from Brenda as it was possible to imagine. He was prematurely, unnaturally stout, and he carried his burden of flesh as though he were not yet used to it; as though it had been buckled on to him that morning for the first time and he were still experimenting for its better adjustment; there was an instability in his gait and in his eyes, a furtive look as though he were at any moment liable to ambush and realized that he was unfairly handicapped for flight. This impression, however, was made solely by his physical appearance; it was the deep bed of fat in which his eyes lay, which gave them this look of suspicion; the caution of his movements resulted from the exertion of keeping his balance and not from any embarrassment at his own clumsiness, for it had never occurred to him that he looked at all unusual.