“How lovely for me!” he said in a voice of honeyed sweetness. “Not only my dear Aunt Gertrude, but my charming cousin Janet as well!” He walked forward, graceful and rather feline, and bent to kiss his aunt's cheek. “My dear aunt! You look so nice in that hat.”
“Do you think so?” said Mrs Lupton unresponsively.
“I've thought so for years,” he said gently, and passed on to Miss Matthews. “You must none of you bother to say how pleased you are to see me,” he said. “I can read it in all your expressive faces.” He looked critically at Stella, and strolled across the room towards her. “Yes, darling, that is quite a nice frock, but the handkerchief is not only the wrong shade of grey, but quite damnably tied. Let me show you, my sweet.”
Stella pushed his hand away. “No, thanks!”
He was still smiling. “How you hate me, don't you?” he murmured. “And Guy? How are you, little cousin?”
Guy, who did not relish this form of address, glowered at him.
Mrs Lupton, still rigid with wrath at the edged compliment paid her, said sharply: “I presume you have heard the news of your uncle's death?”
“Oh yes!” said Randall. “You will notice that I am wearing an armband. I always like to observe the conventions. And which of you,” he inquired, looking amiably round, “is responsible for dear uncle's death? Or don't you know?”
This airy question produced a feeling of tension, which was possibly Randall's object. Mrs Lupton said: “That is not amusing nor is this a time for jokes in bad taste.”
Randall opened his eyes at her. “Dear aunt, did you think I was joking?”
“If uncle was poisoned, which I don't believe he was for an instant,” said Stella, “you had a bigger motive for killing him than anyone else!”
Randall took a cigarette out of his thin gold case, and lit it in a leisurely way. “True, my pet, very true, but you mustn't forget that I was several miles distant when he died. And while I am on the subject may I ask who was responsible for starting this canard that uncle was poisoned?”
“I was responsible for the post-mortem,” replied Mrs Lupton.
“Do you know, I thought perhaps you might be?” said Randall.
“I am by no means satisfied that your uncle died a natural death. I accuse no one; I make no insinuations; but I shall be surprised if my suspicions are not found to be correct.”
“I know you like plain-speaking, my beloved aunt,” said Randall, “so you will not mind my telling you that I find your behaviour extremely officious.”
“Indeed?”
“And ill judged,” said Randall pensively.
“I am not concern—”
“Also more than a little stupid. But that was to be expected.”
“It may interest you to know—”
“Experience, my dear aunt, leads me to reply with confidence that whatever it is you have to say is not in the least likely to interest me.”
While Mrs Lupton fought for words Stella said curiously: “Then you don't think uncle can really have been poisoned, Randall?”
“I haven't the slightest idea,” replied Randall. “The question interests me almost as little as Aunt Gertrude's remarks.”
“Of course, I see what you mean,” said Janet. “But if he was poisoned I'm sure we all want it cleared up.”
“Are you, darling?” said Randall solicitously.
“Well—well, you wouldn't want a thing like that to go unpunished, would you?” said Janet.
“If there's any doubt naturally we want it cleared up!” said Guy, looking defiantly at Mrs Lupton.
“That was not the tone you used this morning,” she commented dryly.
“You must not pay too much attention to Guy, Aunt Gertrude,” said Randall. “He is only trying to impress you.”
“Damn you, are you hinting that I've any reason for wanting it hushed up?” demanded Guy angrily.
“Shut up! he's only trying to get a rise out of you,” said Stella. She met Randall's ironic gaze, and said bluntly:
“Why are you so against a post-mortem?”
“Oh, I'm not!” Randall assured her. “I was merely looking at it from your point of view.”
“Mine?”
“Yes, my sweet, yours, and Guy's, and Aunt Harriet's, and even my clever Aunt Zoë's. You ought all of you to be very thankful for uncle's timely decease. I do not like to see you looking a gift horse in the mouth. Could you not have induced your obliging medical friend to have signed the death certificate, Stella darling?”
She flushed. “Dr Fielding was perfectly ready to sign the certificate without any persuasion from me. None of us wanted to start a scandal except Aunt Gertrude.”
“Of course we didn't,” corroborated Guy. “In fact, I said everything I could to stop it.”
“Then do not assume a pious attitude now, little cousin,” said Randall. “Believe me, it is nauseating.”
Miss Matthews, who had been opening and shutting her mouth in the manner of one awaiting an opportunity to enter into the conversation, suddenly exclaimed: “How dare you say that I wanted Gregory to die? I never even thought of such a thing! I may not have been very fond of him, but—” She broke off as Randall's smile grew, and said, trembling: “You are insufferable! just like your father!”
“My dear aunt,” said Randall, “you were not in the least fond of uncle. Nor was Stella, nor was Guy, nor, even, was my clever Aunt Zoë.”
“And nor were you!” flashed Stella.
“And nor was I,” agreed Randall suavely. “In fact, I can think of no one, with the possible exception of Aunt Gertrude, who was fond of him. Were you fond of him, aunt, or was it a mere question of affinity?”
“I'm sure I was very fond of poor Uncle Gregory,” said Janet unwisely.
“How very affecting!” said Randall. “But perhaps you are also sure that you are very fond of me too?”
“I always try to see the best in people,” said Janet with a bright smile. “And I'm sure you don't mean half the things you say.”
Randall looked at her with acute dislike. “I congratulate you, Janet,” he said. “Your cousins have been trying to silence me for years, but you have done it with one utterly fatuous remark.”
“May I ask, Randall, whether you came here with any other intention than of being offensive to my daughter?” asked Mrs Lupton.
“Why, certainly,” he answered, “I came to satisfy my not unnatural curiosity.”
“You mean your uncle's death?”
“I mean nothing of the sort,” said Randall. “I was already informed of that, and also of the impending post-mortem, by uncle's solicitor. I was curious to know how you were all behaving in this time of trial, and why it had not occurred to any of you to notify me of uncle's death.”
He looked round inquiringly as he spoke, and Guy immediately said: “Because we didn't want you nosing about and creating unpleasantness!”
“Oh, I do hope I haven't done that?” said Randall in a voice of gentle concern.
“As a matter of fact,” stated Mrs Lupton fairly, “I was telling your Aunt Harriet that you ought to be informed when you arrived. Not that I consider you have any cause for complaint. You are not more nearly concerned than Gregory's sisters. Please do not imagine that you need give yourself airs just because you happen now to be the head of the family! There will be time enough for that when we have heard your uncle's Will read. Which reminds me, Harriet, that I must arrange with Mr Carrington when it will be convenient to him to come down here. In the ordinary course of events I suppose he would come immediately after the funeral, but in this case I am of the opinion that the sooner he comes the better.”
“I am glad of that,” said Randall. “He is coming on the day after tomorrow.”
Mrs Lupton eyed him with something approaching loathing. “Do I understand that you took it upon yourself to make this arrangement without a word to anyone?”
“Yes,” said Randall.
At this moment a not unwelcome interruption occurred. Mrs Matthews came into the room. She extended a gloved hand towards Randall, and said: “I saw your car, and so guessed you were here. Janet, too! Quite a little family party, I see. I wonder if you thought to order any fresh cake, Harriet dear? I seem to remember that there was not a great deal yesterday. But I'm sure you did.” She dropped her hand on to her sister-in-law's shoulder for a moment, and pressed it. “Poor Harriet! Such a sad, sad day. And for me too.”