Kenneth drifted back to the sofa. “Well, with any luck that ought to bust up the engagement,” he observed.
“What you need is kicking,” replied Giles, without heat.
“Oh no, I don't! You can't pretend that you think it would be a good thing for Tony to marry that sickening lizard. Besides, Murgatroyd doesn't like him.”
“Mr Carrington,” said Violet suddenly, “what did you think of his story?”
He glanced down at her. “Nothing much. I've heard more improbable ones.”
“Somehow I don't like him,” she said. “And if he really had nothing to do with it why didn't he call for help?”
“Panic, Miss Williams.”
She looked rather contemptuous. “Yes, I suppose so. Personally I've no use for people who lose their heads in emergencies. Do you want to talk privately with Kenneth?”
“Lord, no!” said Kenneth. “It's only about money. How much can I have, Giles?”
“I'll lend you what you want for your immediate needs,” replied Giles.
“Are you trying to put the wind up me?” demanded Kenneth. “Has anything gone wrong with the Will?”
“No, nothing at all,” said Giles. “But apart from the fact that it wouldn't look too well for you to draw on the estate within three days of Arnold's death, there's a little formality to be attended to before the executors will advance you any money. We must prove Roger's death.”
“What a bore!” said Kenneth. “How long is that likely to take?”
“Not very long, I hope. How much do you want?”
“Would three hundred break you?” asked Kenneth persuasively.
“I can just stand it. I'll make out a cheque for that amount now, and you can write a formal receipt while I'm doing it.”
In the middle of this labour Antonia came back into the room and announced that Rudolph had gone.
“Well, that's one good thing, anyway,” remarked Kenneth. “Still adhering to his story?”
“He swears it's perfectly true.”
“He'd better go and swear it to old Hannasyde and see how he takes it. You've got to have faith to swallow a chestnut like that.”
“I must say I thought it was pretty fatuous myself,” admitted Antonia. “I didn't like to pour much more scorn on it, though, because he was a trifle ruffled. The trouble is, he doesn't altogether understand us when we speak, Kenneth.”
Giles looked up, half smiling. “Rather a grave disadvantage in a life-partner, Tony.”
“I know. It occurred to me about half an hour ago. I do hope I haven't made another mistake.”
“It would be rather difficult for the average man to understand you when you speak, as you call it,” said Violet. “I must say, I think a great many of your remarks are extremely odd, to say the least of it.”
“Bless you, darling,” said Kenneth, blotting his receipt. “What a commonplace mind there is behind that lovely face!”
She flushed. “If you think me commonplace I wonder you want to marry me.”
“I've explained it to you before, my sweet. I worship beauty.”
“Yes, so you say, but I notice that doesn't hinder you from running after perfectly ordinary-looking girls like Leslie Rivers.”
“Jealous little cat,” he remarked. “I've known Leslie for years. There you are, Giles. I'll pay it back as soon as I touch. Thanks, by the way. I can now buy you a vulgar ring, beloved.”
“I don't want a vulgar ring, I can assure you. Simply because I happen to prefer diamonds to any other stone -”
“You shall have a slab of a diamond, my pet. A large, table-cut one, which no one could possibly suppose a fake because it's so improbable.”
“Are you going to blow the whole of that on a ring?” inquired Giles.
“I should think so,” replied Kenneth. “Because if I'm the heir the bills can wait over. And when I get my hands on the Vereker fortune, Violet, you shall have a string of pearls as well, and some carved jade ear-rings. How's that?”
“I shall love the pearls, but I don't know that I care awfully for jade. You see such a lot of it about.”
“God help the poor wench!” groaned Kenneth.
Giles screwed on the cap of his fountain pen.
“Postpone hostilities till I've gone,” he requested. “You haven't forgotten it's the Inquest tomorrow, have you, Tony?”
“As a matter of fact, I had, but I remember now that you mention it. You said you'd run me down in your car. Do you mind if I bring one of the dogs?”
“Yes, I do. I'll call for you round about ten o'clock. Show me out, please. Good-bye, Miss Williams: so long, Kenneth.”
Antonia took him out into the hall “Giles, I've made the most shattering discovery,” she said awe-inspiringly.
“Good God, Tony, what is it?” he asked, amused.
“Rudolph and Violet. Soul-mates. I can't think why I didn't realise it before. They've got the same type of mind. Do you think I ought to point it out to them?”
“No, I don't,” he said firmly. “I should leave them to find it out for themselves. Do you really mean to marry Mesurier?”
“Well, I thought I did,” she replied, wrinkling her brow. “He can be awfully attractive, you know, though I must say he doesn't shine much under adversity.”
“Tony, you impossible brat, are you in the least in love with him?”
“I don't quite know,” said Antonia sadly. “To tell you the truth, Giles, I'm not at all sure what being in love is like. I thought I was at one time, but I seem to have gone off Rudolph a bit lately. It's really very difficult.”
“I should give him the push if I were you,” he recommended.
“No, you wouldn't. Not when he's in trouble,” said Antonia.
“Then the sooner he gets out of trouble the better.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But the question is, will he get out of it? That car alibi is all very well, but the more you think of it the more you can't help suspecting that there's a snag in it if only you could find it. You know, this rotten murder's beginning to be a scourge instead of a blessing. Who did it, Giles? Have you got any idea?”
“No, none at all. I have a feeling that we aren't anywhere near the truth yet. It wouldn't surprise me if something totally unexpected cropped up suddenly.”
“Oh, why?” she asked, interested.
“I don't know,” said Giles Carrington. “Just a pricking in my toes.”
Chapter Eleven
The Inquest, held at Hanborough next morning, was not productive of any new evidence. Antonia professed herself frankly disappointed, though she listened with interest to the news that the murdered man's hands had borne traces of having done some repair on a car. When it was disclosed that the spare wheel on Arnold Vereker's car was flat, and showed a bad puncture, she leaned towards her cousin and whispered: “That dishes Kenneth's theory, anyway.”
She gave her own evidence with a cheerfulness which, combined with the absence of decent mourning, rather shocked the members of the jury. To Giles Carrington's relief she was not at all truculent. She answered the Coroner with a friendliness which was due, as she afterwards explained to Giles, to his likeness to the veterinary surgeon who had attended Juno's last accouchement.
It was evident that neither the Coroner nor the jury knew what to make of her, but her unconventional attitude towards Superintendent Hannasyde, whom she greeted, when he rose to put a question to her, as an old and valued acquaintance, made quite a good impression.
Rudolph Mesurier was not called, nor was his name mentioned, and the proceedings terminated, as had been foreseen, in a verdict of Murder against a Person or Persons Unknown.
Coming out of the Court-room Giles Carrington fell in beside Hannasyde, and murmured pensively: “It's the perfect crime, Superintendent.”