“If he does it'll be a record,” remarked Kenneth. “That'll do, Kenneth,” Violet said, in a tone of authority. “There, is that how you like it, Mr Vereker?”
“I like it almost anyhow,” replied Roger simply. “I've forgotten your name, but thank you.”
“Williams,” she said. “Violet Williams. A very ordinary name, I'm afraid.”
“Yes, they're always the worst to keep in your head,” agreed Roger. “Well, here's luck, everybody! Chinchin!”
His relatives received this in unresponsive silence. Murgatroyd, whose indignation had been diverted by the sight of Violet doing the honours of the flat, said suddenly: “Well, what's to be done, that's what I want to know?”
“Don't worry about me,” said Roger. “I'm very adaptable. I don't suppose I shall be here long either. My idea is to take a flat on my own.”
vWhy bother?” said Kenneth. “Isn't Arnold's house enough for you?”
“I shouldn't like it,” replied Roger, with more decision than he had yet shown. “Not my style at all. I'll tell you what, though: I'll give it to you and Tony.”
“Thanks. We don't want it.”
Murgatroyd, who had been thinking, said in a somewhat mollified voice: “I suppose he'll have to stay. It won't do any good to have him trapesing round town like a regular tramp. He can have the camp-bed in the boxroom.”
“I shall want a pair of Kenneth's pyjamas as well,” said Roger helpfully.
“If you stay in this flat I shall clear out of it,” announced Kenneth.
“No, you won't,” said his sister. “I'm not going to be left to cope with him.”
“All right, then, let's both go. Let's go to Sweden at once!”
“I can't. Who'd look after the dogs?”
“Damn the dogs!”
“Have you got a lot of dogs?” inquired Roger, looking round for some sign of them. “What sort of dogs?”
“Bull-terriers,” replied Antonia briefly.
“I don't know that I like the sound of that. I got bitten by a dog once, and they told me it was a bull-terrier. Not that I wanted to know.”
“Let's have the dogs in,” said Kenneth, brightening. “You never know your luck.”
“Don't be childish, Kenneth,” interposed Violet. “It isn't for me to make a suggestion, but don't you think Mr Carrington ought to be told what's happened?”
“You don't mean to tell me Uncle Charles isn't dead yet?” said Roger. “I don't want to see him. The last time I set eyes on him he said a whole lot of things I'm glad I can't remember.”
“You won't have to see him,” replied Antonia. “Giles took over all our affairs years ago.”
“Oh, Giles!” said Roger. “Well, I don't mind him. Do just as you like about it. Now I come to think of it, he wasn't a bad chap at all. I was at school with him.”
“Yes, till they sacked you,” said Kenneth.
“You've got that muddled up,” said Roger. “You're thinking of Oxford. Now, there I did get into trouble. I forget the rights of it, but there was a lot of unpleasantness one way or another. As a matter of fact, I've been very unlucky all my life. Not that I'm complaining.”
Antonia, apparently thinking that Violet's suggestion was a good one, had walked across the studio to the telephone, and was dialling her cousin's number. He answered the call himself, and as soon as Antonia heard his voice, she said without any preamble: “Giles, are you doing anything? Because if not you'd better come round at once.”
“Had I?” he said. “What's happened now?”
“Something utterly sickening. Roger's turned up.”
“What?”
“Roger. He isn't dead, at all. He's here.”
There was a moment's startled silence; then Giles said in a voice quivering with amusement: “But what a disaster!”
“Yes, it's awful. We don't in the least know what to do about it.”
“My poor Tony, I'm afraid there's nothing you can do.”
“It's all very well for you to laugh, but he says he's going to stay with us until you advance him some money. So do you think you could bring round some at once? He wants fifty pounds, but I should think twenty would do. He hasn't got any clothes.”
“What, none at all?”
“No - that is, yes, you idiot, of course he has! But no pyjamas, or things.”
“How very like him!” said Giles.
“I daresay, but the point is we don't want him here, and he won't go unless he has some cash.”
“My dear girl, I can't possibly do anything about it at a moment's notice!”
“I suppose you wouldn't like to lend him some money?” Antonia said, without much hope.
“I shouldn't,” replied Giles.
“No, I didn't think you would. But it's pretty grim if we've got to have him here, you know.”
“Where is he?”
“I keep on telling you! Here!”
Giles's voice was brimful of laughter. “Not in the room?”
“Yes, of course,” said Antonia impatiently.
“How he must be enjoying this conversation!”
At this point Roger, who had been listening with his usual placidity, interrupted to say: “Give old Giles my love.”
“He wants me to give you his love. He's just like that.”
“He always was. I can't rise to those affectionate heights, but tell him I congratulate him on not being dead. Where did he spring from?”
“South America, I suppose. I didn't ask. Anyway, he landed yesterday. Do come round!”
“I can't do any good if I do, Tony; but I'll look in after dinner, if you like.”
With this she had to be content. At the other end of the telephone Giles Carrington sat for a moment after he had laid down the receiver, thinking. Then, with a faint smile hovering about his mouth, he picked up the receiver again, and rang up Scotland Yard.
Superintendent Hannasyde was still in the building, and after a few minutes Giles was put through to him.
“Is that you, Hannasyde?”
“It is,” replied the Superintendent.
“Do you remember, I wonder, that I prophesied something unexpected would turn up?”
“I do.” The Superintendent's voice quickened with interest.
“Well, I thought perhaps you'd like to know that it has,” said Giles. “Roger Vereker has come home.”
“Roger—Who's he?”
“Roger Vereker,” said Giles, “is the brother who ought to have died seven years ago!”
“Good lord!” The Superintendent sounded startled. “When?”
“I'm informed that he landed yesterday - I believe from South America, but I'm not certain on that point. At the moment he's staying at the studio. I'm going round there to see him this evening.”
“Do you mind if I come with you?” asked Hannasyde.
“Not in the least,” replied Giles cheerfully.
Chapter Fourteen
Violet, who made a show of leaving the studio shortly before dinner, was easily persuaded to remain. Kenneth said that since she seemed to like Roger so much she had better stay and entertain him, as neither he nor Tony felt at all capable of doing it. She took this in good part, merely smiling at him in a rather aloof way, and continuing to ask Roger civil questions about his journey. Presently, when Murgatroyd, with an ill grace, came to show Roger the way to the box-room which was to be his temporary abode, she took the Verekers to task, and told them that she felt so sorry for Roger at meeting with such a reception that she felt she had to do something about it. Antonia pointed out to her that as far as Roger was concerned it was all water off a duck's back; an observation so patently true that even Violet could not gainsay it. Antonia saw more point in her second argument, which was that by showing his disgust so plainly, Kenneth was placing himself in a very suspicious light. Antonia was inclined to agree with this, but Kenneth at once started to argue that his attitude was entirely consistent, and would be more likely to puzzle the police than to convince them that he was Arnold's murderer. In the middle of the inevitable discussion that followed Roger came back into the room, and Kenneth, to whom, once he was embarked on an argument, all persons were alike, immediately put the case to him.