“Nothing,” replied Antonia, resisting the efforts of one of the bitches to entangle her legs with the lead.
“That's what I say,” agreed Murgatroyd. “There's always something to take the gilt off the ginger-bread.”
Antonia left her to her cogitations, and set off in the direction of the Embankment. When she returned it was an hour later, and she had forgotten the eggs. Having given her dogs their evening meal, she ran up the steps to the kitchen, where she found Murgatroyd making pastry. A fair girl, with shrewd grey eyes and a rather square chin, was sitting with her elbows on the table, watching Murgatroyd. She smiled when she saw Antonia. “Hullo!” she said. “Just looked in for a minute.”
“I haven't got the eggs,” announced Antonia.
“It's all right: I got them,” the other girl said. “I hear your half-brother's been murdered. I don't condole, do I?”
“No. Is the blushing Violet here?”
“Yes,” said Leslie Rivers in a very steady voice. “So I thought I wouldn't stay.”
“You can't anyway: there isn't enough to eat. Seen Kenneth?”
“Yes,” said Leslie Rivers again. “He's with Violet. I suppose it's useless for me to say anything, but if Kenneth isn't careful he'll land himself in jug. I should think the police are bound to think he murdered your half-brother.”
“No, they won't. They think I did. Kenneth wasn't there.”
“He hasn't got an alibi,” stated Leslie in her matter-of-fact way. “He doesn't seem to see how with him inheriting all that money, and being in debt, and loathing Arnold, things are bound to point his way.”
“I bet he didn't do it, all the same,” replied Antonia.
“The point is you may find it hard to prove he didn't.”
“I wonder if he could have?” Antonia said thoughtfully.
Murgatroyd let the rolling-pin fall with a clatter. “I never did in all my born days! Whatever will you say next, Miss Tony? Your own brother too, as wouldn't hurt a fly.”
“If you had a fly-swotting competition, he'd win it,” Antonia replied sensibly. “I'm not saying he did kill Arnold; I only wondered. I wouldn't put it above him, would you, Leslie?”
“I don't know. He's a weird creature. Yes, of course I would. What rot you are talking, Tony! I'm going.”
Five minutes later Antonia wandered into the studio and nodded curtly to the girl in the big arm-chair. “Hullo! Come to celebrate?”
Miss Williams raised a pair of velvety brown eyes to Antonia's face, and put up a well-manicured hand to smooth her sleek black hair. “Tony darling, I don't think you ought to talk like that,” she said. “Personally, I feel -”
“Good God, you were right!” exclaimed Kenneth. “My adored one, where did you pick up that bestial habit? Don't say personally, I implore you!”
A faint tinge of colour stole into the creamy cheeks. “Well, really, Kenneth!” said Miss Williams.
“For God's sake, don't hurt her feelings,” begged Antonia. “I'm damned if I'll have any nauseating reconciliations over supper. And while we happen to be on this subject, who the devil asked you how you think I should talk, Violet?”
The brown eyes narrowed a little. “I suppose I can have my opinions, can't I?” said Miss Williams silkily.
“You look lovely when you're angry,” said Kenneth suddenly. “Go on, Tony: say something more.”
Miss Williams' beautiful lips parted and showed small very white teeth. “I think you're perfectly horrid, both of you, and I utterly refuse to quarrel with you. Poor little me! What chance have I got with two people at me once? How awful for you to have actually been at Mr Vereker's house when it happened, Tony! It must have been ghastly for you. I simply can't bear to think of it. Let's talk of something else!”
“Why can't you bear to think of it?” asked Kenneth, not so much captious as interested. “Do you object to blood?”
She gave a shudder. “Don't Kenneth, please! Really, I can't stand it.”
“Just as you like, my treasure, though why you should turn queasy at the thought of Arnold's being stabbed I can't imagine. You never even knew him.”
“Oh, no, I shouldn't know him if I saw him,” said Violet. “It isn't that. I just don't like talking about gruesome things.”
“She's being womanly,” explained Antonia. Her eye alighted on a couple of gold-necked bottles. “Where the hell did they spring from?”
“I boned 'em off Frank Crewe,” replied Kenneth. “We've got to celebrate this.”
“Kenneth!”
“That's all right,” soothed Antonia. “He meant his accession to wealth.”
“But you can't drink champagne when Mr Vereker's been murdered! It isn't decent!”
“I can drink champagne at any time,” replied Antonia.
“What have you done to your nails?”
Violet extended her hands. “Silver lacquer. Do you like it?”
“No,” said Antonia. “Kenneth, if you're the heir you'll have to make me an allowance, because I want a new car.”
“All right, anything you say,” agreed Kenneth.
“There are sure to be Death Duties,” Violet said practically. “It's absolutely wicked the amount one has to pay. Still, there's the house as well. That'll be yours, won't it, Kenneth?”
“Do you mean that barrack in Eaton Place?” demanded Kenneth. “You don't imagine I'm going to live in a barn like that, do you?”
“Why ever not?” Violet sat up, staring at him. “It's an awfully good address.”
“Who cares about an awfully good address? If you'd ever been inside it you wouldn't expect me to live there. It's got Turkey carpets, and a lot of Empire furniture, and pink silk panels in the drawing-room, and a glass lustre, and marble-topped tables with gilt legs.”
“We could always get rid of anything we didn't like, but I must say I like nice things, I mean things that are good.”
“Turkey stair carpeting and gilt mirrors?” said Kenneth incredulously.
“I don't see why not.”
“Darling, your taste is quite damnable.”
“I can't see that there's any need for you to be rude because I like things you don't like. I think Turkey carpets are sort of warm and - and expensive looking.”
Antonia was measuring out the ingredients for cocktails, but she lowered the bottle of gin she was holding, and directed one of her clear looks at Violet. “You don't care whether a thing's good to look at or not as long as it reeks of money,” she remarked.
Violet got up, quickly yet gracefully. “Well, what if I do like luxury?” she said, her low voice sharpening a little. “If you'd been born with a taste for nice things, and never had a penny to spend which you hadn't worked and slaved for, you'd feel the same!” One of her long, capable hands disdainfully brushed the skirt of her frock. “Even my clothes I make myself ! And I want - I want Paris models, and nice furs, and my hair done every week at Eugene's, and - oh, all the nice things that make life worth living!”
“Well, don't make a song about it,” recommended Antonia, quite unmoved. “You'll be able to have all that if Kenneth really does inherit.”
“Of course I inherit,” said Kenneth impatiently. “Hustle along with the drinks, Tony!”
Antonia suddenly put down the gin bottle. “Can't. You do it. I've suddenly remembered I was supposed to meet Rudolph for lunch this morning. I must ring him up.” She took the telephone receiver off the rest, and began to dial. “Did he ring me up, do you know?”
“Dunno. Don't think so. How much gin have you put in?”
“Lashings… Hullo, is that Mr Mesurier's flat? Oh, is it you, Rudolph? I say, I'm frightfully sorry about lunch. Did you wait for ages? But it wasn't my fault. It truly wasn't.”
At the other end of the telephone there was a tiny pause. Then a man's voice, light in texture, rather nasal, rather metallic, in the manner of modern voices, replied hesitatingly: “Is it you, Tony? I didn't quite catch — the line's not very clear. What did you say?”
“Lunch!” enunciated Antonia distinctly.