Laura’s policeman husband came to dinner at the Stone House and stayed the night, but had to leave early on the following morning for a conference with an Assistant Commissioner. Laura rose at seven and breakfasted with him and then saw him off at soon after half-past eight. She went for a stroll and returned in time to waylay the village postman on his way to the Stone House.
‘I’ll take the letters, if you like,’ she said. The postman, whose round covered a good many miles, accepted her offer gratefully, but seemed a little doubtful about giving her two letters addressed to Professor Derde van Zestien.
‘Oh, that’s all right,’ said Laura. ‘He’s a Dutch professor and is staying here for a day or two. His brother is with him. I should have thought it was all over the village by now.’
She carried the letters up to the house and found the other three at breakfast. She looked through the correspondence she was holding, put some of it beside her own plate, for a place had been laid for her — it was known that she liked a second breakfast when she had been out for a morning walk or a swim — gave one envelope to Dame Beatrice and the last two to Derde.
Derde glanced at the two envelopes, and then passed them across to his brother. Sweyn examined them and then pushed them aside.
‘I prefer my kidneys and bacon,’ he said, ‘to be eaten in peace, before I deal with letters from my relatives. One, I see, is from my father,’ he added to Dame Beatrice, ‘and the other is from Florian. We will look at them closely later.’
‘Yes, later,’ agreed Derde. They read the letters after breakfast, passing them from one to the other without comment. In an ante-room Laura was busy with some typing. Dame Beatrice, in conference with her servants, was arranging for lunch and dinner. She returned to the library, where she had left the brothers, in time to hear Derde say:
‘Well, we cannot blame Florian. Naturally he is interested in this sculpture and this painting. Most young men are in love with themselves. Why not? Florian is an irritating boy, but, then, who is not irritating at that age? — except to his contemporaries, and, sometimes, even to them.’
‘Very true,’ said Sweyn. ‘Ah, Dame Beatrice!’ They rose. ‘Our letters are causing us just a little concern. My father is distressed because Florian has left his house very suddenly for the Netherlands. We have also heard from Florian himself. He goes to our aunt and cousins so that his bust and a portrait of his hand may be finished. He admits that he went on impulse and that my father is angry with him.’
‘A portrait of his hand?’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I noticed that he has exquisite hands, but I had not heard that one was to be painted.’
‘Yes. I have not seen the artist’s studies, but I believe that in the picture Florian’s right hand is to be shown holding a hyacinth called the Delft Blue. It is a noble inflorescence and of the same colour as his eyes. One wonders why not a complete portrait. That would be more interesting, I think.’
‘He is a very handsome boy,’ said Dame Beatrice, non-committally.
‘Beautiful rather than handsome,’ amended Sweyn. ‘He is indeed rather like a flower, and that gives his appearance a degree of femininity which, one supposes, must be foreign to his nature.’
‘One supposes Narcissus,’ said Derde.
Dame Beatrice thought it better not to comment upon this obvious truth.
‘I wonder whether there is anything in particular you would like to do after lunch?’ she said.
‘I should like to see more of the New Forest,’ said Sweyn.
‘And I should like to visit the docks at Southampton,’ said Derde, smiling.
‘Both plans can be carried out, if we have an early lunch,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I will order the car for half-past one. George can take us first to Southampton and then we can come back by way of Lyndhurst and Emery Down. From there, if you liked, Laura could guide you if you wished to take a walk. Walking is quite the best way, I think, to enjoy and savour the Forest.’
These arrangements were carried out and gave great pleasure to the professors, pleasure which was destined to be short-lived, for a telegram awaited them at the Stone House.
‘Oh, dear!’ exclaimed Dame Beatrice, when Derde handed it to her. ‘I am very sorry indeed.’
‘So are we,’ said Sweyn. ‘Apart from the news that my father is really ill, it means that we must cut short our visit, I am afraid. It seems that our place is with him.’
‘Hm!’ said Laura, when the farewells had been made early on the following morning and the brothers had driven off in their hired car. ‘I like them, but they are a bit heavy in the hand, don’t you think? At Southampton yesterday we were treated to the history of the port of Antwerp, (which isn’t even in Holland), and on the New Forest walk I heard all about the fauna and flora of the Dutch East Indies — interesting, but I found it fatiguing.’
‘I found them quite charming,’ said Dame Beatrice. There was a telegram from Derde on the following day.
my father seriously ill letter follows.
‘I hope the old gentleman’s illness is not as serious as the telegram would lead us to suppose,’ said Dame Beatrice.
‘I should think he’s pretty bad. The Dutch are a stolid sort of people and, in any case, I don’t see the professors sending windy telegrams all over the place. I should say they take the placid, academic view of things.’
‘I thought you had read Sir Charles Snow’s The Masters! There seemed little placidity in their academic circle, unless I misunderstood the story.’
A fortnight passed. Dame Beatrice and Laura returned to London to put in three days a week at the psychiatric clinic and to go down to Hampshire to stay at the Stone House from Thursday evenings until early on Tuesday mornings. It was on a Saturday that the promised letter came from Derde.
‘My father seems a little stronger, but we have not liked to tell him the latest family vexation. From my telegram of a fortnight ago you will realise that we found my father very ill indeed, the result, it seems, of shock. We were sufficiently alarmed to send for his sister, my aunt Binnen. She is here with my cousins, and my sister Maarte and her husband are also with us.
‘We can suggest no cause for shock except the sudden departure of Florian. My father will not have his name mentioned in his presence, and, indeed, it is just as well, for, to the distress of my aunt and cousins, Florian left their house as abruptly as he left this one, and has disappeared. For fear that my father should die, Florian must be found and brought back here so that a reconciliation may be brought about. My father is very fond of the boy and could be persuaded, I am sure, to forgive him.
‘My brother and I are wondering whether you could possibly spare the time to come along and give us the benefit of your advice and experience, as you are a psychiatrist and will be able to explain to us why Florian should act in this unaccountable way.
‘We have advertised in Dutch. English, Austrian and Italian papers for him, but, so far, without result.’
‘Well, well, well!’ said Laura, when she had read the letter. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I shall go at once to Norfolk, child. This is a cry from the heart and cannot be disregarded. Put off everybody who can be put off, and refer the rest to Doctor Anderson.’