"Let him hope!" said Chester, with rather a grim little smile.
Mary went with him downstairs, and out into the sunlit gardens. The tennis-court was within sight of the house, and they walked there together. Vicky was playing a single with Alan, while the Prince looked on from the side-line, but she left the court when she saw the doctor approaching, and ran to meet him, to know how her mother was. He returned a reassuring answer, and repeated it to the Prince, who came up a moment later to inquire solicitously after Ermyntrude. After that, he said easily that it had occurred to him that the Prince might be interested to see his small collection of prehistoric specimens, and invited him to call and take tea with him that afternoon.
The Prince was all smiles, but did not know whether perhaps his kind host and hostess had made other plans for him. However, Vicky promptly set that doubt to rest, by saying: "Oh no, because poor darling Ermyntrude will be feeling frightfully moth-eaten, and I happen to know that Wally's going over to see Harold White at five. So do go! I'll lend you my car."
"Then at about five, shall we say?" suggested the Prince.
Chester, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice, replied that he would be delighted. He then glanced at his watch, and announced that as he had several patients to visit before lunch he must be going.
Mary walked across the lawn with him to the front drive. She said in an exasperated tone: "How like Wally to trail his coat in front of Aunt Ermy like that! Why on earth he must choose this of all days to go and hob-nob with White, God alone knows!"
Chester did not make any reply to this outburst, and she said no more. As they reached the drive, Wally came out of the house. He stopped dead at sight of the doctor, and said with strong indignation: "Yes, I might have known you'd turn up. You needn't tell me you were sent for, because I'd have bet any money you would be. And don't start looking accusingly at me, as though it was my fault, because it wasn't! Anyone would think I was Bluebeard from the way Ermy's been behaving. And if you want my advice, don't you ever marry an actress, unless you're the kind of man that likes having a wife who carries on like Lady Macbeth and the second Mrs. Tanqueray, and Mata Hari, all rolled into one! Before breakfast, too!" he added bitterly. "If anyone's got the right to call you in, it's me! But if I took to my bed, and pulled down the blinds, and refused to eat any food, would I get any sympathy? Oh no! Oh dear me, no!"
"Certainly not from me," said Chester, getting into his car, and switching on the engine. "I've given your wife some cachets to take, and provided she's not agitated again, she should be all right in an hour or two. Goodbye!"
Wally watched the car move forward, and presently vanish from sight round a bend in the drive. "Given her some cachets to take! Yes, I've no doubt! The wonder is he didn't give her a bottle of water with a bit of peppermint in it, and charge her three-and-sixpence for it! Cachets! Full of bread pellets, if we only knew!"
"Uncle Wally, is it true that Baker's trying to get five hundred out of you?" Mary demanded.
He looked rather suspiciously at her. "What do you mean, is it true? You don't suppose I'd give him five hundred because I've got a kind heart, do you?"
"No, I don't. But it seems a sum out of all reason! In fact, it looks to me like blackmail."
"You don't know anything about it. These things cost a lot of money. Besides, five hundred doesn't mean anything to Ermy."
Mary struggled with herself. "Uncle, can't you see how iniquitous it isthat she should have to buy you out of this at all?"
"It's her own fault," replied Wally. "If she'd made a decent settlement on me at the outset, she wouldn't have had to stump up now, because naturally I'd have seen to it myself. You're very full of sympathy for her, but what do you suppose it's like for me to have to borrow money from my wife to provide for poor little Gladys? Humiliating, that's what it is, but I'm not lying in bed complaining of the way I've been treated."
It was obviously hopeless to argue with him. Mary sa, coldly: "You haven't a leg to stand on, and you know it. Is it true that you've arranged to go over to the Dower House this afternoon?"
"That's right! Now start to nag about that! Run up and tell Ermy! Then we can have another nice scene."
"Look here, Uncle, if you want Ermyntrude to forgive you, don't annoy her again! It's sheer folly, for you know what she feels about Harold White! Surely you needn't go and see him today?"
"Well, that's where you're wrong, because I've got a bit of business to discuss with him. There's no need for Ermy to know anything about it, unless you go and give the show away to her."
"She'll find out without any assistance from me," replied Mary curtly, and left him.
Dr Chester's visit, or his cachets, seemed to have had a most beneficial effect upon Ermyntrude. Mary found her keeping body and soul together with a few delicate sandwiches and a glass of champagne, a diet which, however ill-advised it might have been for one in a high fever, apparently revived her considerably. She smiled sadly at Mary, and said: 'Maurice made me promise to try to eat something. I always think there's nothing like champagne if you're feeling wretched. But, Mary dear, I don't like this salt caviar. You oughtn't to have bought it, ducky: I know the Prince prefers it fresh."
"It's a bit difficult to get the fresh out here," explained Mary. "And it doesn't keep."
"Well, we don't want to keep it," said Ermyntrude reasonably. She finished what was left of her champagne, and felt so much restored by it that after silently considering the disadvantages of a prolonged sojourn in bed, she said that little though she might be equal to it, she ought to make an effort to come down to lunch.
So at twelve o'clock, accompanied by her personal maid, who carried her smelling-salts, handkerchief, and eau-de-Cologne, and leaning artistically on Mary's arm, she came falteringly downstairs, and disposed herself on the sofa in the drawing-room. Though made quite faint by so much exertion, she was able to take an interest in the pleasing picture she presented, and to remark naively that the new tea-gown she was wearing might have been expressly designed for just such an occasion.
It seemed at first as though the new tea-gown was going to be wasted, for Mary had neglected to inform the Prince that his hostess proposed to come downstairs to luncheon, so that instead of being at hand to lead Ermyntrude to her couch, he was playing an extremely competent game of tennis against both Vicky and Alan.
Happily, just as Ermyntrude was beginning to feel herself miserably neglected, Robert Steel dropped in on his way back from church, and showed so much concern over her condition that her depression fell away from her, and she forgot about the Prince. For, as she had more than once confided to Mary, there was something very attractive about a masterful man.
Mary left her basking in the care of this particular masterful man. She knew that in all probability Ermyntrude would pour out her woes to him, but it hardly seemed worthwhile to try to avert this indiscretion, since sooner or later Ermyntrude would be bound to tell him the whole story.
He left the house just after one o'clock, and when Mary, encountering him in the hall, asked him if he would not stay to luncheon, he declined so roughly that she knew that Ermyntrude had made the most of her wrongs to him.
He seemed to repent of his brusqueness, and said in his blunt way: "Sorry, Mary, but if I had to sit down to table with Carter I'd choke! By God, I'd like to break his bloody neck!"
"Don't mind me, will you?" said Mary wearily.
"I'm damned sorry for you!" retorted Steel. "You needn't pretend you care tuppence about him, because I know you don't."
"That doesn't mean that I like having to listen to your strictures on him!" said Mary, whose temper was wearing thin.