What he had heard of the Inspector’s investigations worried him very much. At first certain that Jimmy the Bastard must have murdered Penhallow, he had been forced to the reluctant belief that the crime had been committed by some member of the family: Raymond, or Clay, or even Faith, whose slightly hysterical behaviour on the day that she had visited his office he could not quite banish from his mind. He found himself thinking about what they must do if the worst came to the worst, and the police discovered sufficient evidence to justify the arrest of one of these suspects. We must brief the best counsel possible, he thought. No half-measures about it: thank God there’s no lack of means to pay for the defence!
He had not heard about the arrest of Jimmy in Bristol until he reached Trevellin, but it was told him then by Eugene, who added that they were all breathless with expectation because of what Jimmy had said on being apprehended.
Clifford’s round face was almost comic in its look of concern. He shook his head over this news, and said heavily that he didn’t like it at all.
"Oh, don’t you?” said Aubrey. “That’s probably because you’re not implicated in this tiresome affair. You can have simply no idea what an appalling effect being a suspect has upon one’s character. I mean, it’s too daunting. Take me, for instance! The instant I heard that Jimmy had an important disclosure to make I felt ten years younger. I did really. Because though I don’t know what ghastly secret he’s going to divulge I do know that it can’t be about me.”
“I wouldn’t believe what Jimmy said on oath!” declared Bart, his brow beginning to lower.
“Wouldn’t you, Bart dear? But isn’t that because you’ve got this touching idée fixe about none of us being capable of killing Father? Or are you afraid that he knows something awful about Loveday?”
“No, I’m not!” Bart said, looking dangerous. “And I’ll thank you to keep your tongue off Loveday!”
Clifford intervened, telling Aubrey to shut up, and reproving Bart for rising to obvious baits. When the tea tray was brought in, Faith and Vivian entered the room, and Clifford soon seized the opportunity to sit down beside Faith, and to ask her whether he was correct in assuming that Clay no longer proposed to enter his office. Before she could reply, Clay himself, who was standing close enough to overhear the question, said rather hastily that he hadn’t made up his mind what he was going to do. Everyone looked rather surprised at this unexpected statement, except Aubrey, who said immediately: “I do think Clay’s efforts to avert suspicion from himself are too utterly arid! Anything more convincing, little brother, than...”
“Be quiet, Aubrey!” Faith said sharply. “No, I don’t wish Clay to be a solicitor, Cliff. I — I don’t quite know how things stand, whether I shall be able to afford — or whether Adam made provision for him?”
“Didn’t Uncle tell you?” Clifford asked. “But you know the terms of your marriage settlements, don’t you?”
It was so obvious that she had only the vaguest idea of what these might be that as soon as he had finished his tea Clifford suggested that she might like him to explain to her exactly how she stood, peculiarly speaking. As she accepted this offer gratefully, they both withdrew to the morning-room, just as Conrad came in.
Conrad exchanged a brief greeting with his cousin, but waited until the door had shut behind him and Faith before divulging the news he had learnt at the stables. “Look here!” he said. “There’s something damned odd up! Courtier’s come in, without his bridle!”
“What?” said Charmian. “Come in without his bridle? What on earth do you mean?”
“Just exactly what I said! Ray took him out this afternoon, not long after lunch, and they say at the stables that he rode off towards the stud-farm.”
“Peculiar,” said Eugene, reaching out his hand for a sandwich. “But hardly worth all this suppressed excitement, I feel. One supposes that Ray decided to go farther, and sent the horse home. You will probably find that he caught the bus into Bodmin.”
“But Ray never did such a thing in his life!” Conrad objected. “Besides, why shouldn’t he have ridden into Bodmin?”
“Too hot,” said Eugene, yawning. “I expect it would be too much to ask of Sybilla that she should send up some other sandwiches than cucumber. One would have thought that she must have known by now that cucumber is poison to me.”
Bart jumped up. “To hell with you and your fads!” he exclaimed. “Something’s wrong! Something must have happened to Ray!”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Clara, rubbing the end of her nose. “It’s a queer thing to do, but I don’t see that there’s any need to get in a fuss about it. If Courtier had had his bridle on, I should have said Ray had had a tumble, but if he took it off the gee, there can’t be much wrong.”
“Ray may be hurt,” Bart said, hurriedly swallowing the rest of his tea in a couple of gulps. He glanced towards his twin, and his voice hardened. “Did you send anyone out to look for him?”
“No, I didn’t,” replied Conrad. “Why should I? If Ray were hurt, he wouldn’t have been able to unbridle the horse. Or if he was able to, then he must also have been able to mount him again. He probably had his reasons for sending Courtier home.”
Aubrey wandered across the room to hand his cup to Clara. “My dear, how thrilling!” he remarked. “Personally, I feel sure Ray has fled the country.”
“Thai isn’t funny!” Bart rapped out.
“Oh, don’t you think so? I find that there’s something exquisitely humorous in the idea that Ray-the-Imperturbable may be fleeing from justice. Obviously, the news that Jimmy is about to divulge what he quarrelled with Father about has proved to be too much for his stoical unconcern.”
“You swine!” Bart said, through his teeth, and tried to knock him down.
Aubrey, who had been watching him closely under his lazy eyelids, saw the blow coming, and dodged it, closing with his young brother an instant afterwards, and grabbing his right arm. “Now, Bart! Now, my little one!” he said soothingly. “I should simply hate to break your arm, lovey, so don’t struggle! I did warn you, didn’t I?”
“Let go!”
“That’s another of the Crown Derby cups gone,” said Clara, gloomily picking up the pieces. “I wish you boys wouldn’t be so rough.”
“Oh, what a good deed!” said Aubrey, letting Bart go. “I do hope it was I who knocked it over? I can’t think of anything as repellent as Crown Derby.”
“Damn you!” Bart said, massaging his arm. “It’s just like you to learn a lot of filthy. Japanese tricks! I’m going down to organise a search-party!”
“Isn’t that touching?” Aubrey said, addressing the room at large, as Bart walked out. “Shall we get up a sweepstake on what has happened to Ray?”
“Come to think of it, it is queer,” remarked Clara, looking rather worried. “What can have possessed him to go settin’ his horse loose? I don’t see any sense in it. Unless he’s trainin’ him for somethin’.”
“Training him for what, darling Clara? A circus?”
“No, he wouldn’t do that,” Clara said decidedly.
“I wonder if Aubrey’s right?” put in Clay. “I mean, do you think he can possibly have got the wind up, and made off somewhere?”
“Do, for heaven’s sake, learn to recognise a joke when you hear one!” begged Eugene wearily.
“Well, it’s all very well, but I don’t see —”
“Hush!” said Aubrey. “Can’t you see that your brothers are sick and tired of the sound of your voice, child?”
Clay said angrily: “Considering I’ve only made one remark during the past twenty minutes, I call that rich! You seem to think...”
“One remark in twenty minutes is all we have patience to bear,” said Aubrey firmly.
Clay got up, scraping his chair aggressively. “This place was bad enough before you came home, but it’s absolutely bloody now!” he said, and stalked out of the room.